poems – Page 4 – Rhythm of the Ink

Jul 17, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, cave, flash fiction, lost, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

Lost on a Mountain Top

Wandering, lost in the mountains, thin air slowing breathing as much as it dares. Lost in rock and boulder and crag, energy beginning to lag. Pain in my body, fog in my mind, a way out I try to find. Every step becomes a grind close to the edge of lost with time. Busting my spirit to drag my body, occupying my mind with thoughts of hot toddy.

Stumbling, exhausted, every step of the way, trying to find a landmark to show me the way. Night falls on rock sprawl, into my sleeping bag I crawl. Fully clothed with hat and gloves cold tries to take me from the ones I love. No sleep in the night, no end to pain in sight, running knowledge in my brain until first light. Cup of tea and bite to eat, my body craves more of the heat. Deserted ridge no one shall we meet, weary body stumbles to its feet. Reluctant steps one by one taking whatever will come. Then in the valley I see some cars, I must let them know I’m not far, as I shout, the words come out and echo around the outcrop. Did they hear, will they soon be here? I sit on a rock, this is where I stop stuck on a mountain, not knowing how to get off this rocky top.

Then, to my surprise, I see a pair of big eyes and a wet nose, where he came from I don’t know. He sits by me keeping me warm, barking my presence to the rescue team, like a horn. Soon, I was surrounded and with questions hounded, before I was led off the mountain and thoroughly grounded. Glad to be down, in the warm and dry, small tears in my eyes as I have a cry, don’t ask me why, but I’m now down, off this high.

Jul 17, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds cave, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized, words

Permeable

Solid ground not permeable from liquid and drudge, needing much rain to turn to sludge. Saturation of moisture softens the surface, takes away the debris, refreshing the life and changing its flow where it ends is not for us to know. The more water falls the softer the surface gets, until it blends into its very core, opening ever spore. Softening every cell its own unique well.

Layer upon layer stripped away, deposited across vast expanse forming stacks of loam and sludge, deposited where ever it roams the ground to intermingle and permeate, to infiltrate into the heart, the centre the core, of its new-found host, better able to handle this intruder, extruder earth mover. Deposited until it is time for it to complete its journey: dissipating, dissolving ever evolving until once again the water runs clear.

Minerals, rock and solid stock, channel the residue to drains and plains where it’s absorbed again, pure and clean lubricating the scene, too little to saturate or change its hosts state just making it more adaptable more resilient to the flood of liquid to decay its surface, dissolving as part of this cycle ever-revolving. Waiting for the molecules to freeze, creating a hard-exterior, baking, drying, disappearing at midday when the sun is high, able to cope, more to come from this flood of stained life, sodden water streaming life creating and altering with its blunt knife.

Jul 17, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Love That Is

One step closer to complete love, the love that lasts and defines you, it’s hue absorbs you takes your breath away enthralls you. Love that will crawl to you no matter how hard struggling over ever yard, just to be by your side, being part of this roller coaster ride.

Love that commits with pride, that will never hide, love that’s knowing, seed sowing so it goes stronger, lasts longer chained to lovers under the covers, blossoming fruit, made to suit. Never looting, always routing, sometimes disputing, but never abusing.

Love like tomorrow, a love never borrowed, hollowed, mellowed. A love that is fierce intense makes sense. Love that makes no difference what you drive or rent, whether you borrow or how much you lent. Love that lets you be heard, to venture, to be angry and spent. Love that holds its arms out, pulls you away, knows what to say with no delay. A love for every day and every way; a love that’s implied without having to say. Love that is here to stay

Jul 11, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, doubt, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

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.

Jul 9, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, death, flash fiction, lost, Mental Health, Poetry

Rita

Rita lays in bed, memories of younger days running through her head, she can’t get up, so reminisces to help the time go by, tears in her eyes as she roles back the years. She is waiting to be got up washed and dressed, Carers are late again causing her distress. Every day it is the same, on her own all night long no water no food feeling so lame. she rues the day she got old, the way she must live and she feels the cold. Carers come and knock the door, she wishes she could tell them she doesn’t need them anymore. Short of time, they can’t stay too long, with the system something must be wrong. Strip wash as quick as they can, is this how you would treat your gran. Cup of tea, no food, no time, it would be a crime. Left on her own, with pendent and phone, in four walls that she calls home.

She looks forward to the next visit, which will be soon, but, no one appears at noon, hunger pangs griping her stomach, she dares not complain, she should be grateful the morning people came. Three o’clock, they are late again sandwich and tea, she wishes they would stay, she tries a plea, they are off as soon as they came, short of staff and travelling again.

Last visit of the day, microwaved dinner on the tray, she is put to bed at eight o’clock, they can’t do it any other way, no matter how much she pays, she still must look forward to short lonely days. Night time is long, sleep is sporadic, she reflects on her life and her husband deceased who would have showered her at least. She longs to be with him, where ever he is, he’s truely missed.

Morning strikes and sunbeams drift in to the room. Carers knock at eight o’clock, they are early to put on her socks. They let themselves in and poke their head in on Rita hoping to greet her. There is no answer, they start to stare, her worn out body is in bed, but the spirit has fled, all they could do is stand and stare wishing they were not there. Rita’s soul stands in the room looking down like the moon seeing the reactions of those who care, now they have come early and she is not there.

Jul 4, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

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.

Jul 2, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, love, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Data

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.

Jun 30, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, love, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Taboo

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

Jun 26, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, poem, Poetry, scottland, Uncategorized

Woman in Black

All in black, mystery woman tell me all you have in your soul, let me be your mole digging out what’s inside of you, as I have not a clue what is true. I see you standing by your door I say hello but am scared to ask anymore.

Lady in black where are you from, are you weak or are you strong? Let me hold you tight at night and explore your body until daylight. Let me discover the mysteries of you, how you work; every nut, bolt and screw, wanting to disassemble that barricade to get to the real you.

Woman in black don’t knock me back, let me write my name into your heart so we never drift apart. Let me smother you with cloaked love, sliding you in like a well-fitting glove, let me reach deep into you and pull through what’s trapped and hidden away, let love come out to play.

Woman in black I long to know who you are, let me see your healing scars, call me in from afar, to drink from your mysterious spa.

Jun 25, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, love, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

My Little Girl

Can I protect you from this wicked world and keep you wrapped up as my little girl? But I want you to be your own world. I want to stop you getting hurt, keeping you alert to the world that will corrupt, interrupt and disrupt you. The world that will slay you pray on you; mess with you.

How can I make you see, stop you making the same mistakes as me, making your life wonderful and complete, keeping your life nice and neat? Preparing you for the challenges you will meet and people who will try to take your seat.

Can I Save You from your soul, save you from digging a big hole, wrap you up and hide you from the world so you stay as pure as snow? but, in my heart I think you know what you need to do, but it doesn’t stop me worrying about you.