Poetry

Too Wise

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

What do you say
to the one who’s a true hearted friend?
the one you met last, close to the end.
Forget about passion,
forget about pain.
We’ll talk about other things.

Music and books,
Mad Hatter and Alice.
Will Arthur return again?
If we shout loud enough
do you think we can wake him ?

Too old for illusions,
too wise for that now,
no love poems here
never-never, they’re banned.
Keeping your feet on the ground
is the hardest part,
romance is easy,
i feel myself floating,
the challenge is avoiding a  fall.

We can be children and play.
It’s an adventure, that’s all.
I don’t need to say anything,
you know all i mean.
You know, as i do,
things are not as they seem.
There are monsters out there.
They wait in the dark.
Hold tight,
they wont catch us my darling
we’ll live in the light.

Not Drowning

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

many times i saved you from drowning

you kept capsizing the boat

i never was a strong swimmer

it takes all my will power to float

i lay on my back and gaze at the sky

and try not to think of the depths far below

or the shark i saw in your eyes

 

Well! Alice!

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

i sent a kiss to Alice
it floated in the air
i have no idea where it went
she may have been at the palace
it may have caught in her hair
i only know i sent it
it wafted about, and i lost it
for just a little while
but it reached her i think
i heard a tune, saw a wink,
it made me suddenly smile
and then i knew, however it flew
i would see her soon enough
it doesn’t matter if she is late
whatever they say, I’m the Hatter
the clocks will have to wait

So Sudden

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

all night long i dreamed a dream
a dream i dreamed before
and now all day its sadness
comes to hold me in its thrall

vague scenes of loss so long ago
fires lit in the snow
the burning trees, the mountains tall
harsh voices down below

the slaughtered sheep
the children, mothers,
lovers intertwined
unwitting in the night

one hour that turned the world about
brothers, fathers, wives, are gone
red seeps into white
my life was overlooked

i alone, must journey on
there is no solace for this loss
but silence in the hills
filled with sadness still

imagine this,  look about,
family, friends, gathered round,
in each breath and passing moment
treasure all the love you  found

November 5th ~ Fireworks

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

this is the time when salmon leap
strong swimmers against the flow
reaching the calmer pools

it’s rained all day, softly falling
soaking my old worn coat
silencing all the birds

November trees stand stark and bare
black against flattened clouds
where sodden leaves cloak the paths

when evening falls
the children stand huddled
shining eyed, gripping sparklers
in safely gloved hands
tonight the world explodes
a riot of colour
glittering stars in the dark
rockets reach high
past the chimney pots
bursting in bright mandalas
they fizzle and fall to the earth
acrid smoke fills the cold air
lingers and hangs, long into night
awaiting the grey of tomorrow

the rain keeps on falling
flooding the rivers
soaking into the earth

this is the time to kindle the fires
replacing the summer sun
before the winter comes

Faded

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

when you wake from a dream

into which you had drifted

if you sleep again quickly

you can dream it again

but it’s never the same

 

the scenery’s shifted,  it’s not as it seemed

where there were roses, there’s only a shadow

the windows are dimmed,  the doors won’t open

the music that played changed key long ago

 

the dream that you dreamed

has floated away

 

 

No Red Poppies for Them

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

this is not death in the trenches
this is not genocide
nor incurable disease
they have no poppy fields
no proudly treasured medals

they will never be heroes
in trouble and strife, they depart

our young men, so easily gone
in the aftermath of wars
in poverty, in aimless despair,
without hope
and with nothing to leave

they take their own lives
from a nation that has no heart

************

The #1 top killer of young men in the UK is suicide

Captive Carer

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

i see the streets from big wide windows

i wouldn’t cage a wild bird

i see the magpies perched

on nearby roofs and chimney tops

 

i haven’t left the house for months

except for weekly hurried visits

to the bank and back again

to pay the hired help who come

for one lone hour a week and leave

 

i look up maps of nearby woods

woods to which i cannot go

i have started planting trees

within the sheltered garden walls

i see the rolling hills so distant

the snow will come to cover all

the winter nights are drawing in