The Apple of Your Eye

I remember that day
The way old friends
Remember together
The laughs they have shared

The laughter now pittering
Into a dull, lifeless thud
That echoes the sound
Of my voice

Hoarse and distorted
Because my lungs fail
To release the stale air
They have been holding captive
All this time

That day the sun
Breathed little whispers
Upon your naked face
And kissed each freckle with warmth

I remember how hot it was
In contrast to your icy stare
The one where I reflected
Inside the hollow shells
Beneath your brow
        
And I saw that
The apple of your eye
Had rotted to its core                    

Growing Up

Do you think we ever knew
What would happen to us
When we were young and stable
And tears only flowed
With a bruise or a scraped knee
When the only drink in your hand
Didn’t hurt your head the next morning

Do you ever wonder
If colours will start to fade

Until they become just shades
Or if music can never again be
Accompanied by games played at parties
Where goodybags would be handed out at the end
And pictures would be taken
By adults with proud faces

Can I still paint a picture
With just my fingers and a star-shaped sponge
Or do I need a palette of dull colours
To cover up the beauty in our lives
When hearts were just paper cut-outs
And not fragile pieces of glass
When we thought being grown up
Was the only thing that mattered

This Land

Recently I have been listening to a lot of PJ Harvey's latest album 'Let England Shake' which is all about conflicts in war, soldiers and a whole lot of other interesting and important things regarding our heritage, country, lifestyle and so on. Its definitely made me think more about what I had previously learnt and read about wars, especially modern ones and of my Granddad who never really liked to talk about his time fighting out in Burma during WW2. I live very close to the sea, in fact just a couple minutes’ walk away is a large golf-course that ends into tall cliffs along the Norfolk coast. I don't know why but I started imagining a battle taking place there and this poem is the result of that...

 

Snow falling through the winter cold,
sharing with it - the dreams of old
Ice and sleet that pave the way
To where my loved ones forever lay
Cold bodies beneath marbled stone
The Same tomb that will one-day be my home
This ancient crest of land
Sowed by the workers ancient hand
Has once again breathed life and death
With only the bleached-white bones left

Of those who fought through gas and rain
Over trenches in the pouring rain
Fields ablaze with rich explosions
Shrapnel falling deep into the oceans
It's gaping mouth - harsh and bitter
It's teeth woven like thick wicker
And as the winter snow melts clean
Who would know what this land has seen?
Let the memories die with those there
To keep fresh again this winter air