A NEW MUNDANITY.

 

 

Rescue me from mundanity my lover

You have always been on my mind, since I first never knew you

A hot Arizona night, walking an endless black top desert road looking at the stars above us

Each one a soft salty kiss on your dry warm lips.

The desert moon so full like a cold dead face hanging oppressively above our small lives, our blessed intense love.

Jumping a flatbed to Denver or Austin,

And us, sharing a pint of rot gut to keep the cold desert night from our hearts and welcoming Jack into our souls…

Wish Sal was here … Sharing the scent of our travel sweat. Dean too.

And through Missouri…Wish I had a crystal ball …

I could see your face so much better through the fog …

The clarity of knowing your troubled thoughts.

Travelling together …Carolina odyssey …White beaches, blue sea.

Reading my own lovelorn, lonely poetry to you under the shade tree …

In a town square, full of civil war memories…Oppression. Domination. Slavery

But we laugh it off…Both of us, we are no Martin Luther King’s to exorcise injustice.

Only mine. My own sad injustice. My own truth.

Lover … Meet me soon … You are too often in my crazy dreams. Never in my love enveloping arms.

Your face is always behind a veil of not knowingness

And I plead … Rescue me from mundanity my lover

A cold clear Scandinavian night … Jagged shimmering lights in a northern sky …

And you are with me … As always. Only a heartbeat away but so so far.

Holding my small work worn fingers in your own. I feel you now. I can imagine your warmth.

Tracing ‘Jeg elsker dig’ on the back of my hand with a slender loving fingertip.

Riding the train … A city … Somewhere … Entering a city … A no hope city … No trees, no green gardens.

Watching the evening lit windows from the train … Life going on out there in those small windows

In those rushing past snapshots … Secrets. Lust. Hate. Mundanity … Because it’s always there. Perhaps in me too although with you ….

I banish it … And, and, and yes, I am waiting for you…Please come to me soon my unknown lover.

 

Riding the bus in England’s sad heart.

Second city blues … Am I in my own lost England? Is this really my home?

Minarets fill the vista of a crumbling slowly disintegrating society … Full of dark faces. Foreign speech and unfamiliar ways.

I love them you say. They bring us our own destruction. New Anglo-Saxons… New invaders. You smile.

Slowly taking over … And you smile again and tell me a story about your younger years.

Lover I know you so well …We talk most nights … You hold me close …so close I can feel your heart, so close I can hardly breathe.

I can feel your sweet breath on my cheek as you whisper to me in my loneliness.

Is this to be my penance for not meeting you yet. My pain for this being away from you.

I can’t even imagine your name. I do try but it is always a quiet whisper away from me.

But I hear your voice and like everything in my life …

Are you too late. Will we ever meet or will we just pass each other by?

Will you leave me again?

Lover please … Save me from mundanity. And I will rescue you from a life of not having my kisses.

Not having my love, not feeling my heart beat beside yours.

Can you see me now? Can you feel me?  Do you dream of me on your lonely nights?

Or do my word echo in meaningless voids?

Crying out but never ever answered?

I am writing this for you now. I compose this for you.

Do you know me? … and still I look for you.

 

A red grape … A crushed Tuscan dream. A red stain on you ruffled white blouse.

One button too many undone. Temptation?

Blood of your heart or spilled wine?

But a smile that says I don’t care. I will never care when I am with you.

Wherever we are. Whoever we are… whatever we are.

 

Yes. Oh Yes, our morning … Driving to some dead-end job.

I left you this morning … Skinny legs sticking out from under the duvet. Hair in your face.

A mess…But my mess. Love tossed bed … Chipped cup of coffee left.

And save me from mundanity. Lover Please save me now.

I can barely exist with this pain,

And moving on. Are you with me lover? Not yet?

Are you the same as me? Seeing sense in darkness. Love in a gesture.

Are you thinking of me now?

Are you missing me … still unmet?

Do you yearn for your unknown lover as I do?

And we travel and love.

A small island off the African coast. And different stars above.

And always we said. Where we are means nothing.

A snowflake on a spring morning

Yesterday’s newspaper, last year’s worries

But we will have each other. No matter where we are. No matter the things we do.

And save me from mundanity my lover.

 

But my lover I fret. Words taken wrongly on a drunken night.

Misunderstanding. Fear of our own feelings

Fear for our lives. And still I wait for you my lover.

And still I search and I knew I had found you. Did I?

A city of holy spires and river walks.

Of hope and love.

Of dreams and talks, but you fell.

You lied and misled for no other reason than hurt

And I lost you on a crisis ridden night

Your dreams weren’t mine

Your needs not as sublime

And so?

Mundanity went on, you weren’t the one.

And still on this cold English day

Save me from myself, and Mundanity lover.

But …

Love is not dying away. Love is eternal.

Not fading or giving in

And I won’t lover. How could I give up hope so I seek you still?

And so now I move on … in your heart and your arms

In your love and your kindness

Is mundanity gone with Mid-Western dreams?

In middle America. Did my dream lie there?

My dream did my lover. You really did

But love warm sheets may warm again.

As warm as your hand in mine

Latte frosted lips may kiss again

My heart broke asunder one more time.

But you were the one.

Oh, my lover. You tease me so.

But you were truly the one.

You hide in my dreams, although you walk in my heart.

And I go on. Yearning for you lover.

