Uncles and Oil.

Yes lovelies, I know this is my THIRD blog of the day but I thought this one had to be shared.
It's a poem written by my Great Uncle Mike when he was first diagnosed with Alzheimers six years ago.
Morbid but beautifull, it was written to his wife Isabelle.

Old Love.
His bones were crumbling columns of sand

that blew apart when she breathed, and scattered
grains across the canyon like memories.

Once, while he was sleeping, she sewed shut
the tiny tear on his temple where the nightmares broke in
with a single strand of her tawny hair.


Once, while she was sleeping, he planted seeds
in the corner of her eyes, so her sorrows
would always bring her flowers.

-Michael Rattle. Aged 72 at the time but only 30 at heart.

This one I wrote after reading an article about the recent BP oil spill. Bastards.

Deepwater Horizon.
We stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.

Pelicans lick poison from their wings
along the shore, where dolphins wash up
slick and black as million dollar lies.


Pelicans lick poison from their wings
with their eyes clouded and hungry.
Slick and black as million dollar lies,
they watch, waiting to be washed clean.


With their eyes clouded and hungry
the black suits shrug their shoulders.
They watch, waiting to be washed clean.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say.

The black suits shrug their shoulders
as the black blood pours in barrels.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say,
smiling with a row of drills for teeth.

The black blood pours in barrels,
stealing sunlight from the seafloor.
Smiling with a row of drills for teeth,
we stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.



The Olympic Torch xx

Rain, rain, go away.

' 'Rain' by Mother Nature '

She sets up and dims the lights
Her orchestra of wind blowing through lush green trees
Builds from a whisper to a forte
Crescendo!
Beautiful lightening cast blinding light in a white dangerous rhythm
Thunder drums quietly, then boom
And it stops...
To let applause ripple through the valley which she lingers
Until it stops in the early hours of the dawn
With the sun peaking over the glittering hills
Her song has finished
She slips away and hides in solitude
To write another song
To shatter earthly silence
Once again to amaze us all
And shower us with 'Rain'


The Olympic Torch xx

Clumsy Angel .

My clumsy angel with your broken wings,

Hurt beyond repair.
Mocking tones, but still you sing,
Of love and hope, never of despair.
Come down, come down tonight,
I'll try to mend you with my hands.
The echo of the past crashes like a thousand tides,
No one showed us to the land...
Like sleepwalking in a dream
Everything I see and touch is new.
Don't fly away into the sky...yet,
I dont know if i have you.
Lift me from these shadows,
Redemption is right where i fell.
And that old feeling, those lies resurface,
Salvation might just be another hell.
Teach me how to grow them wings, I wish to fly,
My clumsy angel, you're never good with lies.
I know i dreamed you a sin and wished you goodbye,
And I know I don't belong in heaven,
But it's not wrong to try....


The Olympic Torch xx

The moon is in your eyes,
It stays low, but its on the rise.
A shadow falls down on everything you leave
There is a light upon everything you seek.

Now write you're own poems you lazy arse!

The Olympic Torch xx

Plural.
she lays there
on that bed
on those sheets
except its not her.



The Olympic Torch xx

Mwahaha

Muse.
You came to me like words, broken

And I turned you into a song.
Humming your sweet tune devoid of sorrow
I walk down the roads that might take me somewhere.
Far away but still near, always
Close to you.
You said I could mould you.
Shape you free, and yes you were
Like clay.
You came to me like a revolution, forgotten
With all the idols washing down brick walls,
Like promises from my ear.
With all the heroes burning out, turning into statues.
Everyday they play, dance away
To ashes, dust
It never changes, catatonic
Like paper planes that take flight,
Only to be still.
Like hollow flags that are raised, beautiful
Just to sway in the wind.

You came to me like a stranger, lost
Went everywhere with a rear-view mirror,
Karma dice, colours, music and sanity in tow.
Always contemplate how far you’ve come.
And still, you told me the way a tree bends.
Always lament how far you’d go.
Told me where to follow, lead.
Told me all the things unsaid,
Blasphemous whispers in my sleep.
Shelter, sparks
I feel tonight.
Never knew cold fingers running down my back
Could feel so warm.



