peace – Rhythm of the Ink

Oct 14, 2018Nov 1, 2020 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bomb, cold, death, doubt, lost, love, neighbourhood, poem, Poetry, poets, tears, Uncategorized, words

Would You ?

When you hear that mother cry, would you stop and find out why? Or would you just walk on by? When that man in the doorway is high, would you bother or carry on by? When that man needs food for the day and has nowhere but the street to lay, would you stay and pass the time of day? Would you turn the other way?

When a heart is breaking would you bother about the making? Would you walk by and leave a child to die and not hear their desperate cries without shedding a tear from your eye? When bombs hit far-off lands, do you try to wash your hands and hope you never go anywhere near those desert sands? When the rains don’t come upon another man’s plains, is all you can do is say he is to blame?

Would you love and cry and hold a man’s hand as he dies, or would you leave him to die alone. In whose name do you walk by too scared to even try? Is it that you don’t really care so long as you are still there? What if it was you, would you expect helpers all in a queue? Would you cope with being alone no friends no family no one at home? If you stand on top of that building, waiting to jump, would you hope someone will ask you why or would you expect them to just walk by.

Sep 22, 2018 Markey Mark Symmonds balloon, Blog, Blogger, neighbourhood, play, poem, Poetry, poets, Uncategorized, words

Bubbles

Bubbles floating in the air, young eyes stand and stare. rainbows popping in the air. Smokey bubbles burst with a puff wispy white against the backdrop of night.

Bubbles floating at every height, children running jumping with all their might. Little faces full of glee playing with bubbles until its time for tea.

Linking bubbles making new shapes, over the ground they make their escape. Then comes the biggest bubble of all, gently blown until it falls, still that pack of bubbles entertains and enthrals.

Sep 18, 2018 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, play, poem, Poetry, poets, Uncategorized, words

Touch Me

Slowly touch me, caress my body with your fingers, let this tingling feeling linger. Let this feeling resonate like the voice of a singer. Feel me shudder as sweet words I utter and free my mind from daily clutter. Just concentrating on where you choose to wallow, savouring each and every hollow.

Calming my spirit, my racing heart, that sensation I love right from the start. You move in patterns as though it is some kind of art, this feeling is tearing me apart. I want to touch you caress and hold you, but I never want this feeling to depart. So, I lay there just admiring the painter applying her art.

Then comes the climax there is no holding back as you find the erogenous pathway and I struggle to hold my emotions at bay. Until finally I must let go, to show you what you have done, the final rush of feeling, the moan, the sigh as I realise that the end of this feeling is nigh.

Aug 27, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

A Good Man

Life should be so simple for a good man, who should have lots of fans. He bothers not about convention what’s more important is his intervention. From violence and insults he chooses abstention, very rarely the centre of attention. Deep down he fights his demons, which to others he seldom mentions. For he is a man of good intentions, of many kind deeds too many to mention.

Yet when he does good and helps the neighbourhood it’s never reciprocal when he is in need and his heart starts to bleed and help he needs, he is left on his own and no one wants to know. This man, would do anything for any one, now look at how he is repaid, when he is down and glum.

He is tired and spent, fed up of being a gent of being used then abused, that’s not the spirit in which it was meant. That man who offered his all and asked nothing in return, who will never learn as he is driven by genuine concern. Look back at your memories, he will not be there, as he helped you when you were in despair, now you look past him as if he is not there, until, you need him again and more of his compassion to spare.

Aug 26, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds army, Blog, Blogger, bullying, doubt, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

View from the Shadows

In the lonely shadows I hide, watching two worlds collide, scared to venture outside. I live with pride, that I am not part of what’s going on outside, part of the animalistic joyride, of sheep that swim with the tide. I’m happy in this lonely place where I hide.

Some nights I have cried and to find a reason I have tried, but no reasons come to mind, why people should hurt fellow man kind. The actions of hate are just outside my gate, no sign it will dissipate. People shouting cussing each other and their mother, no respect for each other nor religion or colour.

I look from my hide out, from my long lonely shadows, safe behind strong doors and windows. Watching the animals to and fro as the battle scars sows, where it ends, who wins, no one knows, just hatred row on row. Tear gas and burning cars, sticks and stones, co-ordinated on mobile phones. I still hide, all alone, watching the hatred roll down the road until it is back out of site mistakenly thinking that’s the end of the fight.