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.

In A Million Years

I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That you would come
And bring me flowers.

I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That there could be
A love like ours.

I would never have dreamed
In a million years
That we would meet
In body and mind.

I would never have dreamed
In a million years…
Is this dream real,
Are we entwined?

To Love Again

Emotional drought,
Thirst of the heart.
Hope dies, clouds gather
When there is no love.

Yet from those clouds
Rain is coming.
Let it wet your skin,
Be cleansed, love again.

 


 

Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.

Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer.

Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story now for just 99p/99c!

Coffee In Castillo Book

First Date

This is pointless
Such hope isn’t right

This is endless
Waiting for tonight

This is silly
Butterflies and fear

This is absurd
Choosing what to wear

This is foolish
Pretending he’ll be mine

This is crazy
I say it every time

The Child Inside

He called me
This morning,
Come out to play.
I’m lonely
And need a friend.

He called me
This morning.
The child within
Is lonely,
She wants to play.

He called me
This morning.
I let me go,
Allowed myself
To play outside.

He called me
This morning.
The child within,
Not lonely,
Has found a friend.

For the friend I have yet to meet.

His Folly

Cannot abide his folly,
Another promise broken.
Cannot abide his folly,
Alone to cry again.

How can a man be worthy
Of beauty, heart and soul?
How can a man be worthy
Of love and passion deep?

When you make your choice,
Remember what you did.
When you make your choice,
Don’t make me cry again.

For my muse, with love.

She Dreams

She dreams
As the sun sets behind them.
Warm wind teases her hair
As he pulls her close.

She dreams
Of how their lips will touch.
The growing heat
Of bodies pressing closer.

She dreams
But she walks alone.
Grey rain chills her face
But not her thoughts.

She dreams
That he will come to her,
Take her to another place.
That he will save her.


Take off with Abbey and fly with her into the sunlit world of Coffee In Castillo, the compelling new romance from Shona Silverman.

Indulge yourself in this dreamy, nimbly-paced page-turner where love and intrigue, hope and desire collide. Leave the chill rain of England behind and experience the exotic heat of the Spanish summer.

Follow Abbey in her quest for true love today. The sultry charm of a Spanish hideaway awaits you so be part of the story now for just 99p/99c!

Coffee In Castillo Book

The Day Before You Came

I must have made coffee
At half past eight that day,
Then read the news by nine o’clock,
The weather forecast too.
It surely rained as always,
The day before you came.

I must have breakfasted at ten o’clock
Washed flakes with cold, white milk.
At eleven pushed myself,
With exercise, weights or something else.
Played music, cleaned the house,
The day before you came.

At twelve or so, I just don’t know,
Perhaps I watched the rain.
After that I must have checked
The faces on a dating page.
Of course they never changed,
The day before you came.

I must have lunched at one o’clock
And lunch for one it was.
At two I cleared my paperwork,
I hate to fall behind.
All done and in its place,
The day before you came.

I must have started writing
At three o’clock or so.
This poem, maybe more,
I wrote of love of course.
I’d forgotten how it feels,
The day before you came.

At five o’clock or soon beyond,
I’m certain that my work was done.
I must have made my evening meal,
Nothing special, much the same.
Then watched TV an hour or two,
The day before you came.

I must have gone to bed at ten,
I never stay up late.
The only voice a spoken book,
Another chapter of the same.
And yes, I’m sure I felt a sense
Of living without aim.

The day before you came.


Inspired by The Day Before You Came © 1982 ABBA

You Don’t Get Lonely, Do You?

“You don’t get lonely, do you?” she asserts. I am dumbstruck, fumbling to put together a credible reply. She’s a close friend, we’ve known each other for years. Perhaps that’s the problem. I believed we knew each other well but she is simply wrong, so wrong. If she really believes what she is saying then she does not “know” me at all.

Of course I get lonely sometimes, we all do. So lonely it burns. That she can’t perceive this astonishes me, but then I ask myself why. Is it something in her, perhaps a lack of insight or empathy? Or is it me? Maybe I hide things well, even if I am not consciously aware of doing it. It makes some kind of sense to keep one’s innermost fears and secrets hidden behind a facade. We all have things that we feel shame about and we don’t like to be judged upon them.

