Melancholy

Winter had died a slow and lingering demise.
As springs subtle silhouette hinted at better times.
Warmer fruit filled days will soon come, 
and the sun will break from behind the clouds.
This was a  promise that mother nature,
had never once failed to deliver.
She will lighten my mood just as quickly as winter had dampened it.
but: inevitability the seasons return
and that will remain forever more.



A version of this poem has now been published in AD LIB 2012 - A poetry collection from Rising Brook Writers. 
ISBN 978-0-9557086-9-5

The Liver Bird

Measure each day using sighs alone, 
And yet, she still she turns my heart to stone. 
The silence is too often too loud to bare.
But, when all is said and done, 
We both know that she still cares.

Bad start

Just when you thought
'It can't get any worse'
Oh My God!!
Toothpaste down my shirt.

Motionless

Love is action, not new erosion
Life is angst never none emotion

Departed

Termless love

Dreams are never easily kept.
The summer has all but gone my love,
and all the swans have left.

Rainbows

I believe that every smile holds a secret.
A promise of a story untold.
I daydream in rainbows, and I gaze at the stars.
I follow the magic that's wherever YOU are

The Via Dolorosa

I walk the way of the suffering

With a weight opportunity lost
The burden of grief too heavy a load
Deny aids that may carry my cross
The truth has become my accuser
It controls the enemy knew
Grey clouds descend o'er questioning eyes
And answers believed to be true

Stolen moments

I wait patiently, planning the next move
As the girl of my dreams, sits just across the room
Patiently waiting, for the perfect moment to arrive
When quite by chance her eyes will meet mine

Shield me

An umbrella can shield from the snow and rain
But it blocks the sun that may brighten again.

Laconism - Stephen Harvey

What is she thinking?
Her smile reveals nothing to me now.
No hidden words.
No glances with twinkled eyes.
No history.
The clock seems too slow in time with my heart,
It still remembers better times.
A day when her eyes aluminated life,
A day when our secrets were king,
Furtive and camouflaged.
She was the queen of cloak and dagger,
But now Silence is her weapon.
I have no reply.


This poem has been published in 'Still Waters 2011 poetry collection'
ISBN 978-0-9557086-8-8

Think?

Silence is my enemy,
I don't need time to think.
My thoughts betray my emptiness,
then deeper down I sink.
I hide myself in masquerades,
behind a serpant smile.
On the outside often gladsome like,
On the inside just a child.
You've never seen the real me,
he's trapped inside my head.
Exploring paranoia,
reviewing whats been said.
He seeks out hidden meaning,
disguised in words of love.
looking for a normal life,
that he knows wont be enough.

This poem has now been published in AD LIB 2012 - A poetry collection from Rising Brook Writers.
ISBN 978-0-9557086-9-5

Broken Prose

Broken prose from shattered lifes.
Who spoke in haste with tongues and knifes.

Dark - By stephen Harvey

My old enemy dark hides in the shadows
He is ready to pounce on my mind
A blade with blunted edges
But, as deadly as sin itself


This poem has been published in 'Still Waters 2011 poetry collection'
ISBN 978-0-9557086-8-8

The Tommy Knockers - Stephen Harvey

Knock, knock, tap, tap! What’s that sound?

The soul of a collier trapped under ground.

He'll stays down there till the end of time.

Buried under mountains of darkness and slime

Knock, knock, tap, tap! Who goes there?

A Tommy Knocker whispers in the midnight air.

The sound of his tapping will serve no doubt

To warn us of a danger when it's time to get out

This poem is loosely based on an old skiping song of unknown origin - If you can discover the original poet/author I would love to find it out this information.

Information

The 'Tommy Knockers' were believed to be the souls of colliers that had been killed in the mines, and would warn other miners of impending danger. The mining industry was filled with lots of superstitions including 'Blue devils' 'mining dwarfs' and the 'Whistling witches' who all warned of dangers in the pit.

They believed that they had been given a 'token' or a 'chance' by the ghosts of miners lost or trapped underground and to ignore them would bring on impending danger. Some miners also believed in their dreams, and dream about a 'burning shoe' was one such warning to stay at home the next day.

Common superstitions

If a pitman met a pig or a woman on his way to work, for example, it was a sure indicator of disaster, and he was to return home and miss his shift. 

Another belief was that if the pitman set off for work and found he had forgotten an important Item, he should not return to fetch it; he should either carry on to work or go home and stay there. 

Certain acts were unlucky: in parts of the North-East it was not safe to use the word ‘pig’ (but the dialect equivalent ‘guissie’ was allowed); to rob a robin’s nest could lead to an accident at work, etc.

Such superstitions held less and less power in the 20th century, but recently I heard from an old collier that the term "blue devil" was used for “the ignition of localised pockets of gas" 

It doesn't take much imagination to turn a blue flame into a devil or imp, and when your are a mile underground with only a candle as company, they must have been a very frightening sight.



This poem has now been published in AD LIB 2012 - A poetry collection from Rising Brook Writers.
ISBN 978-0-9557086-9-5



Contact the author

Princess

Daughter of the red giant Jupiter
Princess of Sun and grantor of life
Your embrace radiates warmth my way
I find myself dreaming within your light
Yet, hopelessly lost for perfection in prose
A name I dare only to whisper in sleep


This poem has now been published in AD LIB 2012 - A poetry collection from Rising Brook Writers.
ISBN 978-0-9557086-9-5

Gone

Gone are the chances to build bridges gone
Gone are the times in anguish his fun
Gone are the childhoods with punches once thrown
Gone are the days when left on my own
Gone are the bruises and cries in the night
Gone are the grown ups who thought he was right
Gone is my Father
I miss him so much
Gone

Mirror

I look to the cross but demons stare back.
The razor in my hand creating brand new tracks.

Love

What is love?
My pain explodes
A life abused
Story told

Down

Deep in anguish
On my own dark street
Where were you?
Never give up on me

Childhood

Living
Our
Vineared
Existance