Just something to piss a certain little blonde off  :D


The Olympic Torch xx

The Rain

So I wrote this one a while back, on a napkin, in Starbucks...waiting for the rain to stop...yeah..

The Rain

The rain finds a way

Through shattered, broken windowpanes,
And cracks in the ceiling.
Through keyholes in the walls, and
Peeling white plaster.
Through the doors that only open for some.

It makes its way
Through borders and barbed wires
That can’t be bought or cut.
Through places with names we can’t pronounce,
And gaps in praying hands
Maybe open or closed,
Lifted to the sky.
Sliding down your neck and chin,
Into your bosom.
Through the song of the bird that,
Has learned to sing.

And it will come,
From the news in the television and
Songs on your radio.
From mouths and eyes that refuse to shut,
From the crevices on your skin
Bones that are dried but not hollow.
And through the wind that blows
Across these shores,
The rain will find a way,
Drown the sentries of your heart.

Prolog.

Written in Geography.


Untitled.

The storm in your breast
Is nothing new.
It’s your heart,
Beating still.

The stories in your eyes
Are never old.
They always lead
Somewhere else.

The lines in your smile
Sand dunes.
Rising, falling,
Never the same.

There were times when
I’d wish you’d burn, and
Keep at it.
Burning.
The fire inside will never cease.
Unlike the winters, gone
But you remain.

 
The Olympic Torch xx

Untitled.


Look outside to the streets to see the seasons change


Beneath your window, the things that wait

The road disappears, singing, and you

Hum and mutter the songs you wrote.

That same hurt, unknown, alone, unnamed

Behind the word, hiding

Raids your mind like wounds you hide.

Forces a tear, makes you smile.

And until it wears you out, like

The moment you turn and forget about the time

You danced and were beautiful when you said

The world moved with you

Well, you are and it still does.

 
 
 
The Olympic Torch xx

Remembering you

Remembering You. (For my Papa Bear.)

Show me pictures of yellow streets

And all your walls
Without a name

I want to see your city shining
In shades of white
I want to see it dressed
With red lights
Remembering You.

I want to dance
In all your haunts
Hear stories from old men
Then lose my way.

Remind me that happiness
Is still worth its weight in gold
Find me
In blue of the night
Within bodies that shouldn’t be sold.

Spin this path
Like my grandmother’s hair
Black and white with a little brown
Take me to your lost green land
Where I’m waiting to be found.


The Olympic Torch xx

Another poem.

Disturb Me


disturb me for the one whose given up


for the one who’s perseverance has run out

disturb me for the heart that knows no love

that looks everywhere else to find their worth



disturb me for the one who lives in chains

for the one who’s captive in the prison of their shame

disturb me as a former prisoner of despair

whose warden was her own jealousy and fear




burden me so I can see your heart

that my hunger might be for something more

teach me how to serve 

with words of grace and hands of love

i long to feel the dust around your feet

disturb me

disturb me in the places of my heart
that have hardened, become numb to life
disturb me out of comfort zones
remind me of the passion with which I once burned

disturb my happiness
that I may seek joy in you instead
disturb my busyness and noise
let your whispers be my guiding voice

burden me so I can see your heart

that my hunger might be for something more

teach me how to serve 

with words of grace and hands of love

i long to feel the dust around your feet

disturb me




The Olympic Torch xx

Of time there is a mean,
And there is no hook;
But things go not unseen,
Not without a look.

People running round
But, then, they stop
To hear, to listen, the sound:
A million ears to drop
To the drum roll of the ground.

The Olympic Torch xx

Its a silent song I hear

There's a buzzing in here tonight.
A gentle stir right at the bottom of me.
And i've decided to let it ring.
I want it to move.
Move until I have something to show.
Move until I have no other option
but to let it carry me away.
Humming deeply into my ears--
It is brushing its rhythms against my thoughts
And I'm tip-taping
Its subtle tones.