There’s something else I must tell you about. Jealousy. There is something in her tone of voice that gives it away, a bitterness, a hint of resentment that colours her words. It’s as if she is saying “You don’t get lonely, do you? I do. It’s not fair.”

There’s no time to go off on an “it’s not fair” tangent. She’s still waiting for my reply. “I do get lonely sometimes,” I admit, “but I like to spend some time alone too.” It is the best that I can do. A pathetic little admission, followed up with an even more pitiful attempt to rationalise it.

Does she know me? Do I know me? I used to think so… now I’m not so sure.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

Single Beds

The cicadas chirped
As evening cooled.
In single beds we called
“Come here.”
Together we dreamed,
Our ways entwined.

Cicadas still chirp
As evening cools.
In single beds we call
“Goodnight, dear”
And turn over to dream
Our separate ways.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

On Our Honeymoon

On our honeymoon
We took a pedalo
Across the water,
Pedalling together
In time and in love.

I stand on the beach
And watch a pedalo
Across the water,
They move together
In time and in love.

He turns to her
Then laughter comes
Across the water,
Lapping cold at my feet
And I am alone.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

Waiting For You

Restless in body and restless in mind,
Waiting to hear words from you.

I know why it happened and what I did wrong,
Jumped in, defences too few.

Addiction was fast and I did not resist,
Withdrawal a cruel retreat.

Uncaring, heartless, you think you are strong,
Silence reflects your conceit.

Walking to wash out your drug from my head,
Waiting to hear words from you.

I Look For You

I look for you, where are you now?
I seek your face, repeat your name.
Intelligent, a man with flair,
With skilful touch but selfish game.

A handsome face that let me down.
I can’t hate you, my fault I’m lonely
A complex man, so special, rare.
You’re still my favourite “if only”.

I Was Ready

You’re gone and yet still here,
Infusing my thoughts.

You’re silent and yet you speak,
Leaving my goodbye unanswered.

You’re gone and yet I see you,
A face of sorrow, one single tear.

You’re strong and yet too weak
To change your ways for me.

You’re gone and yet unknowing,
I was ready to say I love you.

Looking for inspiration? That’s what your muse is for!

Tonight He Broke My Heart

He broke my heart. No, he did not.
I was the one who let him do it.

He asks me to stay. I want to go.
I am the one who is hurt.

It could be different. So wonderful.
But instead it burns inside.

I let him come in. Let him get close.
Allowed him to hurt me.

My eyes burn. Heart of pain.
My head says run away.

No promises from him. No matter.
Even his words cannot be trusted.

I wait for night to come. To pass.
To sleep away my goodbye.

The night comes. With the tears.
Thoughts of the man who does not care.

What is next? What should I do?
The same thoughts again and again.

I let him come in. Let him get close.
This mess is of my making.

Armour on. Defences up.
This will never happen again.

Lesson learnt. Smarter now.
But tonight he broke my heart.

Words from the heart of my muse.

Enwrapped In Love

I step from the shower and he is there, watching.
Smiling inside as fragrant water drips,
I wiggle just a little bit as if to shake it off
And turn around, bending for the towel.

He exhales noisily and I pretend not to hear,
Still smiling inside I turn to face him.
Now the towel is around my shoulders,
It moves over me and he is spellbound.

I wrap my breasts from view, his gaze lowers.
The towel follows it down, his mouth is open.
Oh what power I wield with the flick of cloth!
I lift it to dry my hair, he rises to my command.

The towel is around me again, he steps forward.
Face lowered, my eyelash gaze speaks silently.
I feel strong arms around my shoulders,
He kisses my face, his hands explore.

I press against him, hot inside the towel.
His lips are on my neck, I gasp at his power!
The towels falls softly away
And I am enwrapped in his love.

I Lied

I lied.

Lied to myself
When I said he loved me.

Lied to the world
When I said I was happy.

Lied to my diary
When I said it was good.

Lied to my heart
When I said it was right.

Lied to my soul
When I said he was mine.

Lied to him too
When I said I loved him.

I lied.

Two Years Of Love

ONE

I hold my glass,
Sitting on the bench.

A review of the important things:
Lovers, conflicts, mistakes, regrets.

It’s summer solstice, the longest day.
Last year I had hope.

I lift my glass
And realise this is the low point.

TWO

I hold my glass,
Sitting on the bench.

A review of the important things:
Lovers, friends, success, satisfaction.

