Words
Words can wound.
Even those gently spoken,
But they can also heal.
Breathe balm.
Pain is a thread that runs through all lives,
Its lies entwined with the joy.
P H Brookes Copyright 2003
poem by Paul Brookes
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Shattered
No armoured heart
Transparent as glass
And just as brittle,
Shattering at harsh words.
I have no defence
Against your lanced barbs,
Razor sharp to cut, slice.
You inflict the death blow
And I am stripped to the soul
poem by Paul Brookes
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Requiem
Our friendship needed tending
Like a garden kept weed free.
Watered and fed, protected.
Yet we starved it of affection
Let it die, turned it to a desert.
Too late for revival it lies as dust.
No requiem just a corpse unmourned.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Skies Do Weep
The skies do weep for you my love,
The rivers are full of tears.
The wind does sigh for you my love,
The trees bow in despair.
The world is colder now my love,
The sun seems dimmer.
How I long for you my love,
But your not there.
P H Brookes Copyright 2011
poem by Paul Brookes
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No Obituaries
Hot words spat in anger.
Things he wished not said,
But genie like out the bottle.
Nipped from the heart.
It lay there between them
This last murdered piece of love.
To late for resuscitation
It lies dead and cold.
No obituaries needed.
P H Brookes Copyright 2011
poem by Paul Brookes
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Fallen Marker
A construct de-constructed
Scattered.
Demolished.
Marble carved words
Muddled now,
Muddied.
Problematic,
No translation,
An undecipherable code.
Soon the wind will blow
And the words will be dust.
Erased from memory.
Mixed in earth.
Lost.
P H Brookes Copyright 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Graveside
They stood alone at the grave edge.
We stood back.
Gave those precious moments,
Their last farewell.
The melancholy of that rainy day,
Where tears mingled with rain.
But then the sun split the sky
A shaft illuminating their grief,
Their agony for a too soon buried son.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Oblivion
Living furious,
Our fireball existence
We rushthrough life,
ladder
the
up
Step
To
On the fast track.
Burn up,
We ignite a flash.
A bright conflagration,
A blaze of glory.
Then crash into oblivion.
And are no more,
Not even a memory.
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Brookes
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Loss
Loss is not that first stab,
Nor the numbness that follows.
Loss is not the nights after,
Nor tears shed heavily into pillows.
Loss is coming home full of news,
Only to find an empty house.
Forgetful, to set the table for two,
Turn to speak to vacant air.
Loss is to laugh alone.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Our Love
Searching the heart,
A revisionist pledge.
As into its depths I sink,
Deep with searing thoughts
I struggle to find its essence.
What is nature of our love?
There is no answer,
Only a silence of content.
For there is no rhyme
Put to page can describe.
No reason for love;
It just is.
poem by Paul Brookes
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