Dust Plains of Forbidden Planets

 

Little wisps and waves

Of incomprehensible light

Their tiny specks swishing past

Coiling like copper solenoids

Twisted matter swooping round and back

Sparking interstellar trails

Gliding in momentary flight

These parallel trains of air and light

Drifting in the dark only occasionally

Blossoming unexpectedly

Revolving their diffused colours

Of multi-layered cloud spray

Onwards through space

 

To flow and mingle with the cosmic dust

Its larger particles pushing against surface gravity

And cascading into willowy plumes

Of refracted prismic rays

Whilst attracting magnetic forces pull closer

And exert vast field lines of tension

Colliding and pushing ever onwards

Towards hidden crevices of galactic chimney stacks

Perpendicular to their neighbours

Yet forever to be set poles apart

Until that instant, that bang

When the stars and worlds implode one by one

As all begins again

 

Copyright ©15/11/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Telling Tales

To the imagination of every the reader

I am simply a friendly word feeder

Spilling out my tales in concise review

Sending people on journeys, enticing and new

Telling my tales and planting my seeds

Giving them hidden character leads

Pointing them in the right direction

To my world on their page that is free for inspection

Copyright ©28/10/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Hibernation

Hibernation of the sun, wintering and in its night-time shade

Only rearing its head when forced or pulled out

Up, into its orbital arc of arching skyline to heat the lands cold furnace

But for now it is thickened fog that whirls, spinning pools

All waspish dust cloud blending with the glass spikes of silvered grass

Through the mirrored finished lakes of grey ashen rain

 

Frost which catches the lightly splintered hands of the tree beech

They reach down from the skylines over open concrete pastures

The bogeymen, waiting for their chance to fright

Whipping down lightening rods from behind their boughs

Crashing down on hunched figures, huddled, sheltering below

Unsuspecting, these giant urban monsters cast shadows

Their menacing looming blackness that stretches out

Like black holes sleeted by disappearing hailstones

Cosmically star-like, driven into that other universe

All planetary dust

 

Now the skittering sun slides from path to trunk to bank

Whilst its eclipsed crimson mask slips from view

It becomes lost in the limitless grey places

Blocked out by the statuesque bold towers, hell raised to heavens eye

The entrapped rouge ball of light refracts its prismatic trails

Right across the glinting fractured lenses of mirrored reptilian beanstalks

All is emblazoned glass and fiery metal

Even the nooks and ledges for the sheltering wintering crows

 

Blacker than the howling winds and quickening thunder claps

That drags in the pitted pewter platter of the moon

Now enthroning the candied cabochon of sun

To eat it whole like a celestial winter apple

Whose pips where spat out into the galaxy, to revolve

All dazzling in perfect frosted striations

Lighting the way home for those that seek a safe haven

Settled in cosy hibernation until the suns return

 

Copyright ©01/11/2009 Beth Stratton

Devon

Devon loam of planted seedlings and wild ponies

Where upon, I look out across rich orchards and heath

To moorland, pasture and tiled flatland

Surveying from this craggy hilltop the valleys

Cradling like a caddy my womb-like shelter

Where I, like rich bracken and tough bramble

Can be nurtured by this unsullied landscape of my dreams

 

Copyright ©01/11/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Suitcases

Suitcases, ribbed cages, closets

Protectorates of folded life span

Unpacked piece by piece

Stretched out, contorted

All seams of connectedness

It is the case that holds all!

 

Contained within is only part-formed

Holding mirrored sides to subtle invention

As we see its strength

We also sense its masquerade

Encased as others view its limitations

Not yet fully framed

The shell that compacts us

Holds us safe

But lets no-one in or out.

 

Copyright ©01/11/2009 Beth Stratton

Cartography

Where is the rootedness of such a soil as this?

That saw a foot so solidly planted

Each tread set down over drills and lay lines

Clay ripples of latitudinal certainty

Firm, weighted, trusted furrows

 

The mud-spattered sole traipses forth

Sinking into age old depravity and new found freshness

In peat soaked bog, black as charcoal

Feeling only warmth between its toes

 

The cold healed stone-based thuds

Leave impressions supplanted over and over

Freshly filling with watery ground swell

Dampness rising with each step on brethren land

 

These broken cracked fields and trenches of old

Every inch trod down, flattened with such surefootedness

The memory knows the way, no forging of new earth

Simply a re-tilling and re-mapping of the pathways

All hidden once, by time and history

 

Copyright ©01/11/2009 Beth Stratton

 

My Friend

Where did you begin and me end?

