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Adventuring since 1986.

Posts tagged with ‘poem’

Part 1.

I went to Prague, Czech Republic (Praha) and walked around for 5 hours. These are some of the things that I saw.

August 5th   Film-Club  Narodni

The second evening doubt came to me,
or grew from its beginnings,
Here in a foreign city
a thousand miles from London
The wheel continues on its way
and I on it, turning.
There is no way outside
to escape this turning.
Only by a timeless act
To turn the non-existent
into something now
Do I reach another place
in becoming human.

By : Anthony Blake

all the same, i miss you.

I wrote this when I was 18 or 19 and graduating high school. I always had a problem with “growing up” and I think this was a response to that. It is about losing one’s self when growing older in years. It is about only being able to dream about being free then waking up to a reality of cold coffee and cubicle life - something that I am terrified of. I framed this and gave it to my dad for Christmas one year.

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Delicate, floating on clouds of white and wings of the friendliest dove.

Sailing through the breeze into the harbor amongst the golden ships,

Children laughing as they push each other off the plank they imagine to be there.

Flaunting eye patches of midnight and shrouding little bodies in red and white stripes.

Up and down, jumping and then taking flight.

Playing Peter Pan with the old man next door.

He never did grow up.

Little scratches cover little knees.

Not bad enough to require a band aide.

Whistling and hooting.

Diving into the frigid twirling pools of pale blue and turquoise,

Laughing in transit.

Happiness and truth in their smiling cheeks of red.

Days of youth refuse to be numbered.

Running as far away from that ticking crocodile as possible.

Heavy clouds of gray carry the children off to lands covered in thick black tar.

Removing the eye patches and throwing them into the rush of the sea.

They jump off the deep end and into red ties and cranberry socks.

Unforgiving khaki and corduroy.

Meetings, home late and up early.

Returning to the harbor and twirling pools only when the night is abandoned by even the moon.

The light of the day brings it all again.

Back to a reality of unenthusiastic mornings and deadlines to be reached.

Longing to dance with the butterflies and sing with the crickets.

The opera singer of life carries a bad tune.

Children stirring in the night,

dreaming of playing in those far off lands that they can still reach. Just maybe if they focus on it long enough!

No time to think of childish things. 

All the time in the world.

Days of youth refuse to be numbered.

end of summer.

Ok. so this is just for fun - I wrote this at age 15 (10 years ago!) when I was on a sort of rhyming tangent. I don’t care though, because this was one of my most fun poems to date and it is about the end of summer. I guess I was always trying to escape this world through writing.

——————————————————-

As the trees shed their summer leaves,

so do the fairies dance amongst them pleased.

Passing by the park one day,

the fairy song drifted my way.

Soft and sweet and light as day.

I looked and looked but to my dismay,

the fairies had all but hid away.

Quiet and still I stood.

Then upon my silence kept,

there they crept from out the wood.

One fat and round and bright and gay,

one small and long and thin looking like the month of May.

They danced in the fallen leaves,

sharing dandelions with each other that they stole from the earth like innocent thieves.

Jumping from flower to flower,

I don’t know how long it lasted,

maybe an hour.

I hid behind the cherry tree to take a better look.

They swam amongst the fallen blossoms they gingerly picked up and took.

Placing one by one in their hair,

I wanted to speak, but I did not dare.

For how rare it is to see,

a fairy running and jumping and laughing with glee.

Upon darkness the moon did shine,

I lay down in the wet grass smelling divine.

They came near me with a light linger,

I dared not move,

not even a finger.

Resting with me on pillows of flowers,

we drifted off for hours and hours.

Until yesterday turned gently into today,

misty dew covered our pathway.

Awakening in a far off land,

with new eyes the horizon I scan.

The fairies bid me adieu,

I am sad, but I must leave too.

Into my deepest dreams they go,

as the weather changes from fall leaves to white snow.

I will remember that day again,

when I played with fairies and called them my friends.

No better playmates you could find,

than fairies dancing wildly in leaves,

leaving the world behind.

In Motion. A flight.

In motion.

Tegel to Shiphol.

6am in the air. Berlin to Amsterdam. Seat 7E.

Plastic wrapped cakes, plastic wrapped spoons, plastic wrapped earphones. 

Plastic wrapped flight.

Bright blue flight attendants with plastic wrapped smiles. Tired eyes.

“Have a great flight” “Hallo” “Hello” “Guten Morgen” “Good Morning”.

Taking off still in the dark, dawn is somewhere beyond the horizon.

“Coffee” “Sugar” “Water” “Tea” “Tequila?” “No” “Cream” “Orange Juice” 

Yes, please.

Sleeping with eyes wide open, mouth ajar too. Bumpy turbulence, quick and a baby crying. Loud. 

The sun greets us and brilliantly illuminates the white dense sea of clouds below. My eyes go for a swim in them. 

Fuel exhaust, fumes create massive waves in the air. Rippling. Diving. Dancing.

Crumpled trash, discarded coffee cups and more plastic wrap. Seat belt sign, prepare for landing. “Flight attendants take your seats.”

Touch down, smooth. Schipol. Amsterdam.

Mind your step. “Have a great day.”

Jet-lagged Heart

This is a poem I wrote in Lisbon. It is about everything or perhaps nothing at all. In the past. - Natalie 

————————————————————————————————-

There is a place somewhere inside my heart that only beats for you. Blood boiling and pulsating pounding rhythms, thumping for you. My cold jet-lagged heart is yours. I do not know what love is. I do not know what it looks like. I do not know what it tastes like or feels like or smells like, but I breathe you and I taste you and you are sweet smelling dripping in honey.

You dictate me easily and I weep for you and I smile for you and I am confused by you and all I think of is you. Every puddle reflects your image and warmth, you are in every store window and in every sweet smell. 

You are full of light - there is a darkness there but it is hidden behind your smile. Hidden far away from anyone but yourself and that is where you will always keep it and I know this. You exhaust me and invigorate me and I can’t think around you and I think too much as well.

I think I met you somewhere in my dreams because you will never be a part of my reality. You live in my dreams. You consume me.

Still, I do not know love. I only know your eyes and how they cut me so deep.

——

Spoken word bit here.