The Olympic Torch xx

When I've Run Out Of Words

When I've nothing left to write

And all my other thoughts are
Too private to type
Or too me to expose
Or too vapid to admit,
I read.

And oceans lap my toes.

The skies open,
And the hands of God
Are sculpting mountains.
I feel the lips of a
Long anticipated lover
Softly brushing against my neck.

I am lost.
Lost in the words of another.
Lost in words of Divine Inspiration.
Lost in the words of the world.

I am happy
And free of
My ever churning
Torrent of words



The Olympic Torch xx

Firefly
I was searching for the moon one night
I was searching for some light
But then there was nothing bright
There was no moon or star in sight

I walked and walked through the town
My heart still in a frown
I wanted to see a circus clown
That I might feel upside down

I just went on and reached the park
And the night was deep and dark
The birds won’t sing, the dogs won’t bark
Yet something made its mark
I saw a firefly, small but bright
It was alone in the dark night
It came near me, thought it would bite
But it just sat and made me feel alright
It flew around my hand
It flew around the ground
I thought that I should stand
And follow it around
It brought me into places
I never thought I’d see
We ran and played races
Until we reached a tree

The tree was at the top of the hill
It stood strong and still
Then I started to feel
The firefly was becoming ill

And as soon as it lost its light
The sun came shining up so bright
A tear came running down my face
And though it’s gone, something stays

I have always kept in mind
In the dark you’ll always find
Some light or someone kind
Because if there’s hope, you’re never blind

The Olympic Torch xx

About rain:)

Some of these I wrote last summer (if you can call it that) when the 30 odd members of my family and yours truly were abandoned on a dorset cliff to fend for ourselvesin tents with gale force winds blowing with its obnoxious dinner-date rain. Others I wrote this evening while listening and looking at the rain greet us hello. Enjoy xx


Bitter-Sweet
Stinging your face

Harsh rebukes
Thunder roll
Flashes of pain
Dark and furious
Waters of rain

Fading slowly
Anger receding
Soft and gentle
A caressing touch
Earth renewed
A fragrance spread

Showers of love
Moods natural
Wondrous chameleons
Nature's ways
Loving and harsh
Bitter-sweet

(this one doesnt have a name yet)
I pull in that fresh, cold air, which only a storm can bring.

The rain is light, the dewy wetness,
I walk along, among majestic shadow,in the light of grey clouds.
The air is fresh, as I inhale a deep breath,
With the light wide above, a whiteness in the grey.
The wind taps my back, and scales past my neck and hair.
The breeze is pleasant, as I delight in the reflectory puddles and raindrops.
I walk along, breathing it in,
On my path home, the work of day is over.
And here I go, one among the many,
enjoying the momentary solitude, as I dwell within the mind,
and commune through thinning crowds.
And you, tapping rain drops, bring me home.

Musical Tear (cheers Mozart and Debus)
Cymbals are crashing as thunder.

Flutes play a gathering wind.
Swirling trumpets are awestruck wonder.

Violins strike as lightning,
Basses play a fear resounding.
Senses are soon heightening.

As crescendo sounds,
The hurricane blows through,
Drum drops grow louder, harp astounds!

Sudden silence causes heart's delay,
But one soul shattering melody is heard.
It breaks across numb minds as day.

A single lyre plays fading rain,
Falling like trickling tears
Mark depth in Poseidon's pain.

Love and Longing.

Yeop, another shitty poem that I havnt quite finnished yet.
This one I wrote after reading Time Travellers wife, its kind of  a combo of him talking to his wife and then talking to his daughter. Err, so yeah, sorry about its lack of structure and touches of americanism. Just for those who cant quite put their finger on the bit about his daughter, the bit about saying the words is when he tries to sing to stop himself from fading. Well, here goes.

