Not Lost in France
Poetry
Contemplation.
I know that
you are
there
hiding behind
a smile,
a fleeting look
a shared word,
a coffee,
growing cold
on
a
pavement café.
I know that
our paths
have
yet to cross
the signal yet
to turn to green
but I know that
you are there
innocent
as one
can be
time and tide
having drawn
lines
on our world
worn faces.
In a crowd, behind
an unopened
door
In a dream
before daylight brings
remorseful wakening.
leaving that look
that said
yes
to my every
desire,
the hand that
touched my
soul
before my
aching body.
wrapped in
quiet solitude
I
contemplate
what
will
never
be.
Final Countdown.
Cotton fibres
stretching
through
to
bared skin
and
bruised knees
as hungry eyes
search the
depths
where crabs hide
under
starfish skies
Watching the sea
rolling it’s dark
green
and
blue way
to other
lands
Wishing himself
back to other
shores
before time’s
brittle hands
wrapped
cold comfort
around
his frail
outline
Northern winds
pressing him
toward
the vision of
an opened door
that shed
no welcome
a cold
stark moon
lighting
the
way.
Dave English.
Supermarket Smile.
Saturday, mixing
with
the others,
She left me
to stroll.
Meandering through
the regards
of the harassed
and the
hurrying,
green eyes
caught
my attention
Blonde hair
tied strictly
back
the smile
that brought
pleasure and pain
from a past
I’d thought
forgotten.
Time had not
dared to stop
our hearts beating
faltering words
stumbled through
"heavily stilled" air .
Hopes as
tangled as
our caddies
shadowed
by day to day
partners
settling upon us.
The supermarket
smile
lost in the
Saturday
crowd
we followed
the ebb
and the flow,
regaining
silent islands
hands
joined
to
another’s
destiny.
David English © June 15th 2001
A Word or Two.
Tearing the words
from a damaged heart,
spreading them on
yet unstained
paper,
leaving an impression
of past lives,
past loves,
lost in the
meanders of time.
Then, turning the
pages, slower now than
before.
Taking our time,
discovering
other paths, other loves
before we reach, the last
word of the
final sentence
of our
final
chapter.
Dave English © April 2004.
Sliver.
With
shadows
blinding
his way,
thoughts
step darkly from
within.
Trapped by
the
passage of time,
caught in
deepest
memories corners,
a
soulful cry
for
release
struggled through
the haze
of unspoken words
and
hidden
truths, that
barred
the way.
Erring
in
tear filled
silence,
the child
followed the
sliver
of
light that
cut through
a slightly opened
door,
bringing
hope
of brighter days
to his
violated
despair!
David.English © July 16th 2002.
For Bea.
Ask her to smile
she smiles,
a child’s smile, innocent.
To dance
she dances,
throwing her arms and body
around to unheard music.
To love, oh ! how she can love,
she loves with all
of her heart, despite the way
It’s been fixed.
To hate,
she hates
perhaps more
than others
can hate.
I know her
reasons, it’s the
silence !
Prisoner
of her other
Identity
She acts out her
life
pretending
normality
and crying quietly
at the indifference
that surrounds her.
She just wanted
to be herself
but the
other
identity
got in
the
way.
Dave English © April 2004.
Complice.
I don’t know
how it happened
that
supermarket caddy
accident
but it did.
Shopping for
our
husbands and kids
your smile
betraying our
secret complicity
picking
through scattered
Cornflakes and womans
fragility.
Your hand touching
mine
laughter
a coffee
accepted
Sunshine in our
hearts.
Outside the
rain.
I don’t know
how it happened
but when I see
the
smile
in your eyes
I’m glad
it
did.
Dave English (c) May 2004.
