road

Contactless

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

no one spoke a word to me
three days have past, since the last,
(a drunk outside the station
who wanted company)

in the shop I pay for milk
no hands to touch
no coins to pass
an electronic beep

contactless transaction
(shallow smiles)
(I could weep)
thanks is all we say

if I laid down
beside the road
and fell into deep sleep
it might bring some relief

but every day I walk for miles
to pass the time away
‘Is this the road to Coventry?’
‘They all are mate, I think’

 

 

 

*** being sent to Coventry is an expression or an action that means no-one will speak to you – you are excluded

 

Growing Up with my Son

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I dragged him down the road with me,
our life in carrier bags.
Nothing ever lasted long,
the good times or the bad.
He had no choice, nor did I.
With each inflicted change
the world was re-arranged.
We never had a peaceful home
that we could call our own.

I was lost,
I was young,
he was my loyal son.
I didn’t have a map.
I hope our road
through right and wrong,
was honest and had heart.
but bad luck played its part.

Some say I had courage.
Some say I was wild.
I’ll accept the judgment of
the man that was my child.

Rear-view Mirror

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Objects
seen in the rear-view mirror
might be closer
than they appear.

This warning,
you said,
could apply to us.
All the time you were there,
very near.

I considered those words for a while.
I thought I was far down the road ahead,
far down the road and free.

Following on behind,
you were moving
much closer to me.

You were far closer up than I knew.
Now I consider more clearly
nothing about this is strange.

When the view is so wide and distorted
our impressions can often be wrong.
Things very rapidly change.

All that you see behind you
may not be distant, but near.

Things from the past still affect us.
They creep up on us from the rear.

I thought I could go and forget you.
We were closer than we appeared.
Between glances, the gap had been filled.

Accident happen so fast.
We might have collided
or spun off the road,
or rolled.
One of us might have been killed.

This thought fills me with terror.
To leave you behind was an error.
We should travel in future together.
There’s no sense in having two cars.

Decay

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The autumn air is full of scents
as if to prove the truth and worth
of beauty in decay.
It lifts my flagging spirits up.
My sadness drains away.
Breathing deeply I inhale,
and exhale all my pain,
but then I journey on to home
and I am lost again.

I feel as though I cannot rise.
However much the sun may shine
it’s fractured through a screen of tears.

Like morning mists that softly fade
or shattered rainbows after rain,
love always disappears.

I seek it deep, inside my heart,
but doubt that I can prise it out
and feel the fault is mine.

I hope and pray, and scream and shout,
that all may pass in time
or sleep will come and I forget
that you were ever nearly mine
while I still wanted more.

Love’s a torment.
Love is cruel
Love rips me to my core
and proves that I’m as much a fool
as I was before.

I dare not look ahead or back
for there’s no more of love in life
than loneliness or dread permits

and so i go
along the road,
the road that lies ahead,
on and on, the road ahead,
until the light is dead

At the Last

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

There are dark days ahead for us all.
Storm clouds hang close above.
I see how the stars, revealing the map,
have slowly extinguish your eyes.
The future seems something to dread
when your planets never align.

Come sit here a while, and rest.

The road has been long and you’re tired
and you lost many friends on the path.
You’re the last of the fruit of your family tree.
Yes. Finally. Yes. The last.
Every day it’s the same
empty house, old dreams, gathering dust,
you don’t trust anymore in the point of this game.
It would be so damned easy to quit.

Come sit here a while, and rest.

Look into the flames of this fire,
this fire that burns so bright,
red embers that glow in the night.
There are voices hovering near.
Loved ones are never lost.
They are one sidelong step out of sight.

Come sit by me here, in the light.

Old Love

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

there was no need of explanations

when all was accepted and understood

 

sunlight filled the clearing

a path of soft grass

lead through the wood

the rapids on the river

a source of delight,

exhilaration, excitement

the boat spinning and whirling

a reason for laughter

as we clung closer

what cared we for danger

when in evening we returned

to sit warmly wrapped

at the fireside, together

 

the paths have become hidden

overgrown with bramble and thorn

twisting back on themselves

the Prince in the fairytale

hacks with his sword

to find his way through

to the sleeping Princess

who waits alone, for a kiss,

only a kiss and a promise,

in stories he is never exhausted

you don’t hear tales of his scars

he always succeeds

what a miracle worker he is

what a wonder to behold

astride his white horse

shining in silver armour

despite the darkness

 

there is a path where the rich scent

of old fallen leaves fills the air

the banks of this path are cut deeply

amongst the roots of the ancient trees

they hold the path, embraced,

they are not there to trip us

but to keep the way open ahead

the road is old and worn