Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

Beautiful Sights

Speak to me only of love.
Speak to me only of care, tell me you will always be there.
Speak to me of open minds, leave alone the bigoted grinds.
Speak to me of perfect days, of sunshine and heat haze.
Speak to me of empty minds, waiting to fill with things divine.

Speak to me of truth not lies.
Speak to me in equal measure and unlimited pleasure.
Speak to me of unfound treasure, in more than good measure.
Speak to me of tiny child, infant so innocent, tender and mild.
Speak to me of your desires, how you want to take them higher.

Speak to me of golden sands and lazy days holding hands.
Speak to me of sea and surf, being at one with the earth.
Speak to me of bright stars and moons, which disappear before noon.
Speak to me of all these things, of living and breathing human beings.

Speak to me of earth, for I have only heard curse.
Speak to me of all things good, what is going on in the neighbourhood.

For I cannot see the beauty around or the thrills that shape and astound. All I see is the gloom of the dark and old ladies mugged in the park. Free my mind from dark thoughts and catapult me into the light so I may see beautiful sights.

Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story

Shadow Land

When I am alone, in the crowd, I feel the black dog come down from the shadow land. It’s shadow moves with slight of hand, doesn’t leave a foot print in the sand.

Depression grips and rips and tares, when the shadow land comes to bare, to cloak you in fear and anxiety, never leaving you to just be. The shadow land is in your head, where awful things happen and you always dread. Shadow lands, where no one is friendly and won’t hold your hands. Where deep fear is cast along the ground and hurt lays all around, where hearts never mend and dreams bend and the shadow land never ends.

The medication drops and the alcohol pops to hide you from the shadow land. No one sees, no one hears you are the one with the keys. On your knees a broken man in the shadow lands.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Paradise 

There is a cold wind blowing across the sand as we walk hand in hand, bare foot on cold sand. It’s been some time since we have been on land. The chill outweighs the thrill as we hear the trill of the birds. Not talking just walking on this paradise island, a canopy of Green on the edge of the sand. 

We look for food which seems to allude. We head to the forest to see what we can forage oh what I would give for a bowl of porridge. We find berries and mango a small picnic for me and you. Fire wood and shelter next as branches are striped and flexed. Palms for the floor we even managed a makeshift door. 

We settle down by the fire stripped to our underwear while we dry our attire on sticks in front of the crackling fire. We soon fall asleep, but up we leap when we hear the creep of a litter of critter from in the woods, deep. 

Then in the morning the sun is out and the sea glitters as waves trickle home to the shore. We head down the beach and into the boat to start our journey again. Pulling hard on the oars sweat drips from our pores in the heat of the rising sun.

All alone in a boat in this blue tranquil ocean afloat  to nowhere, just being there. Sand in our hair without a care we don’t know when we will hit there, wherever there is. But for now you, me, sun, sea and a boat drifting afloat is where we are. No house, no job , no car just us in a boat to see how far.