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Best Poems Written by Lemuel Griffiths

Below are the all-time best Lemuel Griffiths poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Introspective Sea Change

Same within.Introspection of Sea Change

08/06/2016
Lemuel Griffiths
aka
Lem Gunn




Fiercest of battles above my head,
Same within.
 
Blue battling the grey,
'Never ending turmoil throughout time.

''I coulda' saved her, 
Kept her sane., 

Love is strange'' .., I told him.., concluded, 
The promenade train tooted, I repeated..,
His face didn't change.

I looked down and spoke again., 
''Okay, so the car died and the job went too, but the love was still there.., 
Forever!''
..Resisting the 'half-horizon' stare. 

I noted that the various chewing gum, well, wasn't, as a gull cried in a passing swoop.

''Going off with my neighbour, of all things.'' 
-half gritted teeth.

He'd finished his roll up and cast it underfoot...,
Saw, at last, my grief. 

''Listen kid.., the world will go on., 
within you ., without ya', ya feel me?''.

There was a sudden gust .., I think he mumbled, 'dumbass'.

''You won't be the first, nor the last, old son,
There'll be plenty more forlorn sat there,
We still got 50 billion years 'fore the sun flickers out, 
So where's tomorrow's cares?''

Well, that tickled me as he said take care,
And how he had to be getting himself on..,  
And how the weather's all upside down this time of year,
And how deckchairs don't walk them-selves off the Prom.

The age of the mobile interruptions.., 
Why'd's the planet need to spin so fast,
I ignore the text that she's moving,
And how she thanks me for the past, mispelt blast.

Then her Mother, two Brothers, three Sisters, 
Invite me to a 'barbi', should the weather hold out,
But the job interview is what threw me., 
Life is fickle,
Of that, 
There's no doubt.

Details | Lemuel Griffiths Poem

Time Management and the Art of Throwing Alarm Clocks

b>Time Management and the Art of Throwing Alarm Clocks
by
Lemuel Griffiths
March, 2,017

Apparently, there's a God damned dog out there - according to my neighbour,
And his wife, Thelma, needs to understand this and know about the mess and understand it's consistency and have this information and keep it and hide it and all five minutes before my alarm goes off.

The trees sway in the distance as I run the water into the kettle - wiping my eyes with a knuckle.
The gulls saw past., thrilled at the the new morn.

In 200 hundred years, they'll all be gone.., and these trees.., and that neighbour and his nemesis and Thelma and the alarm clock and me.

The kettle clicks and the steam rises -
Up and onto the large mirror.., made of sand and heat that the former tenants put on the ceiling. 
I look up..., and down.. we're both amused for a second.., The phone rings.

It flips onto record mode
A voice , a man.., an angry man.
There's an authority in his voice.., like a.., 
Damn it.., my boss.

It's not the weekend anymore.
His weekend, mine.., Thelmas, the dogs
The weekend is unowned now.., by anyone.
Gone, never to return.
The first one of March, never to return.., 
This March, the dead end job.
And all the things come.., right along to pass.

Once in a while.., 
I wish back,
With all my beating heart.., 
For those glorious and golden five minutes of dream and non existence - I lost.., 
Before that Dog damned God. <>

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Changing Worlds

CHANGING WORLDS




.. And Unc' Nathan -
Well.., he just kept right on .., 
You.., (he coughed a long one) eyes.., 
They gonna' be square..

I blasted another.

'All that killing', said Ma..,
Lighting Grandpap's pipe.., 
Pausing.., for her own pleasure.., 
Then passing it on.

Brains blew all over the screen.

Big Sis' Charlotteen - out corner of my eye.., 
Breezing in from work,
Dropping ash down her blouse, reading mail .,
Blown smoke,  through nose.., 
hanging.
Cigarette in teeth..
'Ma.. gotta' date.., got any microwave?'

Flick of wrist ., I laugh out.., 
More aliens annihilated.., 

Aunt Elz-beth leaned in closer., 
spilt her special 'medice'-whisky peering too far in., 
A glance ., it dropping off her chin .

'These 'puter things.., 
That ain't no life'  I hit pause.

'And look at all the harm it brings'

Depressing the button.., 
While all about,
Rolled tobacco,
Tugged,
Swigged,
Bickered, argued and snickered,
But nothing came through that,  'thick skull o' mine'.
Nothing got delivered.., 

An yet.., way back when., 
O'er my shoulder.., 
Forever.., 
They all watched me save the planets.., 
We all knew we were all heroes,
Kept stopping by as I solved the worlds. 
Stopping by.., even now.