Together we were a circle

My friend

So when I found a thing 

I always thought of you

And the things that I did

Were the kinda things you’d do

I dreamt of spring

And I know you did too

 

Copyright ©28/10/2009 Beth Stratton

Travelling light

The same one – I am taken out of my body’s bag

Placed on the bed in a new space, but same land

The me that was, newly cloned, primed to reproduce

But age already creeps into the eyes, their dual solitary pits

Whose wonder went by with a repeated flick of switch

And figurative death of self

 

The absence of child makes reproduction of self even more necessary

But impotent in a world which boxes you in, steadfast, tight

Categorises each part of the whole repeatedly

As new packaging, not solid in your space

A flimsy body reformed, reconsidered as fresh cuts

Merely facets of an old stone defence

 

In truth, the part that was me, is not the one of now

Although set down in this wide landscape

The view is limited by expectation, not anticipation

And the consorts and companions who knew you of old

Are now exchanged for bed : walls, space, time and rest

All that’s needed as you lie still, composed

Primed and re-primed for new adventures

Remembering somewhere in the back of your mind

That fresh journeys can only begin when travelling light

 

Copyright ©13/09/2009 Beth Stratton

Futuristic Dreaming

Where is our wilful lust for life, if not in our dreams?

The future laid out in visionary ideals

Our hidden desires occluded in veils of hope and sleep

Always they are there for us to stumble on

As yet lying undiscovered until now

 

Is conscious thought, life, to which our dreams are privy?

The trailers they send into view real?

The newly created pathways they form seem real enough to me

Offering as they do a photographic modern advancement of self

Thought by thought, dream by dream

 

But only the core of our mind knows it all

Only it knows when to unfold our inner thoughts

Being the key to our survival

Our minds will always protect us from life

As well as showing us its beauty

 

Our brains un-burden us, preventing us seeing the whole view

Life the universe and everything, as were told

Yet our dreams pose so many questions

With the answers secreted, safe in their deep depositories

Dreams and thoughts will always inspire us

But, remember thoughts can ruin us too

So only little by little they flood though

Softly and wistfully provoking us to be

 

Only when we are truly ready for the next stage

Just as bodies mutate to further our advancement

Will the core of our being let us see what we can cope with

Always it starts with our dreams – In our mind’s eye

The telescopic sparks of life, in synaptic pictorial view

Burst into life through our meaningful thoughts

Creating the futuristic movies of our souls re-enactment

　

Copyright ©10/09/2009 Beth Stratton

Unblocking

Words catapulted onto the pristine blankness of the page

Which were once congested deep in my throat

Are no longer congealed or solidly bound

I know my own mind, I’ve found my voice

Not in speech, do I expound this bloody tenet

My tone too angry to wail out loud

The textualised expression of my inner thought

It’s bitter splatters, still born thrust out

Disconnected anguish drains its scrawling mass

My rhetoric machine-gunned lines of bile

No poetic soporific lulls of sound here

But, clattering spat out heaps of broken verse

Pages black with distastefulness

Spited freezing fur balls of letters and phrases

Dripping from my gappen mouth of thought

Salivary, spidery lines seeping out

Inevitably swamping the white clean paper

With red heat, purple brays and the blackest ink

No longer, my trapped aggressive will enchained within

The desire to blow my conscious mind, set me in motion

Unblocking my emotional need to bleed words

 

Copyright ©03/09/2009 Beth Stratton

Strong and High

The walls that hold your secrets are trapped inside the light

They oscillate and captivate

Significant and bright

Against the sun

Yet always dark as night

But you know…

Time is never easy

Space is never there

Knives are ever turning

Keys are always spare

Hearts are meant to be broken

Myths are simply a lie

Block out all empty promises

And always let them die

The walls that hold your secrets will keep them from their flight

They vacillate and tolerate

Significant and right

Beyond the stars

But always held real tight

But you know…

Wind is chill in autumn

Roads are far and wide

Whirlpools keep on spinning

Land’s often set aside

Hearts are always travelling

Waste was not to care

Glitter balls are twinkling

Whilst hope is always there

The walls that hold your secrets are sometimes past your height

They make you wait and fluctuate

Magnificent, yet slight

Far out of reach

Yet, safe from might

But you know…

Life is never eternal

A person is always a whole

Infinities a ‘you’ and ‘me’ circle

That crosses at the point of your soul

Perspectives are constantly changing

Whilst time maps the point of our place

But the walls keep us safe from all danger

These secrets our journeys embrace

 

Copyright ©20/08/2009 Beth Stratton

Moths – The Spiders Wistful Interlopers

In the taut redness nests a spidery blackness

Nested, hunched with legs curled, watching

Trapped under cover of embroiled rouge half-light

These flamed moths: Spies in holes of yellow dawn

 

Creeping away to an enclave of skirted cracks

Observed disconsolately from handcrafted corner

Beady eyed, prickling hairs feeling and sensing

Oh, these heretics that spread nought but dust!

