An old herdsman said to his son
when one went astray,
untethered take note,
it just wandered away,
“You get my goat!”
A present pupil told the teacher
who the register was taking,
with such a serious cough,
the whole school was shaking,
“You tick me off!”
A bossy boyfriend informed his girl,
“We're going for a walk in the woods,”
but bitterly tired of being bossed,
she gave him the goods,
“You can get lost!”
The carpenter spoke to an apprentice,
yet, as his instruction received no thanks,
believed he was teaching a clown,
and, like sanding a pile of planks,
“You wear me down!”
We’re all under construction~
beams of old longing,
new rooms of courage,
hallways still waiting for light.
Some days the blueprints blur;
the architect in us
loses her pencil,
forgets which dream
was meant for which door.
Yet the work continues:
a quiet hammering of hope,
the soft lift of a window
finally opening
to a better wind.
We walk around ourselves
like half-finished houses,
touching the places
that still need sanding,
still need paint,
still need forgiveness.
And somehow~
in all this scaffolding,
in all this dust~
we remain beautiful
in the way unfinished things are:
full of promise,
full of rooms
we haven’t entered yet.
Today I realized that staying the same
Is just a slower way of breaking my own heart,
It’s finally dawned on me that I can’t
Keep carrying these jagged edges;
They’ve started to cut me, too.
I am tired of bleeding for a ghost.
Because you don’t love me anymore and
I’m not even sure you ever did,
Though I think you’d love to hear this
I’ll give you the silence you’ve been waiting for,
I knew you were the person of my dreams.
That’s exactly where you’ll stay.
Once you leave, I’ll begin the repairs,
Sanding down the parts of me I bruised.
I’ll take the pieces you and I didn't want
And build something nobody will recognize,
Until I finally evolve into a better me.
Until loving me doesn’t hurt.
Start with the fracture -
the splintered thing lodged in your ribs
that no cough can dislodge.
Call it "inspiration" if you must,
but know it is just hunger
with a prettier name.
Next, the bones:
a rhythm tapped absentmindedly
on a diner table,
the half-heard melody
of a stranger’s laugh,
the way your childhood home
still hums in your teeth
when you say its name.
Now, the bloodwork -
verbs writhing like minnows in your palms,
adjectives that stick like burrs to your sleeves.
(Here is where you’ll bleed.
A poem is not a wound,
but the salt rubbed into one.)
Arrange the fragments on the page.
Watch them refuse to fit.
This is the part where you learn:
a poem is not a puzzle,
but the hand that shakes
as it forces the pieces together.
Finally, the lie -
the smoothing, the sanding,
the pretense that this
was always the shape
you intended.
Sign your name at the bottom.
Walk away before it cracks.
my toenails are as thick as a truck
limb clippers do not cut through them
I use sandpaper on a Dremel drill
when my toe hurts, I know I am through
But not one second before I am in pain
"It's RUBY TUESDAY night" declared Charlie.
Why do yer call it that when it's ruby murray for curry?" retorts Steve.
"It's coz we 'ave it on Tuesdays that's why mate" replies Charlie.
Steve shakes his head "But Charlie, we do 'ave it on Saturday nights too."
Charlie laughs."Last one your ANGIE cooked, my guts felt like WILD HORSES were stampeding inside and lets say it wasn't quiet the TUMBLIN' DICE coming out the other end either."
"Too much info there Charlie boy and if she hears yer say that you'll get more than a clip round the ear, bunch of fives more like. You still helping me decorate Jades bedroom this weekend? She wants us to PAINT IT BLACK" asks Steve.
"Black? ain't that gonna be dark and make it feel smaller?" Charlie asks.
Steve sighs "Yeah, probably, it's her space so she can have it. Not my choice but YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT even in yer own house when yer surrounded by HONKY TONK WOMEN. Anyway, gotta get this splinter out that's UNDER MY THUMB from sanding down the skirting. Sort that, grab a beer and play THE ROLLING STONES cd the Mrs got for me birthday. See ya later mate".