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A Right To Swear

A Right To Swear

by 
Lem Griffiths

July, 2016.


Young gulls - love., 
How that fickle wind blows,
Soaring, dive bombing., 
As their fancy takes, not a 'blue sky' care -
O'er the chaos below-screeching of laughter,
They've earned the right to wail and cry and swear.

I looked down from my window,
In the nano second of a beat,
Yes., he'd once soared higher.., higher-
Or  balanced above all the recklessness., 
Life's precarious bird on a wire.
In the late Autumn's heat.

Just yards, at a junction, prized from his weapon,
'Lamp post lynching seemed nigh,
Til a uniform, roughly plucked him,
To give account.., 
To the young school gang., crying ., 'Why?'.

An interview, he can't be late -
He never got the job,
The 'mort'-gauge, a leaky roof,
All meant nothing to the mob.

Whilst back down my road, in solemn silence we stood,
His wings broken asunder,
Mrs lollipop closed his eyes, 
As a gust ruffled his hair., 
And in the distance -
A deep rumble of thunder.

So..., so long, young sea gull from number 28,
The homework chasing - no more,
The years and the town - all seem to stem from that day,
There ought to be a law....., 
Damn it, Dad.., there ought to be a law.

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Beasley and I

<
Beasley and I

Lem Griffiths

July, 2016


Henrietta D. something,
Never did mind him on top 'her,
'Least she never said, t'other, anyhow .
Beasley's my friend.., 
Comes and goes his own ways - and whenever -
Rises and rests with the plough.

A few careless folk I seen point his way .., 
But he never did mind either owt,
God's creatures all shine , but some deep down,
Apt that his ears are as Toby's for stout.

Guards his grog , more precious say he, than rubies,
As we meander up and through the town., 
Then amid wispy 'Emmerdale' mists, 
Look there., yonder...
'Same as yesterday'., think I, 
Cemetery bound.

Ma 'Da's' Mate, Beasley,
Oh he's travelled -
Seen Islands unravel,
And oceans of cold nature in men,
His face, just a mask -
From the depth-charges blast,
Aglow recounting tales of back then.

And no sooner., his through gate in church wall,
On God's own good consecrated stone,
Gets comfy, all laid out and sprawled
With a rucksack of grog and he's home.

The faded inscription beneath his shrunk shank,
Reads of 'Loving Memories and wondrous full life',
For 'Here Lies Henrietta D. something',
'His great love', he winks, 
But no, never his wife.
>

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The Love Cup Northern Star

<

The Love Cup, Northern Stars.

by 

Lem Griffiths

September, 2,016


Dash it.., 
Dash it all says I.., 
Through bars - I espy.
Their 'eaven, their night sky.

Well.., dash it., 
Let 'em have it., 
And the Northern-
Love cup-stars,
In a wisp of sudden sea fog., 
Like breath on a cold night.., 
I'm seeing.., me seven, 
Her eight, maybe nine.., 
All that way back in time - 

At her gate, 
Afore her Father bade her in,
And I, espy the handle form.., 
A'twinkling  in lavender hued summer sky., 

In Welsh she says, goodnight., 'Nos da'.., north star., 
aye.., the words.., 
And my world ne'er 'gain found - 
Press ganged and stormy life and seas bound.

Though my mind, as long and latitudes - 
This way, 'heave ho lads'
And to..., and fro.., 
Has ne'er forgotten.., 
Though long, long,
A thousand seas ago.

No.., Not by the strings at my trouser knee,
Nor the candles ablaze 'pon my hat.., 
Too much water passed, 
Too much what's called a sin,
If only an invite to the gathering., 
When I was a young Jim.

But it be 'myhap' - a pirate.., 
Not long.., afore the gallows, nigh., 
Through the bars I see.., above them., 
That cup o' love, northern cup of the stars,
If only that younger I,
Aye.., 
Below a younger sky. 

>

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Tidying Love All Up

<
Tidying Love All Up
by Lem Griffiths
July, 2016

Carefully, I asked, 
'What's with all the bleach in the pan?
All the week?'
She was the newly appointed Assistant Land Lady.

'It brings it all up the whiter', she came back..
I mused..
Her ., my life and this warm and lifeless, weekday afternoon.