 

Yet, lit sparks in the furnace flit disconnected

Luminous twitches, overhead, vibrations spin out

Open flutters of staged innocence in virginal flight

Angelic mimics, sky nymphs at mocking play

 

Left to spread out like a great dynasty migrating

Their kingdom would engulf this solitary creature

Weighted in harmony, hanging with rippled echoes

But blackness will surround them yet, in a timeless fashion

 

As crimson skies can always offer an advantage

To the predatory darkness of the nestled one

Demons can only feed on silken horizons, cottoned clouds

Yet, hellfire flames can cripple crescent crested wings

 

Your wrapped and speckled light of winters thread

Tastes flesh, turning them over as your bobbin’s twist

Black arms lacing yellow knots within the skein

Dust carcasses scattering a lonely pattern over and over again

 

Copyright ©03/09/2009 Beth Stratton

Seeing Life Anew

 

Woke up early this morning

Sunlight shines in my head

Light so bright, everything right

It must have been something you said

The daylight it warns of an early dawn

Like birds flyin’ in overhead

Thought about times when we were young and free

About all the things you said

I see they were true

I’m simply seeing life anew

 

I drifted out in the garden

Passing time in my mind

The flowers red, nothing said

It must have been like days gone by

Tip-toeing round, on sodden ground

In memories tumbling free

I know that life’s no paradise

Yet it feels real groovy to me

So I thought about the time when our ideas

Where pictures flashing on every wall

Use to think I knew so much back then

But I had no clue at all what to do

Spending time with you.

 

So when you died

I was lost and tired

I’d think about you all the while

Moments running wild and free

Of when I’d seen you smile

Knowing that you were in paradise

Stopped me from goin’ insane

You told me once it was were you’d be

When all life’s rivers had rain

And you were through

Feeling low and blue

 

And every day is a journey

It can be easy or hard

To relish it and to embrace it

That is the difficult part

To take a simple line in these modern times

Is easier said than is done

But with every step is another quest

Until the battles are won

A treasured soul, like a pot of gold

Isn’t something that everyone’s got

A little love goes a long long way

Whether we realise or not

When I’m missing you

Something pulls me through

 

So in the garden I captured

A glimpse of where you had gone

It’s better for those who take that journey

But what of them carryin’ on

With the many fears

I’ve had over these years

Thinking I’ll never see you again

But in the passage of time

I’ve come to realise

It’s simply just a matter of when

And in the mean time, you’re still alive

In everything that I say and do

This is so true

Simply being there with you.

 

Went to bed late this evening

Thinking of what I had seen

This life is merely a repeating pattern

Littered with wishes and schemes

I broke the silence with singing

The sound of a girl’s melody

Back in the wilds, when you were a child

And this was a comfort to me

The colours and sights, on lonely nights

When nothing is quite what it seems

I wish I were back in a safer place

My head just driftin’ with dreams

I’ll follow through

Seeing life anew

Copyright ©21/08/2009 Beth Stratton

String Theory

 Rosen across the bow, string caught by light

Like a flickering quickness

Moves past the full gaze of conducted attention

Suspended

Set to a note so fine and rarefied

That the broken sting squeals and shudders with delight

As the filtering fly line whips the watery divide

Between that which is known and seen

And that which is beyond all strings weaves and flow

Music

Voices

All is air

Resting in connectedness

Joined in colliding melodies

Sounds ripped from their gliding arc

In and out of their own subtle resonance

 

Copyright ©21/08/2009 Beth Stratton

A Watery Clinch

 

I’ll hold you, cling tightly to all your body

You will be my lifeboat

And I a needy passenger with no wish to bail

Let’s set sail

Float

Drift

Taken by our watery clinch

 

If I drown

You all alone

Would sink down to the depths

Like a stone

 

Together we can cross the rift

You will be my buoy

Yet, I cannot bear to see you worn away

Stop the wash of my constant tide

Let’s glide

Not drift

Hold fast

 

Copyright ©21/08/2009 Beth Stratton

Surfers Ballad

Wilder and wide the shallows flood the shore

With gaseous streams of yellowed gasping spumes

The surfer paddles out

To float and toss upon that temperate main

Which suddenly in turning light did wane

 

The surfer’s dragged, then dips and dives

Flash floods crash and rip the tide

Weaving past the wash

Ove’ jutted jagged rocks

Carried forward through froth and moss

 

Taken fast, against the momentary tide

To brake, plunge, wash; then slide

He grasps for hallowed jetties

Seeks out their grained and gory side

Slips his hands through feted silken slime

 

As gapen mouthed pulled down

To splutter out in diamond droplet spray

And rue that he went out that day

Taken far beneath with every rasping breath

His water-choked lungs pull, rasp

Drawing into him his death

 

Stretching for the surface, his battered body dashes

But he crashes, brakes and thrashes

As he slithers through the reef

Then is thrust by callous guttering spray

And crashed from open waters deep

 

Dropped upon the pebbled shorelines shield

His broken body tragically concealed

By wave and glassy hillock, seahorses plume

The sea that once his friend did yet consume

He’s buried now in those drifts of subtle grainy sands

That lies betwixt those death-defying struggles and dry land

 

Copyright ©21/08/2009 Beth Stratton

Journeying from London to the sea

 

The skyline jumps ‘neath paths that now lay trodden

With gathered tarnished leaves and rubbish sodden

By harbour walls and chains that cast with iron did pull

A glassy crack of ice splits light as faded rays now splinter

And trees in miles and rows bent forth with moon and laden winter

Was where we walked

 

