Martin Shone's Blog, page 41
June 9, 2015
Poetic malaise
Oh beauty you are but a petal in my existence
how you dance in my path as you fall to float ‘pon gentle morn’s kiss
how you fall to float ‘pon the rippled calm of serenity
Oh but the tree the leaf the flower and thee are so very similar don’t you see?
Oh how the sands of time desire to soak up these longing tears of mine
and so become a castle amongst the stars
Oh this pained passion of poetry how it seeps from within
how the words wish to speak to say what is inside
how they ache to belong to you
Oh how I ache to taste the wine within your soul
Oh Passion Lust Desire, Water Earth Wind & Fire all combine to create the eighth veil
of which there is no name until we feel it
Oh the sadness of an empty glass where all that is left is the memory of taste
how my fingers are lost without yours
how my soul is empty without yours
Oh how my poetry is useless without you
and yet
this solitude is mine
and yet
how my soul aches to believe …
On a spoon of hope is my heart’s beat waiting for you to take a sip
and feel me within you always
and so
my darling
let my ears be kissed by your heart’s song
let my soul be melted and reformed as us
let my poetic malaise be tempered by your smile
let my solitude be but a petal dancing in my path
to fall to float ‘pon gentle morn’s kiss
to fall to float ‘pon the rippled calm of serenity
… and to smile in the love of which exists only in my dreams!
June 8, 2015
The butterfly’s freedom
The green releases its beauty to the heavens
buttercups, daisies, red campion
scarlet pimpernel, poppy and cornflower
all these earthly stars and more
shine from the roots up
to their colour and their fragility
to their open embrace of themselves
These wildflowers, who upon looking up
as is their wont
spy a chrysalis hanging, windblown into a cobweb
and so they nod to each other in prayer
hoping it is not time for the butterfly
or the spider
to emerge
and there
it moves against the flow of the breeze
and the wildflowers dip their heads
for they can see the spider in the shadows
waiting
waiting to feel the tremble
against its own trembling anticipation
and there again
it moves against the flow of the breeze
twisting and jolting the silken threads
sending ripples along to the creator
and so, seeing the chrysalis split
the spider moves in silent hunger
; the wildflowers shed petals
Slowly the butterfly emerges
a sunrise in the shadows
bringing the beauty of its
stained-glass wings to illuminate the dark
Rushing headlong
the spider, upon reaching its prey
is struck by the sheer simple beauty
of this creature caught in its larder
and there he hits a wall of blindness
for the butterfly
with a mighty effort
spreads her wings to their fullest
and catching the spider’s eye with shards of revelation
he himself becomes paralysed
as if he has tasted his own darkness
; paralysed with affection
And now, the butterfly
hanging by one little leg
reaches forward to kiss the spider
freeing him from his paralyses
and away she goes
to shine her storm-filled beauty
upon the world
The spider weeps into the shadows
as the wildflowers bow in reverence
for they have seen a miracle this day
for even in the darkness
there is beauty
compassion
empathy
and
the light of love
June 4, 2015
The darkness of night’s embrace
~
Beak full
skipping through daisies and buttercups
the blackbird hurries along
till it reaches the spread of green
beneath mottled clouds
beneath the blue
of distant time
and there in the shadows
he rests and imagines himself an owl
sailing through the night
with silent wings
seducing the air with soft caresses
of feathered kisses
in the darkness of night’s embrace
and there
beneath the comfort of green’s sanctuary
he peeks out at the distant blue
with only a beak of orange giving him away
and there
off he goes
to fill his beak once more
to feed his children not only worms and caterpillars
but tales of mystery and imagination
of owls and the beauty of life
and there
as they drift off to sleep
…
whoo hoooo
whoo hoooo
…
in the distance
of their dreams
beneath the comfort of green’s sanctuary
June 3, 2015
Being Human: My second book of little thoughts is on sale now :)
Hello everyone, it is a very happy day today. I took delivery of my new collection of little thoughts, which includes …
If a butterfly can change the weather
then our smiles can change the world
Deep in the twin souls of one
is where shadows go to become the sun
Freedom comes from loving what is
The book is available to buy here at Lulu.com where you’ll also find my first book, Silence Happens, which includes …
As a leaf falls, know this Earth is not ours
When in pain, think of the reason
for this could be the cure
Skin talks in colour
when it should talk in love
Silence Happens is also available on Amazon and Being Human will be there soon :)
~
Thank you all for visiting and following my blog. You are all very much appreciated and if you want to read more about me, please click here to read my interview with a journalist from the biggest-selling regional evening newspaper in Britain.
