Some of Sparkies Poetry
 

YOU STILL LIVE IN ME

I drive past your home at midnight, Just to feel the essence of your body in that house.
Your car parked outside makes the space in me loud, But my apologies remain quiet as a mouse

The air that you breathe in this suburb,
Eventually comes down my lungs too
And the red light you stopped for this morning
Is the same green that let me pass through.

Your designated seat on the red and grey retreat
Is one I delighted in stealing.

But its not like before, when you’d wrestle me to the floor
And banish every other feeling.

A love in my eyes for a man I despise is a habit I’d tried hard to break
Your devotion still haunts me,
And your protection is a warranty that is still very hard not to take.

Mr. I'm sorry I forgot your love
 

Unlock the door and let me in, I’m sorry I forgot about us.


Don’t push your blood red skin into those cold tiles any longer,
The coolness is but reparation for the coldness of my love.
The drunken subconscious actions of your intoxication,
Is a sickly reminder of how I don’t care nearly enough.

Come seek sanctuary under the feathers with me,
I’ll suck the tears from your watery face.
And should you start to squeak or rust,
My reverence will oil your hinges and repair your forgotten happiness.

maze of maize
 

Come dance with me in a paddock of growing green
Capture the life it brings to my eyes when I steal your essence
Lift me above the pasture, bless it with our worship
Paint a rainbow over my mouth and keep it from evanescence

If we leave the countryside it rains until it pours
And when our bodies hit the surf the tidal waves ignite
The lights go out when we go home
And the to respire without your oxygen is a fight

Lay me down in the Lucerne
I love its sweet, earthy aroma, just like country smog
No one can see us in this maze of maize
Lets slumber forever and rise above this fog

the wall
 

And your there on the wall, smiling at me from behind the glass.
Your only just in the background of the photograph and no one else has ever noticed that you are there.
They only look at the direct subject, the rest, their eyes scan pass.

But I know your there.

I’ll love him for as long as my heart knows how.
I love him and that’s enough for now.

But your still there on the wall. Forever smiling at me from behind the glass.
You’ll always be in the background.. and no one ever notices you’re here.
They only look at the direct subject, the rest, their eyes scan pass.

But I know you’re here.

Into the haze
 

And so you’ve sailed away
Into a hazy abyss
Shunning all connection
Inverting every kiss

I hope you’ve made yourself feel better
I hope the toxins sooth your pain
That stubble of yesterday there on your chin
Is nothing to us, not loss nor gain

The one thing harder than remembering you
Is trying to forget
The first sight of safety,
And the very last time we met

Time cannot heal such holes
And I don’t want it to
I want to feel every inch of this loneliness
I want the grey to soak on through

I can’t let go of memories as pure as those you gave me

Ferris Wheel Dean
 

Ferris Wheel Dean, he meant so many things.
It was Easter and we thought we had given life to our very own piece of love.

The look on his face above the crowd, amongst the lights, up so high with the autumn air on our faces
I thought it was an unmatchable purity,

He has since explained that he needed to pass gas and was trying to compose himself.

A thousand lies can conceal a thousand truths but I will probably misunderstand all of them.
An admiration I held for a boy that could be content in doing nothing but nothing, has turned into contempt for a man that does nothing but nothing.

They're all quite nice. It's clear that you like playing with words.

Assuming they are self referential works:

At least you still have your goat ...

(don't any of you read anything naughty into that. I meant it to be nice. And encouraging.)

haha! yes.. true!!

thanks Wolf.

"Quite Nice" could be scary.. but ill be pessimistic and say thanks :)

Yes they are all self referential, but i only ever seem to get the urge to play with my dear english when i am feeling down, or really tired and emotional.. so most of my creative writing ends up like that.

I love the way your words tumble. These poems are making me want to paint, now. hehe.

Very expressive. Keep it up.

Sparkz, if I refer to poetry as anything other than "deplorable" it's high praise. Honest.

New one
 

WILLIAM

A blonde boy with hazel eyes stands under the sprinkler
his olive skin and button nose glow under the summer sun
he loves to run and play, but his temprement is mild
Big hugs warm my heart, the promises of a son....

Mourning for a child unborn and not concieved
a bittersweet goodbye
for William who never existed,
a dream that was a lie.

I'll still see him in my day dreams,
a light that we could have created together
scarred inside - though i may be
he will remain inside my soul forever

Great work. Impressive.

Keep it coming.

Sun, I just went back to the start and read them through. How terrifying. :sniff:

well terrifying was not a word i expected! They are progressive though, the first one more than 2 years old, and William just last week.

