Archive for September 16, 2014

Touch

A moving poem deserving more readers πŸ™‚

Belfastdavid's Weblog

I sit back,
close my eyes,
free my mind,
reach out my hand
to touch whatever’s there.

Sometimes soft sand upon a beach,
sometimes rippling water of the sea,
sometimes grass growing on a cliff top,
sometimes naked flesh of inner thigh
above a stocking top.

But every now and then
I reach
and nothing’s there.

I search and search.
I need to find
and touch again
familiar things I love –

the mug from which I drink my tea,
a book with well-read pages,
my favourite teddy bear,
your hand.

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Excommunication

I try to talk and words come out a quote;
No matter what I say, they are not heard
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.

So much we spoke about, so loud we wrote;
That you won’t hear me now seems too absurd.
I try to talk and words come out a quote.

Your tired voice just tells me that you’re sad,
Your letters, bleak, polite, and not deterred
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.

Remember all the moments that we had,
Now what is left, reminds me of our flirt.
I try to talk and words come out a quote.

I’m reminiscent, while black clouds afloat.
Regretfully I feel your words, they hurt
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.

We both are dwellers on a different road.
It’s time to move, just speak and say the word.
As mine, you burn them while I write this note.
I try to talk and words come out a quote.

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