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Robert Ptolemy Poem
Will you leave this life
Without a murmur or a whimper
Be cast down to the depths below
In a hallowed tomb of timber
You did not exit stage left
To the sound of thunderous applause
Or the scream of heavy bombardment
Or some tearing tiger claws
To all the men who slipped away, unnoticed
Here is ye're epitaph
We looked at the world with unblinking eyes
And all we could do was laugh
Copyright © Robert Ptolemy | Year Posted 2009
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Robert Ptolemy Poem
Here lies beautiful Elysium
It shines from your brightest of eyes
Flutters lightly as you blink
And cures my most anguished of cries
Because love is a beautiful idea
Causes all anguish and pain
Removes all hopes and inhibitions
But I would go through it again
But no more of this love, unrequited
But it seems that its all that I get
I'll throw myself at it one more time
But I know it will lead to regret
Could you, or you
And your deceit and lies
Take pity on this fool
And show me loves juiciest side
I will not hold all these wild desires
I cannot stop this need to be loved
So my depravity knows no bounds
Till your grace falls from above
For here lies beautiful Elysium
It shines from your brightest of eyes
How long is this night without you
A wish, and a whirlwind of sighs.
Copyright © Robert Ptolemy | Year Posted 2009
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Robert Ptolemy Poem
I'll write this on the back
Of a cold-tempered cloud
Aching with rain released
onto a black clutched shroud
Its another fine morning
But I pray for showers
To reflect my emotions
As I while away the hours
Seconds,minutes pass
At a slow progression
They take no heed of forlorn boys
Dreaming of their obsession
These seconds march ominously
To another breaking day
As the sky brightens to white,
to blue, not grey
As the farmers arise
And mount tractors to save the hay
I sit by a sunlit window
Waiting for a rainy day
Copyright © Robert Ptolemy | Year Posted 2009
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Robert Ptolemy Poem
A gravestone.
It says Sheila Ryan, died aged 59
A devoted mother
Here clinging to the hillside
Striving, for the solemn white cross at the top
Standing
quiet,
unmoving,
unsympathetic.
As soil creep carries the believer down the hill.
Copyright © Robert Ptolemy | Year Posted 2009
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Robert Ptolemy Poem
Its 3 o’clock.
And the walls are telling me to sleep
But no luck
As my brain throbs like the bulls of Pamplona
Giving way to
Pretty, vacant wanderings through empty fields
To clear my head
Then the caffeine buzz at half six
And the bittersweet sting
Of revealing rays on my face
As the gloominess evaporates
And in the window my eyes shine blood red
Copyright © Robert Ptolemy | Year Posted 2009
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Robert Ptolemy Poem
All events and all occasions
Must come to an end
Whether scuttling out of sight
Or disappearing round a bend
For everything is beautiful
And nothing beautiful can last
Dying for its beauty
Into the shadows it is cast
All reflections of perfection
Yet, imperfect symmetry
All chained to the rock
Of our mortality
To return to the earth
To be at once whole again
Is both the fate and curse
Of every living man
Perfection at last
Yet only when we die
Returning to the earth
As our souls take wings and fly
Copyright © Robert Ptolemy | Year Posted 2009
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