Long Legs

Striding over fleeting years,
The earth under my feet
Rotates so fast I trip and fall
And graze my hands and knees.

My legs are growing longer,
The years are getting short.
I don’t know how to stop this ride,
This speeding juggernaught.

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For Those Five Years

A Spanish town, white, warm and blue,
A tourist street with gentle crest.
I’ll walk that street and look for them,
My pretty wife and lovely sons.
I’ll reach the top and find my world
Or maybe it will find me first.

They’ll say “Where have you been, Daddy?”
And “we’ve looked everywhere for you.”
I’ll make excuses, reassure,
With “I was in that shop” I’ll smile.
The nightmare done, I’ll go with them
And no more years in exile live.

In that same place I’ll wake at last
With all my loss and pain redeemed.
My pretty wife, my lovely sons,
The precious house my Daddy loved.
My health, my hope, my job, my world,
Returned to me as they should be.

And so I walked along that street,
The sun and shadows followed too.
Cresting the rise, she was not there
And no brave sons came seeking me.
Five years of loss and pain were real,
To turn and with the shadows take.

I lost my world that day and cried,
Only the shadows knew my pain.
I did not tell about it then,
Nor shall I speak it ever now.
The loss is mine alone to bear
For those five years and many more.

A guest post by Henry Isaacs, author of Around The Red Rock

Friend

For lunch today
I see my friend.
We eat and talk
And don’t pretend.

Review our lives,
Discuss our fears.
We laugh and then
Maybe some tears.

I like his shirt,
He loves my hair.
The cake arrives,
We smile and share.

Each secret aired,
Unspoken trust.
Though intimate,
It’s love not lust.

No fear of hurt,
Or need to hide.
A chance to talk
Of fears inside.

Don’t live your life
In solitude.
You need a friend
Like mine, with food.

Upon The Fell

You turn my thoughts
Into a whirl
Of senseless words
That dance and curl.

Each morning when
I rise from bed
This foolish dance
Trips in my head.

Words take their partners,
Dance a waltz.
What purpose serves
This unasked schmaltz?

And thus love takes
Its unkind toll.
It steals my heart
And tears my soul.

I must break free,
Be roused from verse
And find the way
To break this curse.

A ride far North
To your fair land,
Upon the fell
I’ll take your hand.

A quick poem, with the simplest metre and rhyme.
Inspired by love and archaic verse.