The river turns for home grey with spoil, raised but yet defeated

Domes and cornices lit to reflect a quieter time completed

Horizons gathering winds that push towards the city centre

Concerted by sheer volume; where the concrete stages stilted

Rushing through and echoing the traffic’s tarmac by-line filter

Was where we hid

 

Consigned to twist and run from simple open spaces shining

Their construct bound in another time, yet centres naked pining

Footfalls heavy, tarmac ripples gather and then fall round statues

Arched abodes for conquering heroes gallant to remember

Like new ones cast adrift for now and left alone to wander

Was where we sat

 

Runways stacked with authors lit with writer’s wordy tombs

Lost in places yet more strange but not that hard to find

Spilt out on roads likes passages from deep within our minds

Told stories and read phrases of gifted insights, little signs

Stood silently by one another’s side and gave our breath

To stagnant air which gifted life and lifted death

Was were we laughed

 

Softer, yet delightful in repose, its brooding spectacle lays over

With tracks that wing a weary way to thunder

The bridge that takes things back beyond this time of thinking

To pavements wet with shadows, benches left alone to wonder

The depths of all we’ve known, but yet to plunder

Was where we thought

 

From concrete covered wooden floors and tables strewn with clutter

Coffee cups, cakes and books; their rhythm and their clatter

Introspective poems, songs and one child’s laughter

Mercifully delighted by the essence of the view

I was simply ‘me’ back then and you were simply ‘you’

Was where we lived

 

This love, this city, our momentary thought still long forever rooted

In all things known and taught my loneliness was tutored

The presence of this landscape with our broken bond in tatters

Is where we left our first hearts love behind; still beating?

With promises once strewn, your love abandoned now seems fleeting

Was were we fought

 

Dullness set the tone for people’s ordinary hum to follow

Buildings, empty office structures rattling and hollow

Left all reasoning behind, yet allowed me to move on

Closing doorways, seemingly defeated now have gone

Suddenly beyond all hope and in this wasteful debris

The question there was asked – ‘Do you still love me?’

Was were I found my heart anew

 

Moving back and forth like some unsettled hobo drifter

Wandering confused with each and every footstep littler

Nightfall leaves and dregs within the curbed streets to blow

In areas less travelled by the populace I shall observe

Footprints dwell, with no good reason the wanderers to swerve

Was where I came to rest

 

To suburb lines of crested brick and tilted hilltops nestling

My solitary wanderings, a wide expanse of vision resting

Where all of life is passing or safely sailing through

Surveying all the multitudes from peak on which I’m stationed

I seek the multiple possibilities and complex variation

Was were I came to stand

 

To pastures new I lead my mind to all that is connected

Like rills from flowing water; lifted and collected

Passing where the pieces now are scattered to remain

Rebuilding shelter, encircling sand filled coves, hung low

Cascading now the weary water reluctantly will flow

To where I live again

Copyright ©20/08/2009 Beth Stratton

The Tiger’s Child

I thought I saw the tiger’s child

With brilliant eyes that flash of fire

The one that rages day and night

With life and hope and more desire

Than any in this world could have

So always try to keep them close

Unleashed their powers are often brutal

To those they really love the most

 

I know that little tiger’s child

As others learned to spot them too

Their claws they dig so deep to flesh

To gouge at bone and stiff sinew

They try to keep emotions low

As running rampant they’ll do you harm

And cause such violent damage

With guile; and lethal loving charm

 

So if you see the tiger’s child

Try to pity, not judge their plight

As every threatened and unbridled creature

When feral, knows it has the right

To roam unguarded in the world

To snatch a hold on the pray it spies

And when taking hold of those it imprisons

It’s mercilessly cunning and terribly wise

 

I know you’ll see the tiger’s child

As fast within your sight it grows

To find that child’s not difficult

As each and every adult knows

You only have to glimpse them once

To let them cut you down to size

All the children on this earth possess

Those wiley glimmering tiger’s eyes

 

But can we tame the feral ones?

Guard them now and teach them well

Protect them in their majesty

Never break their precious spell

Let them beguile us whilst they may

Let them cling within our clutch

Show them care and they’ll repay

With every smile and look and touch

 

‘Cos if you raise a little tiger’s child

With all encompassing love and care

The tiger’s lore’s will be genuine

Of childish aspects you needn’t beware

But never let them take control

Just watch your wits and keep them close

It’s the children that are pussycats

Who sidle up; yet spit the most

 

Those tiger cubs within your lair

Will gaze through bright, yet wistful eyes

Like spears of light, they’ll prowl and bite

As they have such a sweet disguise

So try to out manoeuvre them

Don’t keep them separate or set apart

‘Cos if children aren’t reared wisely

They’ll find a way to wound your heart

 

Copyright ©20/08/2009 Beth Stratton

Card Games

 

He plays to win, six games lost, he scowls

The combinations stack up like the cards in his hand

But on screen it looks like a never-ending battleground

 

