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Best Poems Written by Calum Eager

Below are the all-time best Calum Eager poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ocean's Edge

To ocean's edge I knelt
to water, crouching down by
a lily guilded mirror.

In it I saw stars,
and was saddened
by the dark void in the middle.

As I moved it went with me,
so slowly I left,
and took it all away.

Leaving in my wake 
the stars, to shine on
peacefully, over moonlit bay.

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Some Refuge

You see a cold touched room,
The remains of a flame flicker.
Hopes are reflected in the embers,
Things that once may have been.

A form lies, cast into moonlit confines,
Beset all around by shadows,
Overwhelmed, alone, disassembled.
A body trembling with fickle wants.

All it's memories are windswept,
Insides are a desolate expanse.
Turbulent sights passing by you,
They sow doubts and perplex.

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Harken To Halcyon Ways

So a feint hope seeps through,
Though she won't wait.
And I am taken aback.
Sit, watching the entrancing eyes
Reflect an odd transcient light.

Well now I slowly grow
Feel gradually more old.
Quiet musings, once ventured
I cannot reclaim.
So I look down upon skin.

Let desire becomes licit.
Let avarice reach out.
Consume, enjoy.
All in unseemly yearning.
We are all awful and I'm complicit.

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Wire Nest

There's a fairy in my chest
Live's with two crooked knives
In a barbed wire nest.
She loves to play and hide
In the dense and dolorous vines.
And I can get no rest.
As she tortures me at all times.

Details | Calum Eager Poem

First Morning (Ward 8)

It takes my life,
through a delicate, plastic pipe.
I lie here. Knowing
I am punctured.

It takes my life.
Straight from my feeble heart,
that flutters,
as the red stuff flows.

My eye's open.
See chest moving, and a rose 
pitifully blooming.
A spark of red on an arm
that's a dry, white steppe.

A listless breeze
blows through my skull,
a whimper off noise,
in a long empty hall.

Butterflies in stomach.
Trapped in this bed.
Head full of loves,
who are dead, dead, dead.

In dreams I claw
at loose earth,
with fingers clawed,
as if bones alone will do.

If I apply foce,
scream till hoarse,
spew bile and spittle,
won't bring them back.

Must lie still.
Bear it.
The weight in tonnes
of those dearly departed.

I see it now vivid.
I am waif-thin, pale skinned
a terrible wretch, a thing.
It's drained me. All of it.

I'm so warm that I
must glow as a lantern,
thrown against frosted window.
I am the shards.

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Love Is Signed To Lies

Awake from a slumber
Raise head above parapet.
You then stand stock-still, a sad
Sorry being. 

Live your days
And soon months as a shadow.
An unreachable figure.

Why speak? You're not profound
Do not dream as a Rimbaud,
Or long for a Verlaine.
It's the ending you fear.

That time passed speaks off a yearning
And wallowed in romance. Love becomes
A strange thing that twists and cuts.

For what we call love 
Is but the shudder of lust 
On any youth's shoulder.

Details | Calum Eager Poem

Siren's Call

Loose lips speak a truth,
held close in my breath,
that I exhale to call out to
my own wasted youth.
Loath to move from this.

From being softly struck dumb
by your fine hair and smile,
and the gaze and words that
so gently bound my wounds.
My hurt is a Sirens call.

With a face now mapped
with long days of wear,
stripped of joy that
from birth slowly died.
I have kept nothing.

But a memory of your touch.
And your hands,
so slender and thin,
that I was afraid almost
to touch your fine skin.

When I remember love
I feel truely shaken.