Thank you! :D
June 2, 2015
Till the sky sighs more
There is something missing
within the core of me
and yet the silent emptiness brings poetry
and yet
this poetry I dream of
the skin of your soul
your touch
your touch
a forgotten memory of your smile
waiting to enhance my reality
with birthing kisses of new remembrances
yet to tattoo themselves upon my mind
and upon remembering
I see you smile as if the dawn chorus sings only for you
and so I drift to the forgetfulness of intensity
where I soar over mountains as an eagle to land upon snowy peaks
to drink each snowflake’s soul till the sky sighs more
How the evening’s ambience shines with soft silken kisses of early moonlight
as the soft play of musical imaginations drift into the atmosphere of smiling warmth
and so like a feather of memory he kisses her hands from fingertip to wrist
with slow tantalizing tremors of touch
till she sighs more
for in the setting sun
she will find his soul pulling her close
May 29, 2015
Eternal Solitude
This coffee cup hides behind images of time
; a stimulating Lowry landscape
I taste memories hidden within depths of despair
as I sip, resting my lips against each brush stroke of time
from which the artist found something unforeseen to conquer
some demon of art, something darkly poetic within his imagination
something of which he needed to explain away
and so he kissed the virgin canvas with fingers of neglected creativity
and as my lips move away, I am crushed by my own reflection
crushed by myself as I retreat
deep into the shadows of time
where stains are the glue of ghosts
and these ghosts haunt me with bitter tongues of coldness
seeking a revenge from all the darlings I’ve killed
from all the moments I’ve ignored and not allowed breath
from all the candles I’ve burnt only to snuff out, too early, their spirit
from all the feelings, passions, melodies and songs I’ve burnt into neglection
and as Lowry wraps himself from handle to handle
frozen in time
his daemons dance in eternal solitude
… and there I see myself
~~~
Recently I joined a writing group, Castlecroft Writers, and our homework last month was to write a piece, prose or poetry, of no more than 1,000 words about Revenge and to incorporate a mirror … and so I sat looking at my coffee and noticed the painting by Lowry wrapped around the cup, and so I wrote the poem.
May 25, 2015
To be alive in her arms
Music
how it reaches in
how it touches
how it soothes
How it
envelops the cold within
to bring about a feeling of knowledge
to bring about a feeling of warmth
to bring about a feeling of life
Music
how it belongs
how it creates
how it breathes
How it
envelops the cold within
to stop the sadness from burning
to stop the torments from breading
to stop the sky from falling
Music
why is it only you
I feel
when this solitude aches
to be
alive in her arms
May 20, 2015
Evening sky
Evening sky
of pale blue
of shimmering white shawls drifting upon thermals
of a dark heaviness of rainy fingers of cloud
of the coming night upon the horizon
Evening sky
touching the green
in a confusion of birds
in a silence of time
in a stillness of awe
Evening sky
evening sky
evening sky
how is it you catch me in your arms
with your heart
how is it you enter my thoughts
with your eyes of dark evening sky
the colour of a darkling forest
and deep hidden glades
where Faery perform their subtle magics
Evening sky
why is it you
I feel
when I breathe
May 14, 2015
Publication news and a little something else!
First off, I’ve had a micropoem about a kingfisher published in the May/June edition of the Shropshire magazine “yattar yattar”. It’s a print publication but also available to read online here It is on page 141 and they have added a nice picture of a kingfisher :)
OK, here’s the little something else :)
My local newspaper is doing a full-page spread about me, my poetry and my upcoming new book of Little Thoughts (hoping to have it on sale before the end of May). I shall be in this Saturday’s (16th May) Weekend supplement :)
I had a telephone interview with them last night and today, at the school where I work as a cleaner, I had a photo shoot!
The paper is called the Express & Star and it is the biggest-selling regional evening newspaper in Britain, with a readership of over a million! Blimey :)
(Update) It is now available to read online here I’m on page 2 :)
~
Apologies for not writing much lately. I’ve not been well.
May 4, 2015
Beautiful chaos
Bluebells distract the eye in such a beautiful way
as they huddle together beneath branches of the leafless tree
they shy away from the green field
peppered with daisy and dandelion
where blackbird and pigeon peck and bob, peck and bob
in their comical way
A perfect camouflage of grey on grey
as squirrel acrobats his way through barren branches
while clouds cushion the heat of the sun
There’s a chill in the air as a random blossom petal of white
flits in chaotic abandon and yet, there are no blossom trees here
How far did it travel to land on the green amongst the daisy and the dandelion
watched by the bluebell, squirrel, pigeon and blackbird
There’s a chill in the air as my empty coffee cup sits beside me
rocking in the breeze with gentle little moments of oblivious calm
and for a second a stillness envelops me as the sun
breaks through to kiss my neck
and here I sit, oblivious to the pen
as bluebells distract my mind
and here I sit, remembering within
as the blossom turns into a butterfly
and so the poet resists the urge to write any more
for how can he write anything to compare
with the beautiful chaos around him
