I am Detective

I am detective, some say defective, I will find your story, however gory, I read your mind and always you I will find. Tricks of the trade, hiding in the shade, covering your tracks, never going back. I will find you and your crime, come and get you through all the grime.

I am detective, new perspective, attention to detail, hot on your trail. I know nor care what or where, I will find you and the evidence there. Tell your lies, wear your disguise, I won’t compromise, I know it’s you I can see it in your eyes.

I am detective, the last one alive, I am coming after you, nowhere to hide. Rain or shine it makes no difference, there is no barrier no hindrance, for I am detective one of a kind, scruffy rain coat, brilliant mind. Your soul I will find, all day I grind to make a living, to catch you in the land of the living. I will not stop until off this planet I pop, and when I retire I will be reflective for I am detective.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Steamy Windows

Steamy windows from warm breath, panting and sighing until you scream, rivers of passion fogging the screen. Lovers indulging, gripped by the moment, steamy windows, no one can see but they all know what you’re up to and smile with glee.

Passions flaring, glowing bright aura of love penetrates the night, cold moist air meets hot blooded flair, lovers unite without a care. Hot bodies with sweat drenched hair, in a steamy car in the middle of nowhere. State of undress, hot caress, no duress, wanting to impress.  

Two lovers blowing a hot gale, until excitement prevails and one of them wails. Steamy windows, dripping fire from back seat desire in little attire.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017


You are missing, gone from sight, we are all worried about your plight, no trace of you, just simply disappeared, no note no reason why you are not here. Did you take flight and leave for a reason, did you think we would see it as treason? We’re you taken and driven away one day, where is the ransom note? you never took your coat. Are you wandering as a lost soul, are you in bits or is your mind whole? We have looked and appealed on TV for you to come home and live happily, but, to no avail, no happy ending to this tragic tale. Are you alive or living in a dive.

Maybe you left the country and are living pretty comfy? Maybe you are dead that’s what many have said, but I have put that thought at the back of my head, I don’t want to deal with that dread.

Did you choose to go? maybe you have plans I don’t know, maybe, you are just going with the flow somewhere that you don’t know. Days tick by very slow, weeks and months come and go, yet we still live in hope that someday you will show. I hope you turn up before we both go, it would be tragic if we didn’t know.

We hear of sightings all the time, we think we get near and you will be fine, but it turns out not to be you, just someone like the picture they drew. Alone at night in our bed we run through all the scenarios in our heads trying to work out where you might be, and why on that day you weren’t home for tea. Then comes the call we wanted to hear, yet the one we had come to fear. Your voice we wanted to hear for just over a year. The tone on the phone is not yours, it says they found you then there’s a pause. The next voice we hear is yours.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017


Bright light, explosive energy, flying heat across night sky, meteor on a race to nowhere, way up high. Millions of miles from the earth, powerful atoms at your birth. Spinning and rolling through the galaxy, streak of light in celestial flight.

Mighty energy with no destination travelling through our constellation, reaching for the dark matter of deep contemplation. Waiting for the crash into a planet triggering catastrophe on fragile life. Broken fragment, burning out and adding to the debris in the vastness of space. No pace, just floating junk in space, along with waste from the space race. Burning orb, your energy absorbed, spectacle of fire, look up and admire.

Funeral pyre, life denier, crater creator, predator of the sky, no real purpose as you prowl the night sky, looking for somewhere to lie, some where you can extinguish and die, to rest for millions of years in a place in the sky, final resting place away from prying eyes. the rest of your days spent in an ash haze until you are discovered and once again amaze.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Shades of Darkness

Night has arrived with all its shades of dark, changing when they meet an obstacle or just stretch over the park, the beauty is undeniable of these many shades of dark. Night sky blueish black with tiny pin pricks of light from the stars, light shimmering in this dark facade. Jet black trees meet the lighter skyline, depicting the scariness of the forest so fine, a home to wild creatures you only see at nighttime.

The darkness of the houses silhouette against the sky, some are lit with multi colours from Windows on high. Some are all in darkness tainted by the patterns of the bricks, no window lights as the occupants lie tucked up in their warm beds asleep for the long night.

 The darkness on the ground changes from left to right depending on how much is contaminated by light, in the dark shadows where few tend to go, midnight creatures are heard scurrying to and fro. My eyes start to adjust to see the greys and blacks that make up this night time landscape, where light does not drape.

In the darkness, light still comes and goes, but darkness and shadows still interlocking flow. As the sun comes up the darkness subsides, shadows of trees swaying colours from side to side. The day time is so beautiful, but, so is the night, I really can’t decide which one I like.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Wishing I Was You

Quietly watching, seeing your every move, feeling every word, hanging it on a memory peg, taking in all that’s around, the ridiculous and the profound. I’m there, right by you, but you don’t register me, why should you, as you can’t see. I move away to the other side, where I feel comfortable and safe, where I can watch you from a distance, like a starving waif.

