Creative Writing, Poetry

Love is?

Love is patient
Love is kind
Love is blatant
Love is blind

Love is dated
It’s in the air
Love is sacred
Love is fair

Love is yours
Love is mine
Love is giving
Of your time

Love is telling
Love is divine
Love is of spirit
Love is a lie

Love is for the broken
Love is for the blessed
Love will triumph
Every single test

Love comes at first sight
It is all of last night
Love is for the moment
Love is for life

Love is costly
Love is free
Love is exclusive
It isn’t for me

Love is elusive
A mystery
It’s undefined
In-conclusively

Love is maternal
Love is obliged

Love is eternal
It is The Sacrifice.

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Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

My Vices

My vices get the better of me,

I am disobedient,
They tell me – be obedient,
But then I find that once again
I am disobedient

I hate my enemies,
They tell me – love your enemies,
And then, I find that, once again
I hate my enemies

I am drunk,
They tell me – do not succumb to drunkenness,
And then, once again, I find that
I am drunk

I lie, to hide the truth I lie,
They tell me – be honest,
And then I, once again find that
I lie

I take, take, take,
They tell me instead – to give,
And then I find, once again, that
I take

I am afraid,
They tell me – do not be afraid,
And then I find that, once again
I am afraid

Help!

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Creative Writing, Momentary

Too Busy

I watch the busy people rushing through life.

They don’t have a moment to stop and notice that they are being watched,

Nor do they have the moment to notice that their daughters are becoming wrecked emotionally,

That their sons are on the edge, that their babies are not progressing,

Nor do they notice their dying mother and father or their forgetting grandparents.

They don’t have the moment to notice.

I take a step out from behind the coffee shop window,

I am on the corner of Baldwin Street, in the city of Bristol,

The sun is high in the sky and there are no clouds,

I suck in a gush of air through my nose

While I close my eyes

I blow out a flood of breath.

I am a busy person too,

I am busy relaxing and enjoying my existence,

Eating and drinking, loving and living,

I am two decades old but I have understood already.

I will not partake on the journey where I will be dying to live

When that life means really living to die

I approach a woman who has taken a break from the buzz,

She’s bent over by the bus stop, pulling at her heel.

I start, ‘Excuse me, Mam’

‘No, Sorry, I’m busy’ she says as she tries to run off.

Her heel gives way and I approach again.

‘I can see that and that is why I am here’

‘No, no I can’t talk to you now’. She throws her shoes off

And barefooted she re-joins the rush through life.

She hadn’t noticed that she had dropped her wallet and key

My returning it was unsuccessful because she was too busy.

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