Tuesday, 12 January 2010

She Left Me

She Left Me

She left me
In a howling wind
By a steaming train
On a misty morning
Beside the rusting rails
In the damp drizzle
Of the Derby dales


The destination list
In my hand
Telling me
Every departure
Is heading
Due south
Out of town
And I’m standing
Under an overhang
In a shadow
Eyeing the snapshot
Of forgotten promises
Reminding me
Of dharma bums
And Hobo days

It’s always easier
For the one who goes
Than for the one who stays ..

I strolled along the tarmac
Edged back
Onto the endless platform

Stretching like a highway
From yesterdays hollow dream
Into a never-ending tomorrow
Of sorrow
Pulling me toward it
Pushing me away

Crashing into my life
Like a runaway
Careering out of control
Onto the sidelines
Of my misaligned
Daily grind


You came in like a thief
You stole the moment
Like a movie star
Shedding a past love
In the sequel to
Last summer’s blockbuster
In the discovery of
New roles
To play
In the limelight
Of red carpet fantasies
That populate
These fleeting instants

Shared glances
Like flashbulbs igniting
A glimpse of your cloudy soul

You flew into
My threadbare existence
On your magic carpet
Pulled the worn rug
From under my faltering ankles
The last fraying
Strings of sanity
Linking me to the reality
Supporting the foundation
Of crumbling bricks
I’d built my shaky house
On the rocks ..

So pour me one too
And we’ll
Skim the surface
Of the slippery slope
And slide
Into the future
Like a baby
A waiting
Midwife’s arms
You arrived
As a carpetbagger
Hawking your wares in public
Selling me
Every trick in the book
Pulling a rabbit from every hat
Every last drop of my blood
That was sucked from my veins
Went down the drain
With the rest of the waste
And all the heartbreak
Into the sewer pipe
Of an aching sigh
That rumbled and purred
In your throat

Gargling a mimic
Of the sounds of
True love
Spontaneous emotion
That captured my heart
Snared in forbidden passion
The few remaining seconds
Shared in a life worth living
I took a breath
And held it
How long can I hold this

Breath I thought
Exhale I thought
Breath exhale
Don’t breath
Play along
Don’t play

Play at Love
Play Be Real
Play Dead

Why Play
With Love?


As I cast my sail to the wind of change, turning away from the rocky shores where many have lost their hearts swimming against the tide of time, I offer this fragment of a tale ..

With passion, regret, longing, anger, fear and all the other confused and altered memories that accompany a separation of soul mates, I've tried to present a personal yet fictionalis
ed account of that emotive sense of lost love as it manifests itself in the early stages ..

As an artist I try to open myself to all the potentialities life presents – I believe that dreams require effort and risk and taking chances is essential to growth .. and this piece is but another examination of the wanderings of a poet through the encounters that create those opportunities for experience ..


Anonymous said...

The cable car photograph is almost identical to a Vickers award painting. Are you the original author of the image?

KW said...

That's a very astute observation AnonyMous ..

Naturally, I was looking for an image to accompany the first verses of the poem "the damp drizzle of the Derby dales .. eyeing the snapshot memory .." flash bulb moments and linking with the suspended thoughts etc later in the piece, and this pic seemed to fit the poem for a number of reasons ..

I was honoured to accompany the recipient of the Vickers Award on the day she took the photos that led to the painting you are thinking of .. however, to answer your question directly - I took this photo on a Samsung 35mm manual load camera {;o)

Anonymous said...

like the poem kev but its a bit long winded for a guy like me !!
i would have wrote (she f'ed off thank god !!) lol


KW said...

Lol .. cut straight to the bone man .. bit harsh - can appreciate the thought tho .. haha


Anonymous said...

I really like the reference to the 'carpet bagger'. Ripping off what they can and then moving onto the next. Well done!

KW said...

As a writer, it’s obviously a bit of artistic license on the end of a relationship .. the phrase links well with the ‘red carpet fantasies’ suggesting someone slightly deluded who desires the glamour of recognition, and ‘magic carpet’ which is a reference to someone who promises a wonderful mystical experience but delivers pains and confusion .. and ‘carpet bagger’ a subtle innuendo toward that post civil war ‘entrepreneur’ and the powaqqatsi spirit (a Hopi Indian word which is often translated as living parasite), someone who makes themselves stronger by attaching themselves to the life of another and stealing their soul ..

Whether these were intentions or simply outcomes, who knows ..?

But, thanks for the comments – and for reading .. Cheers ..


Anonymous said...

Good one Lez. Remember the pen can be mightier than the fraud.