And the patterns like a maze, seem set to confuse

So he sits rigid in his chair as he contemplates

Then with the click, click, click of the mouse

He drags the block of graphics this way and that

 

He sings now, a ditty to pass the time

Whilst in his mind he connects each card to each card

Then a flurry of hand over hand, back and forth

Till the cards swish and mingle and recoil back to their pack

 

Another one won, but far too many lost before

But the odds may yet be stacked in his favour

So he plays another hand for luck

 

Copyright ©20/08/2009 Beth Stratton

Four Days -The Bridges Of Madison County

There are places where life goes

No man or woman living may now follow

Places where time and days seem hollow

Where memories take the breath of wind to gather

A glimpse that in your minds eye wanders

 

That fleeting place which on the landscapes drifting

Takes hold a feeling so remiss, yet sweetening

Catches heartfelt pleasures

Where views aren’t clouded by the sun

Plains and mountain where there once were none

 

There are places where life goes

Where bridges shelter rivers running shallow

And present time seems lost, so meek and fallow

Such long remembered glances once forbidden

In time become the essence of our being

 

The wistful gaze and snapshot quickly taken

Contained within that sheltered minute

Those pictured dreams that we were newly making

For this current time span, we have now forsaken

But the memories last a lifetime; there forever to remain

Where my heart is often said to drift

And where I lose it time and time again

 

Copyright ©20/08/2009 Beth Stratton

The Essence of Sharing

The ‘I’ that was ‘you’ taught me many things

Your reflection of tastes

Rippling out for me to dive into

And for me, you gave.

 

For the ‘us’ that was only part of our own entity

I, the half that was ignorant

Broke through the surface of brilliant thought

Fed on your knowledge

Soaked it up

Like simple sponge

For and of  itself, for its own sake

Such was my need to thrive.

 

We dove together, delving deeper

I, into the half of you

That laid yourself down

Still and calm

Bare and open for me to squander.

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Equal Intelligence

If everyone can be equally intelligent

Then how will differences be found?

Between those with excellent memories

Who really are profound

And those who struggle and flounder

Whose memories are abound

With far too much frustration

Boundless hesitation

Endless explanation

And very little renown

 

Copyright ©14/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Looking and Longing

He looked at me and I at him.

A sight augmented by beautiful movement.

Artificially sustained glimpses.

To feel young like a moment of time.

 

He captivated my gaze.

I saw him glance though that lighted window.

Affectionate and coy.

I watched him mouth a word.

 

Where is his reflection now?

It withers in the pane.

Draining down the sill, slipping from view

His outline gone.

 

I catch his sight no more.

His head was inclined

I watched it wither from view without a nod.

Not to be reflected like mine.

Not to be an image of self or whole.

 

Oh, to see him glance now.

As I long for his embrace.

For a mirrors view.

For a moment in time,

Where nothing else exists.

 

A touch of fingers on fingers.

How long I have looked.

Wished for his eyes to meet mine.

To touch, to burn though the glass.

 

His gestures imprinted images.

Yet, they grow old like ripples.

Opaque circling shapes are viewed in the pane.

None of them his.

 

Whirlpools of stained glass offer no salvation

Droplets of crystal tears form.

I cry tiny slithered splinters

Now he has passed.

 

Copyright ©20/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Thought Sailing

This day I want to be thought sailing.

I want to say I love you to those that matter.

I want to climb like the wind.

Move ahead and travel far.

 

I am but a speck on that wind.

But my thoughts are mighty.

When I see the beauty of each day,

I know that someone loves me.

If it is man, then so be it.

If you think its god then that is OK.

 

I won’t be afraid to speak.

Talk about the suffering in the world.

Children die each minute,

Yet, no one knows their name.

They are but forgotten souls,

But not to me.

 

Let us all be strong, be triumphant.

Will the leaders to act and matter.

Let them make a stand as I hope we do.

To stop and think about others.

Feel the knell of those less fortunate.

 

We must be compassionate and brave.

As to think, is to dream and to wish.

Bring hope to each unwilling thought.

Break all unyielding steps.

Open up the world to others.

Let the thought sailing begin for all.

 

Copyright ©18/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Lovers Slumber

As you lie curled in our bed, head down beneath the silken sheet
Toes tangled gently, sweet to sleep
I’ll caress the curves of your skin, and linger as it gently weeps
Soft perspiration down from the neap of your neck to your feet

And in that light, dimmed low, night drawn in so dark and deep
I’ll be safe within your reach
As you cuddle me so tightly and hold me fast within your keep
To guard those precious moments as we gently, freely fall asleep

Copyright ©16/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Ring O’ Mine

Ring of mine you are a perfect glow slipped as you are on my finger.

You reflect me as I look into your refracted curve and wonder.

Oh, as true an image as one can contemplate.

How durable and light you are just like my husbands heart.

A perfect ornament to my hand as he is to me.

His outer circling warmth, like your deep encircling marks.