It’s summer solstice again.
Last year I had no hope.

I lift my glass
And realise that my life is good.

Meet Me At The Tea Shop

Meet me at the tea shop
Where you stand and choose
From endless rows of exquisites,
Things that they call tea.

You couldn’t dream the brews they do,
Hot or iced for twice the choice.
Fruits and herbs, vanilla too,
Blended in unexpected harmony.

We sit together at the back,
Exchanging gossip, glasses raised.
One hot, one iced and both delights,
Things that they call tea.

We talk about the things we love,
Our different worlds connected.
One hot, one iced and both delights,
Friends in unexpected harmony.

Arthur Is My Cat

A poem for kids and grown-ups too.

Arthur is his name,
Endless cheer his game.
His smile is very wide,
It warms me up inside.

Each day when I get up
He’s waiting with his cup.
It overflows with joy,
There’s no more cheerful boy.

I’ve coffee in my mug,
He’s waiting for a hug.
I drink until it’s gone,
While smiling he looks on.

The only mouse
That’s in my house
Sits by him near,
Mouse without fear.

His eyes are small,
His tail is tall.
He looks at you,
You must smile too.

More I could write,
No end in sight.
But dreadful verse
Is best kept terse.

Arthur is my cat,
And that’s the end
Of that.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

A New Chapter

Inspired by a scene from Coffee In Castillo

Back on the street side,
Into sunlight’s warm caress.
At once feeling unhurried,
Time to have coffee.

Round tables in a little café,
Hugging under bright umbrellas
That flap and fuss
In hazed summer breeze.

This Spanish afternoon
Is late, with empty chairs
Except one man.
She hadn’t noticed him.

Her eyes compelled.
Lifting a cup to drink
He moves, a subtle glance.
Does he see her?

Looking down she hides,
Demurely watches his hands.
One holds an open book,
The other finds a slim cigar.

He turns to face her,
Sunglasses lifted.
Intelligent eyes light
A well-tanned face.

He says hello.
Embarrassed gasp,
Her reply fumbles
An apology, brushed aside.

His smile disarms,
She sits with him.
Small talk starts
A new chapter.

She’s Beautiful

She’s beautiful
But he can’t see.

Soulful eyes,
Her face delight.
Honeyed voice
Of caramel.

Confident yet sensitive,
Knows her mind
And stands her ground.
I can see she’s beautiful.

He sees her eyes
But not her soul,
Hears her words
In monotone.

He’s brazen and insensitive,
Can’t know her mind
Or share her world.
Unfulfilled she waits.

He takes her when
He’s minded to,
Neglects her love
In days between.

She’s beautiful
But he can’t see.

Connected

I take his hand, pull him close,
Hug him, ask for more.

I’m feeling very huggy today,
I tell him and his eyes smile.

I have to go now, he says,
You can have lots of hugs later.

His hand slips from mine,
Yet we are still connected.

The Wind Blows

The wind blows over England.

Clouds, dark, threaten the land.
Rain falls, the people hide.

The wind blows over England.

Clouds part, tear open ragged blue.
Sun warms, the people smile.

The wind blows over my world.

Clouds, dark, threaten me.
Rain falls, miserable I hide.

The wind blows over my world.

Clouds part, tear open lighting me.
Love comes, I smile again.

I’m Going For A Walk, He Said

I’m going for a walk, he said.

The usual route? I asked.
I don’t know, but probably.
Thank you, see you soon.

What did he thank me for?
Sharing my home, a place for him,
A refuge when he’s lost.

He shares my home but not my bed,
Breaks away from my embrace.
I am the fool, I am the clown.

I guess he’s halfway round by now.
Walking through the woods,
Listing all my faults aloud.

Do I really want him back,
For loveless hugs and soulless chat?
Perhaps he won’t return this time.

I’m going for a walk, he said.

Rambling, twisted and tortuous thoughts,
painful to think, tough to read.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

You’ll Come To Me

I need something to focus on,
In the future, not too long.
I dream of love, wait for the one
To keep me going, make me strong.

The precious years are passing me,
But I’m not wishing time away.
I live alone, no-one to see,
I could just book a holiday.

Imagine two weeks in the sun,
I’ll write it in my diary.
Beach and pool with night-time fun,
Perhaps by then you’ll come to me.

He Waits For Me

I watch TV, he waits for me.
I want to be back there.

