Of Concrete & Glass
part 2 - a dark poetry collection
This is the second part of a 2 part poetry collection. You can find part 1 in my profile which is all about beauty and nature. This collection is the flipside of the coin and is all about the darker, scarier aspects of humanity, life and the world we live in.
TWILIGHT
The Darkest Hour
A young boy implores his mother
'What will happen when time stops?'
'Time will never stop,' the mother consoles
And within time the young boy turns into a man
The young man asks his teacher
'What will happen when time stops?'
The teacher replies, 'Time itself is not the issue,
It is what you do with your time that matters'.
As time passes yet again, the young man
becomes old. The old man sits at his writing desk,
Writing what has occurred during his time.
He stops, and looks at the clock.
He recalls his mother saying time will never stop.
He remembers his teacher telling him what you do with time is important
As he lays down his head and closes his eyes
he says to the empty room,
'I meant, what will happen when time ceases to be...
for me.'
Our World's Demise
The man watches dully
as flotsam washes up
along the once pristine shore
He can remember a time
when the water was clear
and not strewn
with old tossed away scrap
When the trees were full
and lively, in which birds sat
and sang melodies
And the hills behind
were dotted with flowers
Which man and creature
alike could enjoy
The man climbs on his steed,
disheartened
It was not so long ago
that the world was different
And why has it had to change now?
After centuries of no such change
It is not how he remembered it,
even a few seasons ago
He wonders, as he rides away,
into the darkening gloom
how many years will pass
before it once again becomes
the beautiful world he once knew.
The Pool
Walking to the waters edge
I see a reflection that is me, but yet not
Within the slight ripples on the surface
The face I see staring back at me
Looks frightened
The figure in the water moves
Startling me as I stand still on the bank
The young woman is clothes in white robes
Behind her is a place that is not where I am
I watch as the girl places something
quickly under some stones
And with a furtive glace around, is gone
Again I am looking at my pale self
Mirrored back at me in calm glassy waters
As I turn away from the pool
something catches my eye
A small mound of stone
Curiosity overpowers and
I lift up a hot dusty rock
Underneath lies an ancient scroll,
torn and dirty
As my eyes search the page
of fantastic and sorrowful things
I gasp, unsettled
Numb, the paper falls from my hands
Showing the clear sky above
that the author of the parchment was me
But yet not
Jack
Thick fog cloaks
narrow cobbled streets
under a tainted starlit sky
clogged with tattered forms
Harried whispers in the night
hiding in the shadows,
the unknown monsters lurking
in the dank and crowded streets
just around the corner
vampires in our world
crimson liquid seeping
into cracks in the cold ground
Statuesque
Cold, hard eyes
Unblinking, unchanging over centuries
Dark marble, quarried stone
Strong and unyielding
To the passage of time
Its grotesque yet strangely beautiful face
The unmoving eyes
Like that of its companions
Stare blindly down towards
Ordinary people doing ordinary things
Its thick wings branch precariously out
Stubby stone claws grip its perch for eternity
Its once unblemished body now speckled
By the gulls, pigeons and crows
That make it their resting place
Such is the life of a gargoyle
The Tides
Surging forth
Like waves against
a battered shore
Swarms of people
storm foreign lands
For what they believe
Hordes of figures
flow down streets
With signs and voices
raised high
For what they believe
Like the pull of the moon
on the oceans
The tides of humanity
will never cease
Being pushed
and pulled
In the direction
Of belief
Lost
Scattered like leaves
Blown about in the wind
A fleeting tempest
Swirling cyclone
My mind wanders
Trying to piece
The memories together
Like cut and faded
Remnants of film
On the cutting room floor
Found
Walking down a leaf strewn path,
Something catches the eye
glinting, a small silver key
A jolt surges
Muddied faint images
flash through the mind
A time long past,
A young girl in tattered dress,
A rundown house
The small key feels heavy,
Like lead as it rests in the palm
It becomes warm, starts to glow
Pictures flutter behind the eyes
A child's cluttered room...
A small cupboard...
A locked chest...
The key begins to burn
Continuing down the path
The glow intensifies
Picking the way down the path
And into the trees
Modern Warrior
Forging my way
Through the early morning gridlock
Jostling and struggling
Through the throngs
Defending my treasure
From modern pirates
Surviving the scalding morning coffee
Imbibed with the energy
To face The General in charge
The race to the deadline
Avoiding the gaze
Of the ranting raving wanderers
As the day comes to a close
Standing my ground
Against society
Nightstalker I
Skirting the light
Blending with shadow
Only sorrow in its thoughts
Draining life and joy
From all who encounter it
Eternal struggle
To move into light
Swamped by sadness
That which is
Depression
Nightstalker II
Skulking in deep recesses
Clouded by fear
With only malice on its mine
Grasping at villainous thoughts
Driven by greed
No light pierces its soul
No love wraps itself around it
In a cloak coloured dark green
From an eternity of jealousy
The creature called
Hate
Reflections
A water droplet is silent witness...
Of the life and circumstances reflected within it...
From the mundane...
...small creatures rustling in the brush
To unspeakable acts...
...discovered in desolate wilderness
...If only a droplet could speak
Water Whispers
Millions of water droplets
Flow silently as one
over the planet
Millions of droplets
Suspended effortlessly
Above ocean depths
The silence becomes
Tympanic symphony
In an instant
Scales
Translucent
Shimmering body of armour
Weighing hearts and deeds
and future possibilities
Measuring darkness and light
infinity and vastness
The scales of animal
The scales of justice
The scales of the universe
Tree of Life
Bridging three worlds,
the strong and ancient tree
Its roots stretch far
Into the dark underworld
Its trunk thrusts through
Our serene and earthly plane
Its branches strain
Upwards into the heavens
The Timeless
Forever stilled
Unmoving
Unblinking
Eroding and broken
Lying in the dust
Almost forever forgotten
Personified ash
And dust of centuries
Vague
A human shell
Once full of soul
And personality
Droves of the living walk
Solemnly past empty shells
On ancient sidewalks
Forever preserved
For the future to
Glimpse the past
Starbucks Society
Fast Food
Impatience
Cell phones, distractions
Early morning, afternoon, evening
McDonalds© and Coke© sponsored everything
Snobbery
New is old
And old is new
Absurd clothing
Trendy pubs and even trendier
Coffee bars, Exotic cuisine
Bookworm cafe revival
Along with airheads
Fast cars
Spurn transit
High price tags = status
Everyone expects something for free
Even if it is only whipped cream
For their Grande mocha coconut Frappuccino©
Under Starry Skies
Mountains glow like dying embers
Lit by the quickly fading sun
The blue stream turns to liquid silver
Under muted light
As the colours drain from the land
Small bright lights dance fleeting
Through the trees and flowers
Ethereal
Hidden from the human eye
Only seen in peripheral vision
Under a starlit sky
Is when the fairies come out to play
~~~~~~
Check out part 1 of my poetry collection, Dawn, below!
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