Love and Longing
Goodnight,

Tomorrow morning isn’t far
I will be interesting
When you’re alone and feeling bored
I watched a city cry, I thought I lost you in the fall
I thought of everything, I cannot lose you anymore

So won’t you stay? I’m drowning in the rain
Darlin’ say the words and I will stay the night

I’m just the trouble that you need
I’m just a year away from when the future swallows me
And when you’re left behind
It takes a lifetime to be seen
Cuz something happened here
Somehow we’re younger in our dreams

So won’t you stay? I’m drowning in the rain
Darlin’ say the words and I will stay

You’re different, and all the rest are the same
Yes, you’re different, and all the rest are the same

The Olympic Torch xx

Aww, bless :P

Matty

Sleep my sweet heart,
For you shall find
Nothing will protect you
As much as your mind

It analyses situations
Thousands of calculation
A secretive detective
Solving and predictions are its speciality

Sleep until nothing’s left
Sleep until the world is gone
Sleep until it’s cold
Sleep until the world is blackdream my darling

Do the impossible
Run from the worst
And snuggle in your duvets embrace
That sucking thumb is giving me royal approval

Dream of a better world
Dream of a bright future
Dream of the perfect life
Dream of what will never be

I'll turn the lights off
Just so you, dearest babe
Can explore the treasure trove
That travels with you everywhere

Shh, hush sweetie
Don't you wimper and recoil
You're safe here with me
I'll hold you in the arms

Sleep, sleep,
Walk your own way.
Earlier the night,
The sooner to start a new day.

Do you mind if I watch you sleep?
Dream and roll over
avoid the monsters
and the light

Sleep soundly
Sleep peacefully
Sleep deeply
Sleep forever

That smile on your face so precious
An exposed pajamad leg
Your hair splayed around you
Like spilling starlight

Nothing can hurt you
No one can get you
You’re safe now
Just close your eyes, baby.

Watch you sleep my love
when I kiss
the tiniest sample
of skin on your cheek
and know you wake
when I'm gone
and am gone
until again you sleep.

I’ll be with you soon
Wait for me.
For now,
Just sleep.

The Olympic Torch xx

The Fire....another shitty poem.

He walked toward her
a fire-stick in his hand
and spoke softly.

'This is fire
my gift to you.
It is safety from wild animals;
heat for your food;
romance for your life;

Igniter of Passion;
The Secret Furnace
which fuels the Sun;
the Starry Blanket
which covers the night;


the Milky Way which burns
hot-blue.


The Heart's Flame
is Cobalt Fire too.


She touched his fire-stick
and felt the burn.


He grabbed her singed hand
and kissed it

saying:
Fire too
burns
human things;

Passion too
sears souls.

'But how, ' she said,
'shall I know fire which heals
from Stinging Fire which
burns my soul? '

'How can I be sure my fire
is safe fire,

that all my passions
are healing flames
and not destructive ones? '

He, said 'Fire is like touch;
go close enough to feel the warmth
but don't press too much
or the skin recoils.

Fire is like two kissing lips;
go close enough to feel the heat
but pressure too much
you chip the teeth.

Fire is like making love;
it can sweep you away
but be sure Fire's Obit
brings you back
ensuring sure you don't get too close to the burning Sun.

Be the bubble-bee sampling nectar,
not the moth obsessed with flames.

Use fires' heat
but regard more its light;
for Fire is both;
heat is good
light is knighted.

Fire correctly lit
is a balm of both.

The Olympic Torch xx   (hehe, fire, torch. get it? :P)

Yeop...

Once again, this was written many a moon ago


The Fog Clears

In my hand i hold softness and steel,

tissues and blades,
more so than the rest of us
trickles down softly,
mingles like a melody,
biology racing with every breath,
chemical reactions on my wrist.

Gracefully down it glides,
down, down the skier flies,
assessing the mountain slopes,
with careful experienced eyes,
these are the memories in my eyes.

Laughter in the sun,
one will cry with pleasure,
the other will howl in pain,
but neither complain,
there is too many memories to gain
These are the memories in my eyes.

Spears in the form room,not just the physical kind,
tears don’t always mark a good time,
so many memories are held here,
these are the memories in my eyes.

sat here in the bedroom

Listening to Bobby
Everyone’s relaxed
The only thing in the air
Is the sweet calm atmosphere.



The Olympic Torch xx