You seeped in and stained my skin, as he melted and coloured my heart.

Permeating my outlying layers like my sweetheart’s touch within.

Creating, as you did a permanent, yet delicate reminder of love.

Pink when young and new.

Red when flushed, as I was burnished with excitement.

Brown like the earth when mellowed by the gentle caresses of time.

 

Ring of mine as you have become paled now by my constant stroking.

Just as life’s rubbing along has made the journey through my marriage smoother.

You have become a fading willow the wisp of light tilting in the suns rays.

As worn as you are now, like I am becoming with age.

I trace you around my finger as I would draw upon my beautiful man’s heart.

As I fondle your pitted band I think only of my deepest desire for him.

The glimmer of his eyes I see in the twinkling glint of your platinum band.

Your circular arrangement clasps me tight like the grip of my devoted one’s hand.

Yet, your incline has never borne a significant decoration, any scribe or signature of note.

Unlike the incline of my head when deep in thought, which is writ large with images of him.

 

Ring of mine I have only to look and you are a continuous reminder of my love.

And as my husband is the giver of memory-box keepsakes tied with a circlet of ribbon.

You are the counter of our time together as you click against my hand.

When I remove you and hold you up to the sunlight I see a different view.

Through your open aperture, I can see him protecting me, acting like you, as a talisman.

He orbits around me like a sheltering satellite swirling in like a coiled band of metal.

Just as solid as you are when you twirl freely on my slender finger.

You reflect the circular motion of my life as I gaze at him anew each day.

Memorising all my momentary impressions of him, as they revolve like loops in my head.

To indelibly absorb and cocoon all parts of him into my perfectly hollowed soul.

Fix my husband‘s rye smiles, sweet blushes, soft glimpses and moderate laugh.

Like you were fixed and melded to me on our wedding day.

 

Copyright ©14/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Coma Water’s

 

It’s a little quiet now

That the walls are closing in

The avenues are endless

But the pathways are too thin

I hope they find some answers

Before the water in my brain

Won’t allow me to go swimming

In it’s rivers ever again

 

 

There’s definitely something missing

A reception I can’t get

It’s a puzzle

These pictures

The pieces of the jigsaw

That go slipping through my net

 

 

The simple thoughts intended

Get lost somewhere within

Analysis is present

But my brain can’t reign it in

 

 

So I need to find an answer

And satiate my need

To eradicate all numbness

Stabilise, succeed

 

 

Can I awaken my subconscious?

Will I ever again understand?

The rhyme

All rhythms

And reasonings

That tells me who I am

 

 

I resent the loss of my feelings

But desires can yet be fulfilled

If I regain my ideas and emotions

Which my brain tossed about

And then spilled

 

 

That’s why I’ll keep going swimming

Through the empty pools of my mind

To recapture the essence of the person

Who is missing and no one can find

I hope to discover the answers

I know I’m not searching in vain

Never will I drown in the canyons

Of water that’s flooding my brain!

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

 

 

 

Betrayal

 

She sits in the dark

And cries soft tears

The silence is golden

No one can hear

She feels the place

Where his heart

Once a long time ago

Left its mark

 

She feels the emptiness

Not just in her mind

But somewhere so deep

Down inside her this time

What’s left is a wanting

A craving for love

But, whoever gives it

It’s never enough

What remains

Is a heartache

Only see can see

The barrier inside

From which she can not break free

 

Her baby, the shelter

This crazy life, he dealt her

An infant

A death

Its resting place

A myth

  

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Awakening The Sleep

 

Today I am comforted by warmth

I’m wrapped in feathery down

 

Eyes closed, yet listless 

Light shines through windows wide

Letting in breezes and willowy summers shine

With such multitudes of tones and hues in colourful arrays

Setting forth my imagination

As I watch the lights against the muslin blinds

So to sweep me into dreamland

As limbs, stretch, curl and unwind

 

The closeness in which I drift and let myself fall

Leaves me floating gently

So that I’m not aware at all

That I am drifting further, deeper

Swathed in cotton, bathed in heat

Setting shadows dancing with lily smells so sweet

And slowly sounds and music whirl and swell

Until, the slumbering shadows lull and haunt me

Move me gently whilst I creep

Over slinky pillow buttresses, with soft full mellow keeps

Which sweep me into dreamland

Till I am fast asleep

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Fire Bomb Runner

 

See wisdom smashed

Fire, heat and blast

Breaking up the sky

Catch the end of summer

Hear roars, of those who cry

The man runs on

Where does he need to go?

And what’s he running from

Does anybody know?

 

See meaning pass

Broken glass

Shattering in the dark

Life… echoes on in silences

The openness of landscapes stark

The man walks on

Why does he have to go?

And what’s he hiding from

Does anybody know?

 

See reasons crash

Oceans open vast

Glimmering close to shore

The man reflects his past life

And ponders on it all

Then he sails on

What does he hope to show?

And why’s his life all wrong

Does anybody know?