I send a message on my phone,
I might be coming round.

I can’t be sure, I have to wait,
Is that ok with you?

Of course it is, he lies barefaced,
Come over when you can.

I hate to keep him holding on,
It’s such a silly game.

I wish the demons wouldn’t fight
A war waged in my head.

They tie me down with ropes unseen,
He must not see my shame.

I watch TV at night and wait
To go back there again.

A companion piece to Waiting For Him.

Waiting For Him

I watch TV and wait for him,
Maybe he’ll come tonight.

The actors move and speak in turn,
It’s clean and tidy, no mistakes.

A message on my phone tells me
He might be coming round.

He can’t be sure, he has to wait,
Is that ok with me?

Of course it is, I lie barefaced,
Come over when you can.

Real life is never clean and tidy,
No-one waits in turn.

It’s messy and confusing,
I am powerless in this game.

So I just watch TV at night
And wait for him to come.

A companion piece to He Waits For Me.

 

Time To Reflect

Allow yourself time to reflect,
A chance to review your world.

It doesn’t matter where you are,
Or who might be watching.

They cannot hear your thoughts,
Or perceive your desires.

No-one is a mind-reader,
Despite what they might wish.

On the train the world slips past,
It passes by your window.

Life is your journey,
A dream passing before your eyes.

Remember as you travel
The ones you love, the ones you lost.

Allow yourself a chance,
While there’s still time to reflect.

The Tale Of The Odd-Legged Goat

She once heard that the mountain goat
Has longer legs on left or right.
To make life easy on the slope,
It isn’t true, not even might.

She also heard it’s winter time
When flu attacks and weakens you.
Although she fell for that old line,
Odd-legged goats are just as true.

Listless, fevered, feeling blue,
Headache matched by her sore throat.
She now believes in summer flu,
But not odd legs on some old goat.

Your Perfect Lover

Imagine your perfect lover.

Let’s start with the basics, shall we?
Height first. Let me guess… taller than you.
Dark skin. Mmm, that’s always romantic.
Picture his body, make it as you like.

Now look up into his eyes.
Are they green, brown or blue?
You are the conjurer, creating your fantasy.
Colour his hair, hear his voice, smell his skin.

Your shopping list is complete.
Tonight he walks into your life.
Taller than you, dark skin, just like your dream.
You imagined this man and now he’s here.

Talk to him, watch him, feel him.
Now tell me, is he really what you want?
Doubt creeps in, the fantasy fades.
I think you forgot some things.

You never said he should be intelligent,
A practical man, caring and creative.
Confident, sensitive and considerate.
It’s time to start again.

Now imagine your perfect lover.

Affection Rejection

Affection rejection.
How I wish I could read his mind.
Why does he love me for a week
Then turn away, rejecting affection?

Daring caring.
I hug him and I pull him close,
Caress his shoulders, kiss his cheek.
To win him back I dare to care.

Passion ration.
If I could understand his ways,
Regain his trust, find what I seek.
Enough now of rationing passion.

Wear despair.
I lay myself out in front of him
He looks away, rejection bleak.
Dressed again, I am wearing despair.

Mourn forlorn.
I reason it’s his changing moods
But it’s my fault, I am too weak.
Forlorn of hope, I mourn.

Hiding Place

He walks ahead,
My pace too slow.

Rising track
From forest dark.

Bird song lines
A sandy way.

Drained, fatigued,
The gap grows more.

Hedges bind
A hiding place.

Waiting there,
His eyes love me.

A Hint Of Summer

This morning brought
A hint of summer,
Scented on the breeze.

With shadows soft
And milky clouds,
I thought it just a tease.

This afternoon
A yellow ship
Sailed high above my head.

With shameless lies
It burned my skin,
How I had been misled!

Just a bit of fun on a surprisingly hot day in England!

Fuerteventura Wind

I run my fingers over grey bones,
Trace out skeletons that never lived.
I lift the paper’s yellowed edge,
It’s last month’s news.
My nails, dirty, broken, peel the paint
From sunburnt cars that no-one wants.
My world is black rocks and broken roads,
You will leave and I won’t care.

Image: Abandoned Construction Project, Fuerteventura.
Copyright © Shona Silverman 2014.

This Is You

Stubborn life, poverty rooted
In crumbling rock and sand.
Fierce and thorny to survive,
Waiting for the rain.