Interesting poetry. It seems like a cross between rock and roll and country style.

haha COOL!! thanks laebedahs. I love rock and i love country so i'll take that one as a compliment

I would love to be able to write a good ballad... ive tried but they all end up either too cheesy or depressing. I have a few country droving books and i really like this one called Vale Rusty Reagan. It makes me think about all the times I avoid a drunk at our local little inn, or everytime i've ever known of an old town drunk. We have a few of them come by in our little country town, and i never associate with them, but these words made me think about a few of them in a light i never had before. I wish i could write something that could do that to people. move them as it moved me.

Vale Rusty Reagan

Old Rusty Reagan’s cashed his chips
No more he’ll go on droving trips,
And no more grog will pass the lips
Of drunken Rusty Reagan.
He died of drink, or so they say
Or pure neglect, but anyway
The sands of time have slipped away
For luckless Rusty Reagan.

Although he camped upon the flat
The bar was his true habitat
And home was underneath the hat
Of drifter Rusty Reagan
There’s none to say from whence he came
Not sure, in fact ,if that’s his name
To Rusty, though, its all the same
Dead finish Rusty Reagan

No relatives with reddened eyes
Will weep at Rusty’s sad demise
No lowered flag at half-mast flies
To honour Rusty Reagan
We’ll miss perhaps his ugly dial,
His raucous voice and toothy smile
We’ll miss him for a little while
Then forget Rust Reagan

Perhaps somewhere someone will wait
A mother, sister, brother, mate
Who’ll wonder as they vainly wait
For absent Rusty Reagan
I’d like to think some tears might fall
For Rusty’s ilk, no-hopers all
Who answer that last trumpet call
Unmourned like Rusty Reagan.

excellent. :thumbsup: :thumbsup:

Written in 2001 "Just lay there". Written just weeks before a terrible demise of a very unique relationship.

JUST LAY THERE

Laying there was all you had to do
to keep me satisfied and in love with you
sleeping next to you is a "de ja vous"
that will always be welcomed

Your beatiful body protects me
and keeps me safe from harm
i feel safe and secure
beneath the embrace of your loving arms.

the resisitance of your kisses
is a challenge i've not yet met
they are beautiful, and my chest thumps
at your lips - so warm and so wet

Lay there beside me forever...
You and me sleeping together

I love you

so just lye there

Its all you have to do,
To keep me satisfied and in love with you.

Very nicely done.

But the "lye" (typo?) there threw me for a second the first time I read it. :lol:

Rusty Reagan is great -- I love those pint-in-the-air singalong type songs

No typo, sometimes a lie is the only thing that can keep you happy.

Flight Plan
 

Boarding the plane my heart flutters, to think of impending compaction.
The tears well, the stomach turns and the bones begin their contraction
Over and over i repeat, never again will i risk my ties that bind
With a searching for beauty that without them, I may as well be blind.

through media and mayhem, ill witness my dreams that go by
and never reach those destinations through the perils of the sky.

When I’m old and living has passed and the flesh that set forth me is gone,
There will, only then, be no fear - and, like an arrow, i can allow my travels to be born.

I know, but while a white lie might do that, sodium hydroxide (lye) is only good for making soap. ;)

And melting dead bodies to hide the evidence.

oooh yeah, you american spellers. all your i's e's and Zee's

I was always taught to spell lye (as in laying down) as lye? maybe it is Lay? would that be correct?

:D

Up on this hemisphere, I learned it as lie, lay, lain, lying and lies.

Grown Tired
 

Quarter my love, like William Wallace
Send it 'round the world to all four corners
i will let it be taken
and watch all of its layers unfurl

Less turbulent the love will be
when at last it is set free
for I've grown tured and need to rest
without this fighting in my chest.

SunSparkz, you are very talented. I do like the way you use language. I particularly liked 'William'. Very moving.

I also liked this verse "The air that you breathe in this suburb,
Eventually comes down my lungs too
And the red light you stopped for this morning
Is the same green that let me pass through."

fall kissing to my knees - but fall right throgh the floor
 

The beats fill up my head, like top 40 demons releasing twisted endorphins into my brain

Too much Excitement, from the gaze of your bedroom eyes, allows my common sense to wane

Your judgmental acceptance was a craving - that left me broken and naked to your flames


I don't think my skin can handle the aging smoke that fills the air

From the barrels of prematurely cocked guns, ablaze with ego and misguided flair

Thinking i had found love, i was just dizzy from the super-hold gel in your hair.


You had nothing I could use or need. I thought i was smarter than to let lust lure me in

I guess it is like Stienman says - we're endlessly searching for an original sin

And you let me leave you, without a battle - because you knew that I would win

I read this a little while ago and didnt have time to post a response at the time.

Sunsparkz I really liked this one. I especially like the second stanza.

That last line is awesome.

I also love the final line of the poem. You've put in these great images throughout that are darkly humourous, but then you end with a line that has real gravitas. Love it.