Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
I'm lost inside your world...
Hang on every word...
A love I can't afford...
I breaks my heart...
Sapping my hopes..
Draining my dreams...
I live my life in a constant
daze...
Confused,bewitched and
bewildered...
Hot under the collar...
My love is far too young...
It's painfully naive..
For a man matured in years..
I worry...
About the money...
Living faraway from friends...
about the years I have not got...
And yes I love too much..
Your always on my mind...
Not to sure if that's healthy...
You make me feel ten feet tall...
And then I fall..
Or hit the wall...
I am a fool...
For believing dreams come true..
They only make you blue...
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
Like a wounded soldier..
Crawling through the lines...
I hold my hand out to you...
But your too far away..
Almost blinded by the blast...
I look into your eyes..
Don't let a tear drop fall...
My arms are aching...
Dragging this bloodied..
broken down body...
Across the muddy ground..
I need your arms to to pull me free..
My legs are numb..
Have lost all feeling...
Are you coming back to me....
Don't leave and walk away...
I'm deafened by the sound of war...
Please loudly call my name...
and let me know your there..
My heart is beating with retreat...
Let me leave this battlefield..
I'm coming home to you...
My final breath has left me..
I'm dying in your arms...
Wrap them tight around me..
and take me to my maker....
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
Funny but it makes me laugh
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
The broken teacup sits sadly on the garden table
Wearing tarnished stains and hardened sugar decorating
the sides
There's a bracken coloured moss that's resting at the bottom
Saddened by the wastefulness and ready for the bin
The half empty teacup sits regretfully on the bedside table
It wears a scarlet lipstick kiss that lays upon the lip
A hand print caresses the curved handle and the teaspoon
lays in the saucer
Saddened by the coldness and wishing it were full
The cup of tea sits proudly on the table
Full to brimming and letting off a fragrant steam
Luring with a hot temptation and a desire to be drunk
With soft white crystals that sweeten on the tongue
But saddened by the emptiness that surely comes
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
I really think I know you, even when I'm blue
When were full of Tasmanian oysters and too much chardonnay
But now your'e going home alone, I'm feeling oh so empty.
I do not think I know you, my dearest Sue, why so vague?
Why don't you return my calls, Should I get a takeaway?
I really think I know you even when I'm blue.
I really think I know you, when the banking statements due
Was that a spending spree when you spent the monthly pay
Now my wallet feels so light and oh so very empty.
I do not think I know you, are you really true
When you go away for days and stray amid the fray
I do not think I know you, even though I'm blue.
I really think I know you, though why so many shoes
How would you pick a pair, if we had to run away
And why keep all the boxes, especially when they're empty.
I do not think I know you, when were standing in a queue
Together yet so far apart, I look and feel dismay
I really think I know you, even though I'm blue
There's nothing left for us to share, our love is all but empty.
y
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
Blindly running down the road, misted by the coming storms
Standing lonely in the room surrounded by the family pictures
Tomorrow's past today and now you're all my yesterday's......
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
I LAY AND WATCH YOU BREATHING..
CATCHING EVERY BREATH..
HOLDING EVERY SECOND...
AFRAID TO LET THEM GO...
YOU ARE MY LIFE..
THE AIR I BREATHE..
I'M BREATHING HARD..
I FEAR I MAY HAVE WOKEN HER....
I HOLD MY BREATH...
SHE GENTLY BREATHES AND GOES
BACK TO SLEEP...
I LET OUT A SIGH OF RELIEF..
MY HEART IS POUNDING...
BREATHING HARDER....
TAKE DEEP BREATHES....
I CAN ONLY GASP AS I LOOK DOWN..
SHE'S BREATHTAKING..
MY LADY LYING NEXT TO ME....
MY BREATHINGS LABOURED....
LUNGS ARE PUMPING..
DARE I THINK SHE'LL STAY WITH ME..
FOR SUNRISE IT'S ME SHE'LL SEE..
THIS GNARLED AND WRINKLED FACE..
I HOPE SHE WON'T STOP BREATHING..
BUT IF SHE DOES..
I'LL HOLD HER GENTLY IN MY ARMS..
LIKE MY CHILDREN AT THEIR BIRTH..
AND BRING HER BACK TO LIFE........
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
JANUARY WAS ANTARCTICA.....
OCTOBER A BEACH IN BALI......
ALMOST FORGOT HONG KONG AT EASTER.....
NEW YEARS DAY IN SYDNEY......
NOW WHERE TO NEXT MY LOVE.....
EMIGRATE TO ENGLAND?......
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
Little town do not frown, this is no country circus, there are no smiling clowns,
please wear that pretty party gown
One road in and one road out to get us all about, a spin around the roundabout,
you wandering gadabout
In the fields are sweat stained bodies toiling, tempers boiling, tilling drought ridden
fields of hardened, unforgiving soil
The sheep and cows patrol the never ending pastures, while eating off the local plate
for them there's no escape
Machinery working overtime, thrashing, cutting, relentlessly taking full grown life,
never stopping till the farmhands bedtime
Lonely streets sits waiting for any sign of life, a mother and baby, perhaps the vicars wife,
this sense of isolation rife
There's silence running all around as if this place has come to rest, upon this sandy ground
leading to the west
Though far into the distance a desperate howl is heard, it chills me to the bone, i'm ashen
faced and all a feared
The hotel sits just off the street, a bleak and sad reminder, a bitter taste of yesteryears,
when the darts team played a blinder
Yet in amongst this emptiness there is a rose filled garden, with scents, bouquets and
vibrant blooms that tantalise my weary senses, oh sweet oasis, so please i beg your pardon
For decent, honest people are living here today, to earn the pay so they will stay, their
children with a place to play
But having left the garden it's the lonely sound of tumbleweed, blowing down the empty
streets and through my head, I must take heed
Before the spiteful dust returns to seed, making plants that cry and bleed
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Stephen Blencowe Poem
I'm bordering on a collie, a farmers friend indeed..
I've heard I am a sheepdog or so the cockerel crows..
Others say I'm barking mad and doing harm to trees..
But there's much to like about my life, except for Winter
mornings, when the cold and snow are laying...
My paws play tiptoe in the snow, I need some furry boots..
I'm up each day at the crack of dawn and working in the fields,
no fleecy coat for me...
Those wooly headed creatures are driving me insane..
Now they're going scatty because the wind is blowing...
Running round in circles, not knowing where they're going..
The ewes are feebly bleating for their lambs of yesterday..
While the happy rams are far away and seeing pastures new..
What would the farmer do without me, maybe whistle in the wind..
Or have blisters on his on his size ten feet..
Copyright © Stephen Blencowe | Year Posted 2012
|