Love comes, thorns do not defend.
Beauty flowers, blushing pink
In ephemeral, fleeting delight.
Revel now, for this is you.

Rain Of The Heart

Merciless drought, cruel, uncaring
Drying, dying, despairing

An unforeseen downpour of rain
Rescued from drought once again

Rescue will come with a start
Love is the rain of the heart

I hope you enjoy the many subtle connections made here.
Even I had to read through it several times to see them all – and I wrote it!
Shona.

His Heart Is Her Haven

She holds him at midnight.
Suffused in love,
Drifting into sleep.

Drifting into sleep,
Safe in the harbour
Of his protection.

The day is no longer young.
From a dream she awakes,
Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed,
He’s still there.
His heart is her haven.

Valium And Vodka

She’s crying at midnight.
Sick with loss,
Crying for sleep.

Crying for sleep,
The only way out
Is valium and vodka.

The day is no longer young.
Sick with tears she awakes,
Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed
And all that’s left
Is valium and vodka.

Let Me Show You Something

Sorry it’s rather dark in here.
I’ve opened the curtains
But it’s always raining.

What’s that you tell me?
You remember this place.
Hasn’t changed much, has it?

No, things don’t change,
They just fade a little
And the loss remains.

You can’t change anything here.
Leave the door ajar, visit any time.
This room is your past.

 

It’s brighter in here.
See, hear, touch.
Details fill your senses.

What’s that you ask me?
Of course you can move things,
You are in control here.

Change what you like.
Choose new colours
For your pleasure, your delight.

This is where you live.
Leave both doors open.
This room is your present.

 

Be careful where you step,
There could be anything here
And I don’t want you to get hurt.

Why are you surprised?
Everything keeps moving
and you haven’t touched a thing.

This is hope, anticipation.
A dream where you decide
What will happen next.

Open the curtains,
Dawn is breaking.
This room is your future.

Retail Therapy

I’m feeling down,
What should I do?
I’ll buy something
In pink or blue.

I’ve got more shoes
Than I can wear,
And lingerie
Bought for a dare.

Something for me
When I’m alone…
I know, I’ll get
A nice pink phone!

Have you got a purple dog?

Have you got a purple dog
To cheer you when you’re down?
Big and soft and full of beans,
He’ll wipe away your frown.

He rarely barks and only bites
When taken by surprise.
He’s caring and protecting too
And infinitely wise.

His watchful eyes see everything,
He follows you around.
You really need a purple dog
To cheer you when you’re down.

Just a bit of fun for this post – hope you enjoy it!  Shona x

You Think It’s Over

You think it’s over
But you’re wrong.
Your eyes light up,
You are still strong.

Your brilliant mind
Is still alive.
Don’t waste your years,
Recall that drive.

I see your light
And know you’re strong.
You think it’s over
But you’re wrong.

 

With gratitude to my muse,  whose love and light sustain me.

For A Moment

The clouds parted for a moment.
Sunlight through the window,
Hope swept across my world.

The clouds parted for a moment.
Laughter lit his eyes,
His smile called my heart.

The clouds parted for a moment.

 

 

Your Love Story

You’re looking for someone
Who sees within,
Doesn’t care about your past
Or how thin you wish you were.

Love doesn’t care about those things.
It sees within,
Finds dreams in your eyes
And feels the warmth of your skin.

Remember The Good Times

Remember the good times.

He came to haunt this morning
And I cried for all the pain.
The fall-outs and fights,
Lies and deceits.

He loved me a lot.
I kept all his gifts,
Not just jewellery and clothes
But memories too.

Laughing as one in strange countries,
Cicadas by the window as we slept.
Creating precious children
Whose voices I still hear.

Remember the good times.

 

 

Green and Blue

A dream, green and blue,
of waves kissing the shore.
Warm breeze-tousled hair,
fingertips touching my face.

I loved him and he loved me,
his jade eyes searching, knowing.
I was happy for a little while
in my dream of green and blue.

 

 

 

What is he thinking?

What is he thinking
behind dark eyes?
You know him well,
or so you believe.

Last time, puzzled,
you dared to ask.
Do you love me?
No reply, of course.

Stop wondering
about his thoughts.
They are just words
you need not know.

Watch him move,
see what he does.
It doesn’t matter much
what he is thinking.