On nights like this

On nights like this
When I can’t sleep
I sometimes miss
Feeling your breath
Upon my chest

On nights like this
I feel alone
And long for the phone
To release your voice
And set my heart to rest

On nights like this
As the salt of my tears
Flavour my lips
I rip away the walls
Within my breast

And bathe myself
In the well of love
That waits therein
For you
To mount the crest
And drink your fill

On nights like this
I await your kiss
Lie awake like this
Until my heart breaks
Once more

Terry Dobson, 16 August 2015


The anger in your eyes
Leaves me paralysed
Like your body

The insults you shout
Shoot through my defences
I feel helpless

Your aggression
Strips my skills
And my will

So I walk
Out of your life
And into mine

That moment

That moment
Between two breaths
When fingers first touch

That moment
Between heartbeats
When lips first meet

That moment
Between thoughts
When realisation hits

That moment
Between you and I
When words matter not

That moment
Between then and now
When I wept


Shadow falls
On dappled water
Darkness stretches
Across the weir
Bathe in cool air
As willows whisper
Ancient tales

The earth remembers
And so do trees
As roots delve deep
In history
I lay back
Close my eyes
And listen

The ancestors call
I feel them tug
Upon my roots
I feel their blood
In my veins
I feel their spirits
Upon the land

Their bones now dust
Beneath cathedral stone
Their feet once walked
Beaten paths
Beneath streets now cobbled
Their shadows fall
Upon my home


Morning breaks

crashes through my window

A thief in the dawn

To steal my sleep

But I lie awake

surprise the sunrise

and the wood pigeons

on the roof

I think of you

and wonder how

your morning breath

would feel on my chest

I contemplate the fate

that introduced us

a passion for words

that drew our lips together

for our first kiss

I hope one morning

to awaken to the sound

of your breath on my chest

instead of birdsong

but there’s no rush

When the time is right

we will know

and be ready

Until that moment

let us hold hands

and walk together

in the marketplace

serenaded by buskers

and birdsong

and feel the living poetry

all around us

“It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it’s called Life” Terry Pratchett


Polished oak
Curvaceous glass
Nameplate in brass
Uniform sand
Each grain a match
Bulbous eye reflected
As she watches
Each tiny piece
Pass her eye
Life passes by
As she watches
Each tiny piece
A moment
She will never
Experience again
Yet she watches
Her life slip away

Dust coated
Neglected wood and glass
Tarnished nameplate
Each grain of sand
Falls unnoticed
Each tiny piece
A different shape and size
To the eye
But no one watches
Each tiny piece
A moment
He will never
Experience again
He’s out there
Living each moment
Not watching
Life slip away

What about you?


Death rides a white horse
Only one man could ever
Call that horse Binky

(Yet another Discworld reference)

and now

Work eats up my day
Leaves no time for poetry
Until I get home


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