 

 The seasons last

With gun shots past

Ash and smoke erodes

The gracefulness of running

And peacefulness of those

That still look on

There time long gone

Now do we need to know?

 

Why was he there?

Where are they now?

When seasons come and go

 

 Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Fresh Breath On Grass

 

The grass I run my fingers through is cool and thin and green.

The corridors inside my head with nothing in between.

Logical progression is something I don’t have.

Rhapsody invokes me to pirouette and dance.

  

 

The melancholy feelings are bold and black and grey.

With pleasant desperation I simply slip away.

Enchanted by the moment, by the flutter of the breeze.

On quiet summer evenings I grab my chance to leave.

 

The grass that I am running through is wild and wet and lithe.

Fresh wind whips and binds me and separates the sky.

The whisperings inside me down the path contrives.

To revisit and revive me and keep my soul alive.

 

So…

 

 

The grass I move my body through is moist and cold and soft.

The way it feels around my skin.

Is cosseted and safe.

Logical acceptance is something I don’t need.

Reasoning cascades now.

And leaves me free to breath.

 

 Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

In bittersweet obscurity

In bittersweet obscurity

All your true imaginings

Kind and pure, like simple things

Were there…I know they were

 

But when I tried to seek them out

You hid within an abalone

From tiny specks of nacre grown

Were all your precious satin pearls

  

So I must prize your glittering shell

And lift you from your splintered case

To set you forth upon my frame

Lay you in your rightful place

 

 I’ll split the chain around my neck

For I’ll be safe when you unfurl

Because my faith in you is true

You’ll hang your muted pearls

  

To bask within your pure white proof

Cocooned within a lullaby

The naked kernel of my youth

Your easy, pleasing melody

 

Your layers translucent like the sun

Are all that I desire

Then I can witness for myself

Why you chose to shy from me

All your true imaginings

Like childhood vulnerability

So you will never hide again

In bitter sweet obscurity

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Love Making

 

Love’s not a game 

It’s just and illusion

Caught in the act

Trapped in confusion

Captured in form

Her soft skin entangled

His penis erect

With spine curved and angled

 

Love is not ‘SEX’

To her – that’s just a word

With sensual feelings

Soft screams are heard

Regular movements

Run rivers of heat

Her thighs are glistening

When lovemaking’s complete

 

Kissing with passion

Her light fingers massage

The bones of his body

Which shelter his heart

But he looks at her harshly

Then pulls them apart

He gets up to leave

With a grunt and a start

 

Yet, she smiles at him softly

She wants to believe

Can she steal a few more seconds?

A little reprieve

‘No’ he retorts

As she holds out her hand

To drag him back to her ‘promised’ land

Now he swings through the door

With a fastness of pace

Eager and willing to make quick his escape

 

Do you love me?

She calls with her shy mellow tone

‘No’ he retorts

Now leave me alone

“It’s been fun, ya’ know

I really had a ball…

But you must realise

It’s ‘just SEX’ after all“.

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton 

 

The Collective Watchmaker

~ Lessons in Obsessive Compulsive Disorder ~

 

A supremely proficient collector

Must attain each and every piece

Arrange them all in order 

Then line them all up very neat

Sequester the out of date stock

Lay it all out in profile

Alternate through each example

Then listing each model and make

Ponder its class for a while

 

It’s essential for an orderly mind

The brain matter rests and is primed

To concentrate time, after time, after time

To work out what’s next

When organising in depth

To gauge every level step, by step, by step

 

For anyone to accumulate this wisdom

A preoccupation with planning’s the key

Classification is a really must

In fact it’s a necessity

So please eloquently demonstrate uses

For the items of value to me

Remember the minutiae’s important

So segregate out by degree

 

It’s essential for an orderly mind

The brain matter rests and is primed

To concentrate time, after time, after time

To work out what’s next

When organising in depth

To gauge every level step, by step, by step

 

Essentially, the structure and sequence is clear

The spindles, each cog and each wheel

Examine the pieces in your palm

Look over by touch and by feel

Present the facts for each clear code

Acquire all statistics and signs

Establish when it will be scrutinised

To accomplish the goal in good time

 

And the goal? -Why a beautiful antique timepiece – Of course!

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Contemplating

 

Evening shelter brokering the sunlit particles.

Lifting sundials.

Lifeline strokes whisper over head.

Catching, butterflies’ reflections.

My mind as a window.

Watches them fly away.

 

 

Copyright ©08/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Life!

 

 

 

Life!

Like multicoloured strands of dust,

Will disappear.

And yet we trust.

Will soon return like shadow specks.

A moment in time,

As one reflects.

 

Copyright ©08/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Father to Son

 

Where are the children of home?

Spread your wings,

For they are the universe, they are the sky.

Give heart,

For they show us light in every twinkling eye.

Father to a son.

Would always give his life that you won’t die.

 

Copyright ©08/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Ode To Oscar Wilde

 

Oh Oscar!

Love for young and sweet.

Fair to meter out your lines.

Play of life and actions to defeat.