Dominate space
At the end of the, argument
Outside the fight
Runt the challenge
Litter the ballads
Confronting the battles
Never landing
Never sanding
Off the grit
Shoulders visit me
One down
And grumpy again
Infinite muse
Turning straight
Becoming hate
Facing suicide
Or nothing comes back
Not allowing a come back
A word and its sworn
To be
The deceit, conceived
I am without
As wist
I became wist
A woman in a shop
She sat in a shop that sells jumpers and scarves
doing some embroidery for a wealthy client who
wanted his name in big red letters to make it clear
his exalted sanding, but also as a person who
bought wares made by hand
When the man who runs a famous site had
gone in a fanfare surrounded by sycophants
she tied on a silk dress of untold value and
we embraced at the foot of hell
the dress was not for the intended bride
The girl, artis with needles and threads, had
green eyes as a bottomless sea impossible to
read in bedroom light or in a shelter waiting
for the bus to take us heavenward in the sin
of greedy sex and thorn lips
Oh, this heavenly day, a haze of dreams
most of them unfulfilled, lacking in the truth
as something partly remembered, a line
a famous poet wrote, but whatever it was
she stung me with her needles
Unstain
As I reach for fresh paper
In the hopes to start over
I dog-eared that chapter
Yellowed in time
Seeped in tea
Sepia to the tee
You stained me
Like old photographs
From distant memory
You can’t stain without sanding
I can’t stay withstanding
Waiting in line
If I don’t stand down
You sand me down
I’m stripped, then sealed
Am I oak or ash
Did you even ask?
If I want to be finished
How many coats will you cover me?
Before you could no longer see
What I used to be
Strip the grain
You cannot stain over stain
My skin light
Rubbed raw
But you’re overstaying
Your welcome
You’re welcome!
I've asked you to stop
And yet you strip me
Of my colors
With even strokes
You wipe away what’s left
You didn’t leave a trace
Of the woman that I used to be
How many times will you coat me?
How many quotes till you let me be.
Through a break in the trees -
Flows a tawny river -
Sanding the rock endlessly
As a peerless carver.
The jungle is not seen
In the murky water's face;
The sky does not skim upon
Its delicate countenance.
It refuses the trees' approach;
The rushing seeks to replace
Tribulations for peace -
Skipping them away.
Its waters fill my mind;
I remember Zongo Falls
As an obscure haven
For which my heart longs.
when it comes to renovating
I'm definitely slapdash
in fact it would be fair to say
that I can be rather rash
sanding bores me senseless
and it's a job I try to shirk
because I lack the patience
for the preparation work
I’ve slapped the paint on badly
it’s dripping down the door
oozing over skirting boards
to decorate the floor
spots are on the window
and spilled upon on the stair
unfortunately I've got most of it
stuck on my face and hair
they say patience is a virtue
a saying I should not ignore
because now that it’s all finished.....
I wish I'd sanded more
The crescent is bright today
It sparkles in the sky
Just above my head
High in the sky
Reminding of romance
That plays in my mind
Whenever you are in sight
Of the romance
That comes in all my dreams
Yes dreams
That makes me wish
The night could be long
So I keep dreaming of you
That night under stars
imagining of a day at the beach
blowing those anniversary candles
tasting ur taste
sanding ur name
And when the day comes
I tell myself
i will dream nxt to u
... wake up
only to find i was fantasizing
The day will come
When I'll express my love
In words and not poems
no where to be seen
let me just practice
what I will tell then
Upside down teardrops falling gently onto a magical mirror
as crystal chandeliers of soft light filters through reflecting
a treasure of pearls that speak to a thousand bounties paid,
whilst a sanding of polished memories stone cut a diamond,
at once, that’s truly regal once upon a time in a deep dream
that shows inside a mystical castle embodied around a circle
that splits into a quarter wherein four cells hangs a real picture
of truest beauty and love that bathes inside the ocean’s breath
and sighs, whilst murmuring your name and speaking of the tides
lost at sea, whereby all of us, at the end now, shall become sacred
sailors who must freely seek out and fulfill our own human destiny.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 20, 2021 (Free Verse)
Upside Down Teardrops Falling Gently
Upside down teardrops falling gently onto a magical mirror
as crystal chandeliers of soft light filters through reflecting
a treasure of pearls that speak to a thousand bounties paid,
whilst a sanding of polished memories stone cut a diamond,
at once, that’s truly regal once upon a time in a deep dream
that shows inside a mystical castle embodied around a circle
that splits into a quarter wherein four cells hangs a real picture
of truest beauty and love that bathes inside the ocean’s breath
and sighs, whilst murmuring your name and speaking of the tides
lost at sea, whereby all of us, at the end now, shall become sacred
sailors who must freely seek out and fulfill our own human destiny.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 20, 2021 (Free Verse)
once upon a mid-flight weary
my mind wandered in a hurry
as to he who sat beside the door
suddenly there was a yapping
as of someone's internal scrapping
t'is just a nut i thought and nothing more
quite distinctly then i remembered
my headphones were not in the bag upon the floor
as he who sat beside me began to snore
the sounds did chill me of his napping
a darkness dreaming of thunder clapping
as his voice kept repeating 'please....no more'
finally appeared the steward for just a minute
and watched he who slept beside loudly snore
mumbling and snoring noises and nothing more
then a microphoned voice announced we were landing
and the passenger beside me snapped out of his sanding
as the voice on the speaker announced 'leave by this door'
stan sand
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