My goodness, the last few posts have been powerful stuff!
Look at the time - I seem to have joined the night-time brigade.Titan has given me the title Friends or Friendship for my next poem - I will set to work on it after I've had a sleep!


Lin
xx

I wonder if you expected a lovey-dovey kind of friendship poem? That is what I intended to write - so goodness knows where this one came from!

I thought you’d always be there
To turn to and advise,
But it seems you are quite deaf
To all my pleading cries.
They echo in the wilderness,
Drift in breathless air,
I cannot call you friend
Because you’re never there.

I cannot call you friend,
The title doesn’t fit,
Your reactions are all wrong,
On the fence you sit.
But never looking my way,
A rift which has no end.
Forgotten and discarded,
I cannot call you friend.

Forgotten and discarded,
It hurts and makes me cry,
I did not realise
Our last parting meant goodbye.
You live inside a different world,
New friends, so well regarded
Not for me to know
Now forgotten and discarded.

Lin
xx

SCOTTISH RIVER WEIR

Content, as I, the river meandered aimlessly,
As if it could not quite decide which way to go,
Choosing instead to stagger slowly ,like an inebriated sloth,
Across the landscape,
And who could blame it?
NOT I,
For my heart and soul were surfeit on the intoxicating view,
The mist tumbling down to frame a hundred different hues of green,
Silent,
But for the distant gurgle of the deep dark water,
As it momentarily skipped across the rocks ,
Then,
Almost immediately was overcome by languid content again,
And silent, like molasses, it crept on around the bend,
Drawing my eyes and mind,
Like a maiden as she dissapeared into the tumbling mist,
I sighed for I knew the river Goddess had called
And that Islay and I must follow.

Soldier of Fortune

Sometimes when you feel besieged
By troubles and daily deeds
You smile and put your armour on
Smiling then you carry on

You enter back to the field
Holding high your sword and shield
In battle again you swing and parry
Defending those who need your aid
When others leave you have stayed.

At the conclusion of battle not only sabres rattle
These days such events can leave scars
That rends and tear the flesh and mind.

Then in the silence left behind
The discovery that you find
All others have left the field
Leaving you as on your entry
A solitary sentry in whose ears evermore can we hear the cannons roar

Friendship
----------

Friendship is a word we use
Not nice when to appease
Can instill a sense of loyalty
Or create genuine unease

The friend part can turn in to fiend
R removed dictates the end
Like a Moth eaten geeky Tank top,which
Was once the latest trend

The fickle and the fancy free
Jump ship because it's hip
The friend departs,leaves empty cups
Of bitterness to sip

The ship is rocked,tossed in the squall
The storm protected mind
Which guards against the tempest of
A lifetimes woes designed

Back off in seperation then
The ship part from the friend
When the friend part of the ship lies
Shipwrecked at its journeys end

Friends give without false motives
Ships can harbour mutiny
Can walk the plank or cut adrift
Float off so they can,t see

It,s hard to open up,commit
Deep emotions languish there
Where Skeletons play sad lonely tunes
On rib cages of despair

Hold close true friends,but watch those ships
Check the sail well and the mast
Decipher carefully the flag
Before the die is cast

Titan

you all have been busy ritin away whist i been in hospital,wot some lovley poems you all have done,well done all,keep it up

Hi Ali,
Hope you are feeling well,you sound in good spirits.Ignore the following,they are only words cast to the Four winds.
Pleased to see your name pop up again.
Titan

Tears of a Clown
-----------------------
Cold burning incongruity clawed
Feather-like in depth defying subterfuge
Skin thin rice paper guards against times espianage
Where assassins footsteps traced weave delicate Demonic shadows

When being,then not,in juxtapositions rapid slow decline
Caught guilty on his innocent smiling frown
Frustrated now in acceptance meekly screaming
Clowns sadness smeared through happy Crimson tears

Revealed laughing in Rouge hidden countenance
As greasepaint contrasts age bled sorrow
Stares desolate in times compact mirror cracked
Where loss becomes a reflected haunting mask

As guttered purple rain!! that washes down that bitter pill
Smiles drunken fascinated in lifes abstinence
Snipits coveted raised spewing from cerebral depths
Pours unintended blasphemy uncorked in its construction

Where nothing if at nothings end,or pearly gates negation
Casts illuded trickery thieved wanten paused as frigid lust
Counts years,days,minutes on the seconds
Projected joking,tumbling on "the web" of his destruction

Titan

There is a history of Murder ballads going back to Stagger Lee and beyond and I thought I would have a go at the sinister side of death!


There’s a killer on the loose.

There’s a kid kicking a can in the alley,
The street lamp casts shadows on walls
Four drunks pass around some cider
And fight for their share of the spoils.

In the shadows he staggers his pace
Looking to his left and then to his right
Searching every window for victims
In his sleeve he’s secreted his knife.

Tonight the moon is high in the sky
it is then that it brings him the curse
He dresses to do what he must do
Overcome by desire and blood lust.

No one ever sees him or hears him
Until he whispers his name in their ears
Before they even know they are dying
A lock from their hair he has sheared
.
Mother’s tell daughters to stay home
They are discussing him daily on TV
He’s front page news in the papers
There’s a killer out there on a spree.

Who is this killer amongst us
Where does he go when he hides
Is he the butcher or the bread maker
Why can’t we see through his disguise.

In his bare room he smiles in reflection
Taking joy in the giving of nightmares
Lays his head gently down on his pillow
And pleasures at the scent of fresh hair.

Images

They say ‘the camera never lies’
But in truth it may deceive the eyes
The lighting here the shadows there
May hide the lines of natures care.


An airbrushed image maybe stunning
But is it an exercise in cunning?
The lens sees to the inner core
This is why we stare
Looking for those with hidden care.

A photograph of you I’ll take
Divested of all life’s affectation
Then in this state of grace
The shot full focus on your face
Showing you stripped and bare
Shows the person really there

Barbara Thompson.

Lath thin, trembling like a reed in the wind,
Laughing at the vagaries of shaking palsy,
Blowing up a storm in her attic
Never a moment when static
The love of her man there for all to see
Her friend Tom Issacs singing a pastiche
Confounding all the critics
Refusing to be a statistic
A wearer of exotically coloured clothes
Telling the world how she handles the lows
Encouraging us by example
Our NHS is now a scandal.
Your talent and humour shone through
From one PWP totally inspired by you.