Black leaves.

Picking off the black leaves.
The debris i do not need
Still the daily routine,
Chastens in the eves.
Amonst the black leaves,
You never saw all i could be
Shut your eyes.
Laying down on the wild sleeve
Of my heart.
The black leaves.
Pick them off and still they fall.
Brown, gold and awful cold.
Phone another waiting soul.
Listen to the yawning hole
That you left,
Amidst the black leaves,
I was always more than
You wanted to see.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Sobering thoughts.

I `ve been sober for a while.
Nearly sober as a judge.
Often weird symbols
Hide behind any cross.
Cold`s coming on strong.
Damp and gloom on high!
Matieralism, forever the returning panacea
Of the masses.
Those three wise men,
Never did get
Saachi and Saachi on board.
I`ve been sober for a while.
But who`s to know,
What`s round the corner.
The life of one person.
Whose feelings only i can see.
However dear to me i think,
I make the hymn.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The departure lounge.

Many times,
I have been near the departure lounge.
Never knew the how or why.
Only too near tears to cry.
Time to leave.
Cliches on your sleeve.
Ready to be 'sold'.
Like cards up, an armful ready.
The departure lounge.
What is this place?
The only sensible option!
Many times,
I could have gone
Rather than see and play out-
Bitter endings.
The departure lounge!
A better place to be looking at
From a comfortable view
Than actually arrive at.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Attention turning.

Like light fading from a day.
Messages in the distance,
Noises from afar.
Not heard anymore.
Just irritating,
Like a noisy car.
Like light fading from
A winters` day inexorably.
You cannot please everyone.
Sometimes,
You just have to say
That was yesterday.
But like before
My attention is turning,
A little back to you
Right now,
But soon.
There will be a different song,
And attention turning
Will begin

[...] Read more

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Protrusions and orifices.

It all seems about
Protrusions and orifices.
Evenings in or nights out.
A game of bravado.
Misplaced connections,
Protrusions and orifices.
Is all there there is.
Hoodwinked, gazumped
Winners, losers.
Judgements in the
Asylum of life.
Protrusions and orifices,
Where will it lead?
In new beginnings or
Heartbreak?
Drowning in a bottle of
Sadness.
Protrusions and orifices.
Is the burning of
The tyre machismo,

[...] Read more

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Lately Part 2.

The bits don`t fit anymore.
The calls are response driven,
Knee-jerk almost.
Not instinctive now.
I still like you,
And that makes it difficult.
Can see why we were a unit,
But also,
The mechanics of a puzzle are now
Flawed by absence.
I feel i am teetering on near resentment,
Drifting into a decayed death.
The bits do not fit anymore.
I carry on in a busy relentless despair,
Of a self-motivated recovery.
Wishing you were still in my life,
And not a fading memory.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Go down and drink the tranquil seas

Go down and drink the tranquil seas
Of a million rocky coves,
Stand up on a high point,
See the motionless deceptive sea
And a few unhurried looking boats
Like directionless targets.
Clamber about and hurt your feet.
Walk on the wild hill
Exhausted lie still,
Sleep the afternoon away.
It`s all part of time,
A circling rhyme,
Let the wind
Have it`s own way.
Gorse bushes and stony fields
Heather and weeds.
A serene arrogant
Hawk flies,
Soaring and
Dipping in the wind.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Harvestsong.

The last apple in the garden,
Fell unnoticed.
While I was away,
Making hay.
From August to December.
From rain to mid-never.
So cold as
'Shiver me timbers'.
The last apple,
Tasted bland and damp.
The fruit of all God,
For all to see.
Natures` harvest replenishing
Wild and ever free.
The last apple was mine,
For the first time,
Falling from August
To gone Christmas morn on,
From sunshine, rain
And fall, through winters`

[...] Read more

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

To old lovers anywhere.

I am miles away.
Like an old dearly loved obscure song.
A different town.
A different time.
Do not look the same,
Only worse.
The high street would say.
I am miles away!
Not the same person you cared for,
Our little niche was then.
Tucked away in cupboards
Of photos and love poems discarded.
Matierals of long ago.
I drive in a car
Like a lost soul.
Looking for a kindred spirit.
Fearful of another lightless winter.
Waiting for a ship called destiny,
Not seen around here lately.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Fluidity

People are everywhere you go.
Pottering from A to B.
The fabric of a nation.
People are everywhere you may be.
They can nearly always see.
Pottering from to and fro,
Always dying to 'go'.
Looking for the man in the 'know'.
Eccentric, pedantic,
A million varieties.
-Always looking for more.
Never certain where to go.
People are everywhere.
On the river, down the lane.
Pottering from B to A.
The fabric of a nation,
Its daydream whims
Turned into reality.
Fluid is the day of night.

poem by Peter Vealey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!