And maybe destiny will still bring us together again

Or maybe cruel fate will forever keep us apart.

 

© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

In the cold early morn, with her heart still torn.

I have been looking through old memories today in my files. This one just jumped out at me and caused my heart to miss a beat and I just don’t understand it. I am certain it isn’t one my own but so much something I would love to have written. The file save date was December 2009 just before I met Raven for the first time, but the words are so pertinent to how I feel at this time. Its almost as if I had travelled back in time to save it. It moved me so very much that I decided to share it here. It was a photo file also so that is how I shall share it. As they say. Read it and weep. I did.

 

Theatre of Memory

The stage is empty now

The theatre is deathly still 

Almost loud in its utter silence 

The last applause long died away

Maybe the distant echo of lines spoken

Are heard by ghosts

And the loose board creaks

The old actor enters

Surveys the vast space before him

Rheumy eyes take in the vacant seats

His adoring crowd no more

Without the cheers

The adoration, the gasps of a rapt audience

He is more alone than he can stand

His leading lady, long gone

The cast? … away to some blowsy watering hole

Leaving him this empty stage

To tread alone

To read his well rehearsed part

… to no one

But the ghosts of his past might hear

Might take the other part

The lover rejected

The past scorned may join him

So through cold dry lips

He performs his part

 … but only the ghosts hear him.

Stan M Rogers copyright May 2017.

THE BLOOD OF KINGS

 

The blood of Kings courses through these aged veins

Some say

And as I look back over time

I wonder

Twilight approaches as I sit upon this weathered cliffside

And I wonder

About you… You left me so many years ago

Barren empty years ago

You were my one, my heartbeat, the breath in my lungs

The queen of this bloodline

But you are gone

No more real or graspable than fog in morning’s early hours

I barely remember your face, but the sound of your sleeping breath beside me

Is still heard in my dreams

I bought the hawk six months after you left, as is our way

Hatched the same day that you left

Your spirit was within I believe

But that hawk left me too … many years ago.

As you did

You both stretched your silken wings and flew

One last time, but the flight was eternal

No living thing landed back upon this world

 

And I have fought many battles since then

Terrible enemies that would make a man tremble in fear

But I had you inside me

I did not tremble, I cut them down with no remorse for you

Scant regard for their kin, if they had any

I did not care. I did my killing job, hands red with their blood

For a Kings blood runs through my veins

And all Kings are warriors

They must be if they wish to keep their crown

For others would soon take it

But without you … it rusts

I have no use for baubles

And I am king to few people now

Most died at the enemy’s hands

But I gain satisfaction that my enemy is no more

They all died by my hand in dreadful revenge for your death.

My job is done

 

And now I sit alone

The cold northern wind cuts through the valley below me

I hear your voice calling my name in its whisper

Calling me to join my lost love in the gathering dark

Calling for us to be together again.

And so I stand … I walk to the cliff edge

I call your name one last time from mortal lungs

One last step

And I join you in the wind.

 

Copyright. Stan M Rogers 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I WAS IN LOVE A LONG TIME AGO.

 

I was in love… a long time ago

But I never noticed that love dies slowly

It trickles away like fine grains of sand between your fingers

… no matter how tightly you clutch it.

Then one day the last few grains blow away

… blown to the winds of oblivion

You waken … and then realise that … well, it’s gone

Not just diminished. You missed that

… it’s just gone

It dispelled so silently

… like ghostly mist on a summer morning

Ephemeral but gone nonetheless

… and you cry and try to call it back, but why

The ashes of a once burning hot fire, now cold, grey dust

… cannot be relit, no rekindling will coax a flame

No phoenix will heed your call

Oh yes. Ghosts will haunt your mind

For always it seems

They mock, they wail but you pay them scant attention now

… just ghosts, phantoms of past affection.

Shades of old feeling.

And they will pass

As all things do

As love does

And the crying stops.

 

© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

Sweet Morning.

Sweet mornings sunrise

Touching my soul

Rebirth, hope again

Dark night is destroyed within me as I rise again

That black shadow of despair is lifting

The grasping claw around my mind

I feel it’s steely grip relax

I know it will be my battle, my quest to fight its death grip

But I fight with small things.

A smile here, an inner strength to nurture my dreams

And small things will win

I will win

I will be me again

Restored, reborn, renewed

I will be free.
Copyright Stan M Rogers 2017

WRITERS BLOCK.

After recent big changes in my life I need to write again but I am finding it so hard.The words are in me but I just cannot get them down on to the page. Even to open one of my unfinished works is hard.

I find myself just putting it off. Procrastination at its worst. Just finish this email and I’ll get onto it. Just clean this sink and I’ll be on the case. Just a quick sandwich and I will astonish the writing world with my new tome … But I don’t. My pages remain blank. My works in progress get staler and stalled.

It’s not that I don’t have the words, the ideas, the plots but they go no further than my mind.

I hate this.

A blank white page stares back at me

It mocks me, it scares me

So so many words … so many emotions in me

Struggling to find transition to print.

My biggest fear is to begin … to fail abysmally before I even start.

And with that awful fear I feel those beautiful thoughts trickle away

… to nothingness. To heartbreaking waste

Sometimes a few dry bones of creation flutter around still

But my mind fails to grasp them. They wither away to oblivion …

… and the page is still forever blank.

 

© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.