All of those who seek to be unkind.

 

Copyright ©08/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

Mother Cord

 

 

Twisted red was the river

Running scrupulous blood

Now decomposed, yet once connected

It gave nourishment and love

 

Copyright ©08/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Paradise Indeed

 

Oh tips of trees take me on a journey

To a Montana vivid blue

The gentle roll of a landscapes green swathe

Sweep across that mild valley to an unknown yonder

Your cloud white, tipping skylight lilting shadowy rays

Vastness expounding

Lustrously sparse

Empty but for your homes earthly cradle

To live in a house in Paradise Valley

Would be paradise indeed. 

 

 Copyright ©13/03/2009 Beth Stratton

This poem is dedicated with thanks for the beautiful photography to Chris at http://iheartfilm.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too

 

 

   

Lust

Find it absurd

Seeing you, I have to have you

Tasting

Needing

Darting through your brain

Wanting the things you can’t have

Taking control of every thought

Skin, drenched pores twisting

Brain cells twitching

Neurons demanding serotonin and endorphins

Calling out fast and far beyond

To them

To one

To I

To none

 

Rush

Talk about the rushing

Eyes darting back and forth

Catching with soul outstretched

Staking

Feeling

Claiming an ounce of flesh

Heart, thump bitter pounding

Nerves catapulting

Power lights teasing the tips of fingers

To you

To me

To us

To we

 

 

 Copyright ©13/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

A Full and Frank Evaluation of Our Existence

Materialistic longing for all things we have not got

Costly property is what keeps us from determining our lot

Society prevents us from speaking out of turn

Community is one thing, for which, most of us yearn

Yet the thought police controls, always trying to improve

With mobile phones and sat. nav. we map our every move 

What is this new obsession with amassing endless wealth?

When children are illiterate, and they have no national health

 

The capitalists are winning as the forests are coming down

Making room for high rise buildings in the air and on the ground

‘Who wants to win a million?’ is now the clarion call

But sometimes, we’re left wondering, whilst planning for the fall

In our amenities and services, for which we’ll have to pay

If the politicians, who shout the loudest, win out and have their way

 

And, why ‘do’ cars rule the planet, when petrol’s overpriced?

What if food is too convenient, salt drenched and over spiced

And Mac D’s is losing profit because of the obese

Well, if we are so bloody stupid as to go ahead and eat

Yet, Doc Atkins is the guru to those who starve alone

All those women over forty, who’ve detoxed with silicone

They want extra plastic surgery and cutting to the core

To be the next celebrity, fashion victim or newspaper whore

 

Now we watch too much ‘True Crime’, and it is verging on insanity

Our obsession with ‘Discovery’ – Has meant there’s no reality

And all the media hackers are trying to change our will

‘Cos computers rule our lives now we’ve too much time to fill

But too much choice has left us simply worrying and fretting

The endless lists of shopping we all end up forgetting

When the supermarket prices are settled ‘whilst-U-wait’

For the e-bay generation to invade our nation-state

 

And new freedoms of information means the release of dodgy files

About the selective choice in elections, which has only got us riled

And who can forget the war “Which one?” I hear you cry

The one corrupting governments, who want their slice of pie

 

Now that we’re capturing all the innocent and throwing them in jail

Whilst, commuters are killed like skittles, knocked down by national rail

And the cameras that we wave at, on every single street

Are plotting all our footsteps in case we skip a beat

All this ever present security should alert us to the terror

That we might have missed our flight to space and be stuck on earth forever

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Shades Of Skin

 

Fashions and colours

Changing with the wind

Styles flash on catwalks

They don’t mean a thing

 

People hide

Petrified

Ashamed they don’t fit in

 

Colours fade

Young girls age

Vanities child

Locked deep within

 

People hide

Petrified

Ashamed to show their skin

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

Where do ideas fall?

 

Anyone can be clever

 

It’s about remembering that’s all

 

But if you’ve no retentive memory

 

Then where do ideas fall?

 

They simply hit the wasteland

 

Bounce upon the sharp sand

 

Lost in memories’ waiting room

 

Like some great lost and found

 

Until something can trigger emotions

 

Drifts of thoughts

 

Commotions

 

Ideological notions

 

That from the hallowed rivulets

 

Fill the head with sound

 

Then thoughts become links

 

Which feed knowledge

 

And out of the mouth expound

 

But my gosh…

Why do our memories so often give out!

And why is cleverness always in doubt?

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

 

 

 

A Woeful Tale Of Memory Loss

 

How do I start, where do I begin?

Oh no, now blankness rushes in

 

Why does my thinking always stall?

You know, I simply can’t recall

 

I’m trying to tell you of my tale

It’s lost again, but I shall prevail

 

I’ll offer you some small refrain

Oh damn, I’ll have to start again!

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton

 

 

Logic

It is simply a case of true logic

That ideological chatter

Can never be thought as important

As intelligent rulings on every matter

 

Copyright ©02/03/2009 Beth Stratton