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Martin Hopkins Poem
Watched you pack your bag.
Sadness stood with me as i
Waved goodbye to love.
The hard of hearing
Listen to the spoken word.
Never sounds the same.
High winds bend forest
Trees, that shiver their green leaves.
Takes my breath away.
The night crept along
Silently window shopping,
Observed by a patient moon.
Silver freckles in
The sky at dusk make me smile.
They twinkle twinkle.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
I watched the sky
In Bahraini blue
Cloak me in its woven
Rue,
Blossoms bowing
In a pink parade,
Daisies dreaming
In golden shade,
Music softening
Incensed air,
Your smile
A dream
In fleeting flair,
Bahraini sky
In shades of blue
And shadows
Of the birds
That flew,
Here I am
Not much to see
But there with you
I long to be.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
Pink and yellow flowers;
Distinguished
And boastful
In their exuberating
Colours,
Braced themselves
On tender stalks
Of watery greens,
While Butterflies
Dressed as Red Barons,
Hovered and hummed
And flapped
Their Scarlet wings
Feverishly.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
In a restaurant
Elvis hung on a wall
Slightly crooked –
-nostalgic sepia,
Trademark pompadour.
His far away gaze
Staring blankly
Out at nowhere,
Through a window
At the drabness beyond.
In the background
“Always on my mind”,
Plays quietly behind the scenes -
- while a midday sun
Trickles colour into Elvis.
I leave after coffee
And take a walk
Down lonely street,
Where I will search for
Elvis in heartbreak hotel -
- I need to tell him
How much I miss him.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
After you left
I daydreamed about your smile
And listened to your voice
In the echoes of my mind.
Outside, beyond the loneliness
Of my heart,
The crisp golden rouge
Of autumn tumbled in
Sweeping and floating
In a melancholic haze;
Yet here, alone
With the worn fabric of
My memories
I just existed and fell
Into your smile
That continually looped
Over and over again.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
I want to retire
Like the Pope,
Maybe
Meet him for coffee
And carrot cake
On a leafy boulevard
And people watch,
Putting the world
To rights
Like a couple of
Regular guys
And walking with
The spring
Of untapped youth.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
I went home alone
After you left,
Cloaked in my own darkness
While Clogging memories
Of your smile
Accompanied me on
The night time drive
Tinged with lonely sadness.
Later I found your hair
In the bathroom,
Beautiful strands of
Discarded gold
Which I framed
Along with your tears
That had bejewelled
My heart.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
I think I should have
Been born a tree -
- Maybe a silvered birch
With feather veined
Leaves -
- I could greet
My tall reflections
That swim saintly inside
The nearby streams -
- Or a lofty, leafy oak,
Crying slow orange tears in autumn
And being a shoulder
For solemn lonely birds
To cry on -
- It has been said
That I always had my head in the clouds.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
I walked languidly through autumn,
Amongst a wind
That came at me like a whetted knife,
And crisp brown leaves that
Had gathered like old sailors
Jostling for one final parade;
All dressed in their best
Green and brown and autumn coppers.
I followed the birds south,
Past bejewelled webs
And leafy drifts
Thinking of you,
Somewhere;
Your face framed
By hair the colour of deepest night -
- But your heart,
Forever in autumn
Dancing and laughing
In our cinnamon memories
And oranges for eyes.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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Martin Hopkins Poem
October tumbled into November
And brown leaves
Wilted, damp and derelict
Loafed idly beneath trees
That stretched naked
Amongst the rich
Sweet floral,
Of the winter Jasmine.
Oak trees cried
Slow tears
Of brown and orange,
That permeated
A scent of watery fruit
And lavender -
- Dreaming of spring,
And prodding the
Neighbouring birch trees
With cumbersome boughs
Like an errant brother.
Copyright © Martin Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
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