I replied., 'Look.., is it a real thing., to be doing it all the while., 
Even my liver and onions don't get eaten?'

'What guests you getting?'
She shouted from somewhere
Come here umbridge, hauled by the collar, roughly,
I rose from my chair and made the hallway..
I am.., I am the guest.., to my nose .., my nose is the God-Damned..
Guest..........of me!'

There was a noticeable silence and I heard and felt the thrust of my heart.., 
My heart..,  and pondered.., nothing else.

From the second of the two bathrooms on the landing,
Came the flush.., a good bit of leg .. backing out .., 
Maybe I shouldn't of shouted so,
Too course.., always my way..
'Least ., back in the hay day.

'I mean'., I continued., 'we're turning a thousand miles an' hour..., 
In an empty space.., for Cry sake., 
..There ain't no aliens out there to comfort the lonely human race !'

A little more of that leg came out.. 
I think, maybe she was mopping away in there.
'I mean ., it's all made of mud.., 
Why ya' wanna bleach it all so clean, anyways?' 

She emerged., curiously, with a long handled dustpan.
Hair, brunette, that could quite easily cascade down.., down..
I saw the bluest of eyes.., 
The half flutter of an, 'Oh my, Mr D'Arcy' spirit,
In turmoil and repose.., 

But then Life and reality and her mouth caught up..

'What in the Sam Jesus you bozo's been a'eating round here., 
Good job I'm getting paid.., 
I'd never be doing all this tidying up otherwise'.

Love.., resplendent ., will manifest ., 
O'er, o'er and o'er again.., 
but not in this tenement, today.>

Details | Lemuel Griffiths Poem

The Mirror of Time

18/04/2017
Mirror Of Time

 
Surrounded by skeletons, 
All just a' running  and fast, 
Occupying their moments and minds., 
Big time,
Regrets of the past.., 
To stop themselves espying.., 
The mirror of time.

My friend.., my age, a paperboy., 
On his bike ., cycling to catch the freetime
Of a Sunny Saturday morning., 
In 20 Billion., I'll recall him.., 
Free-wheeling, right 'long,
The middle line.

Got an advert  inter-netted me., 
A mystic, says my future's all set.., 
For a minimal amount of coinage.., 
Tomorrow's Knowledge.,
And for a coin? 
What'd they hope for with what they purloin?

Guess I'll ask them in 20 billion.., 
See if they kinda misspent their days., 
They'll just give me their enamoured bible still.., in some kind of reverence, 
And say their guns speak louder than prayers. 

I'm just surrounded by all these walking skeletons., 
All running around to nowhere and fast., 
Trynna' occupy their minds and their moments,
But the mirror of time and their payment.., 
.....Comes....
At last.

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Summer Recollections

Summer Recollections
by Lemuel R. Griffiths
25th June, 2,108



Ah., to remember.., 
Whilst in the presence of a majestic tree, 
The single moment of a first-love-kiss-hearts beat.
Ere, the fleeting first knowledge of creation., 
As a butterfly, flutter-by lands upon a small hand - 
And a single sun-ray through a leaf.

With no thought of any other season.., 
If this be melancholy., 
Then I shall stay mad.., 
And incensed.., 
That I must someday leave.

Details | Lemuel Griffiths Poem

Desires of a Vacuum Heart

23/08/2017
Lemuel R.Griffiths

 'The vacuum Heart'.

Green car rolling.., 
Down my one way street, 
My ex neighbour.., 
Tinted screen.., 
Though one can just see through.., 
To he.., and the girl - 
She's an Ex, too.ha., some belle.

A'leaning from a first floor view o' the world.., 
Feeding pigeons.., gutter bread, 
The gulls 'pon the drive - 
A frenzy.,  with that wing clipping,
hungry for regime of sex and death and food without a start.., 
Everyone getting all they desire.., 
Desires of the vacuum heart.

He revs - angrily., 
Love diminishing with each and  every pedal push,
Diminishes., as does his inherited loot.

So.., why's the driver angry., 
At her beseeching, 
'Take this certain route?'
She looks up - 
Eyes lock,
I continue the feed.., 
The cooing, 'love and feed me' birds,
He revs - angrily., 
He's sensed her greed.

Two years of Fridays.., 
And still this derailed, bingo route.., 
Why look back., 
Why look back?
She killed me in a text, 
So why give even one hoot.,
The gulls will leave soon - 
Another winter looms.