I wait for you to notice me, for your mind to turn on me, waiting for the ball in my face or the stupid comment you must make, for all you mates’ sake. I have been watching you, I see you every day and admire all the things you do, I wish I was that way.

Everyone laughs and likes what you say; you always seem good at everything and get your own way. You have the best of everything; you seem to not try too hard, all your mates think you are a bit of a card. When I’m not watching you, I’m thinking of the way you are without an emotional scar, I work so hard, I tire of the day, all the time I know being like you there is no way. I can try to be like you but friends push me away, and take the rise out of everything I say. I work so hard to be the best but don’t come close to you or all the rest. I’m tired of trying to be you, I’m running out of zest just trying to do my best.

So, I sit and watch you in everything you do, hoping that one day I might find the secret from you, there must be something I’m doing wrong, something I should know, but no one seems to tell me they just come and go. So, when you see me watching you, remember, it’s your grace; the way you carry yourself; the fast running pace; that is what I’m interested in, that’s why I dare show my face. For just one day of being you I wish I could have a taste.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

The Animals Inside

Unlock the chain that holds you close to insane, release the caged tiger to play in the rain. Let out the lion to roar on the plain and the Eagle to fly on the wing, let your self be a king. Let the bumble bee sting as it moves from flower to flower driven by the wind. Let the butterfly dance and take a chance as you float and prance in the morning air.

Unleash the elephant, the mighty giant of the jungle, let him wallow in the filth of the city plodding streets and jitties, pounding the beat to a cumbersome ditty. Release the hound into the pound let it bark in the dead of night sounding out tormenters plight. Untie the horse to gallop on free from reins to stretch its mane, thundering hooves as it gracefully moves.

Let all your animals break free, like spirits hanging at minds outer limits. Flying through the world as though there last day was upon them, ready to pounce on every ounce of life, living a dream no strife, no life teetering on the edge of a knife. Free the animals inside you, let them run and dance and play, for this is the whole of you, set it free let it come through.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Lonely Bird

Lonely bird on the top of the tree tell me please what do you see. Is it the sky that catches your eye with fluffy white clouds floating by? Is it me watching you wondering what you will do, can you see me looking at you? Do you see the tree below bark all gnarled and base all hollow or is it another bird you see, maybe an owl or a swallow?

Tell me lonely bird up above, what is the thing you most love? Is it your chicks all nestled snuggle in the nest while you go to find food and feed them before you rest? Is it being free on the wing sawing above surveying everything? Do you like to sit all day wondering when to fly away until you reach another place on another day?

Finally, lonely bird, to think it’s absurd that all day long you are seldom heard yet you chirp all day but never utter a word. Oh, little lonely bird, can you teach me of your world? Let me see what it’s like to fly, king of everything that I spy, on the wing way up high.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017


Data scrambled in my head trying to make sense of every thread. Megabytes spinning left and right. Pulling binary tight then stretching it out of sight. Windows open in front of my eyes, spam comes through to tell me some lies. Virus protection was installed as a kid but now and then gets boosted by a tablet.

My bios settings are blue, Snapchat is all I get from you. What’s app I hear people say, my calendar tells the time and day, soon you will be on your way. The weather app forecasts a deluge of you. I load my external memory drive where I keep your memories alive loaded with photos and films in my private archive.

Circuits in overload, mixing up data and rejecting code, hard drive malfunction, burnt out junctions, chip malfunctions. Updates come sailing down, sending my data spinning around, unable to access my programs, load and reload but nothing bestowed. Then with the newness of all the changes, comes to be repairs to the glitches and bugs in me. Cos, I am renewed and running again, logged in for all to see.

My data processes at lightning pace, reading the signs in your face, biometric scans to stop your scams, whirling of electricity powering Webcams. Functioning properly shiny and new only my programs still run, now I have erased you.

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017



Loving her always, you’re in a daze constantly berated never praise. She is tired, over worked, it’s just a phase, one of those days, excuses for her were made. Hidden temper, don’t upset her, all your fault, it will never halt. The person staring inside, you wished would just burst out and cry. Fists and feet and nothing to eat blood from your lips as you keep them zipped. Calm on the surface, smooth it out, you don’t want her to scream and shout.

Shouting insults, you don’t deserve, from the woman you love and thought you deserve. Never happy always right you haven’t got the energy for another fight. You take the beating and verbal spite, she’s not bothered if it’s day or night.

One last straw, you can’t take anymore, pin her down emotions are raw. This is the last time she attacks you for sure, you want to hit her but that behavior you deplore. Imaginary line drawn so fine. it’s too far this time, what you do next, your life will be defined. Get off her tell her to leave. you want her to live you can’t let her die. you sit in the corner and start to cry. She really doesn’t see why. She takes her stuff and leaves you feeling rough, the door slams and you’re all alone. Shattered and scared at the top of the stairs. go to bed with the smell of her still there

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017