LOOK INTO ME.

Look into me.

See into my eyes, into my soul

The labyrinth of my mind

Can you tell what I am?

What I could be?

What do you see?

——–

Look into my face.

Hold it in your hands

Feel my inner heat

Touch the turmoil within.

Hear my whisper as I kiss your finger tips.

What do you feel?

——-

Put your ear to my chest.

Can you hear that?

A heart beating

… beating for you

Touch me there.

Let me feel you too.

What do you hear?

——–

Copyright Stan M Rogers 2018.

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TROUBADOUR

And the troubadour leaves…slowly

In pain…

… heart broken, a tear on his cheek

Love lost, song unheard,

He is a failure, a crying shame

Hardly worth his name.

——–

But tears dry … wounds heal

Hope can return, he knows,

… or he will when the heartache ends

For hearts mend too,

New words will be written

New verses he will sing.

——-

And he knows as he walks away

Broken dreams but…

Dreams can be renewed, they will restart

The future can change in the blink of an eye

… the beat of a vibrant heart.

——-

And so … he lifts his downcast eyes

Gazes at the cloudless sky

He picks up his pace

A smile lights his face

His trudging feet pick up pace

And the song begins again.

——

Copyright 2018 Stan M Rogers

A Single Red Rose.

Just a short story I wrote a few years ago. Enjoy.

Marie stirred from her sleep. Groggily she noticed that the bedside radio alarm clock was dark.

“Damned power cut.” she thought as she rolled over beneath the warm bed covers to make herself more comfortable. As she returned to gentle sleep again she listened to the storm outside. Rain rattled her bedroom window in waves backed up by the strong gusty winds which caused the loose guttering outside to rattle.

“Probably blown a power line down.” she thought sleepily and snuggled down further under the warm comforting blankets. The bare branches of the tree outside her bedroom rattled their leafless twigs against the window like small impatient elves trying to get in from the cold November weather outside. God knows what time it was but at least she had set her mobile phone alarm as a backup for 5:30. “Lucky.” she thought thinking of the now dead bedside clock.

She had been in bed early tonight ready for an early morning start. She had to pick Michael up from the airport. His flight arrived at 8am and she would need to be up by 5:00 to battle her way through the rush hour traffic if she wanted to be there in time for him.

 “Dear Michael.” She murmured dreamily. Michael, her lover, had been back to England visiting relatives for the past month and she longed for his return so the damned bed wouldn’t feel so lonely … scratch that she thought … so her life wouldn’t be so lonely. She missed him badly. As she slowly returned to that dreamy half state between wakefulness and sleep she could imagine his strong arms around her once more as they met at the arrivals gate. She knew they would visit the airport shops so Michael could buy her flowers. They both loved flowers, particularly roses. Sleep reclaimed her as she thought of Michael’s glowing smile.

A while later she returned to wakefulness with a start. The storm still raged outside and her clock was still dark but her attention was on the warm body beside her now in the bed. She heard a low chuckle and realised that Michael was beside her. She could feel the warmth from his body. She started to raise herself from the bed and let out a cry of surprise but his forefinger touched her lips.

“Shhh sweetheart. It’s OK. I arrived early and thought I’d surprise you.”

That light chuckle again that she knew so well. His body melded itself to hers as they kissed deeply, lovingly as only Michael could. The room was still dark so the power must still be out she thought as she felt his beautiful hands exploring her willing body. She trembled at his touch. That always happened. She could climax just from his soft gentle touch sometimes.

And so they united in passionate darkness. She could just see the outline of his dark wavy hair in the tiny amount of light from the window. Dreamily she sighed as he entered her and made sweet slow love to her so tenderly. And afterwards, contentedly, she dozed off again in a warm glow of love for her Michael. Before she slept she hugged him and whispered.

“I love you Michael. Promise you’ll never leave me.”

Returning her hug he said quietly.

“I will never leave you Marie. I will always be in your heart as you are in mine. I love you. Please never forget that.”

And as she finally succumbed to sleep again she imagined she heard Michael sob quietly.

Marie awoke to the persistent beep of her mobile phone alarm. She stretched, yawned and rolled over to see her Michael. The power must have returned as the bedside clock radio flashed at her. She would have to reset it later. But Michael wasn’t there. The other side of the bed had not been slept in. No imprint of her lovers head on the pillow. She was aware of the moistness between her legs though and smiled.

“Michael. Even when I dream of you I get turned on.”

It must have been a dream as Michael definitely hadn’t been there. Not a sign, but it had seemed so real. She swore she could still smell his cologne as well. She shrugged sadly and got up.

The storm had subsided. It was still dark outside but quietness now ruled. She even noticed that the bedroom pendulum clock had stopped during the night. No rhythmic gentle tick tock she thought and sighed sadly. Michael had bought the clock for her last year as a birthday present. She switched the bedside light noticing that it had stopped at 2:45am.

“Damn batteries need replacing.” she sighed as she threw on her dressing gown and walked through to the kitchen to prepare coffee. Her coffee first then she would shower and dress before leaving for the airport. She switched on the TV for the morning news as she readied the coffee machine. It had certainly been a stormy night and she hoped Michael’s flight wouldn’t be delayed. He was a nervous flyer at the best of times so she prayed that it hadn’t been too bumpy a flight for him either.

She busied herself with the coffee maker and half listened to the TV adverts before the news began. Yawning, she leaned back against the kitchen counter and sipped her coffee. Hot black and sweet. Just how she liked it. The TV news started.

“Reports are coming in of an air disaster.” The news anchor looked grim.

“Flight IC354 from London disappeared from radar screens without any warning this morning at 02:45 over the mid-Atlantic.”

Marie dropped her coffee and suddenly was wide awake. She felt the shaking begin as she suppressed a scream.

“That was Michael’s flight! Oh my God what has happened?”

The newsreader continued.

“Nearby ships have been diverted to the last known location of flight 1C354 and there are preliminary reports of debris and an oil slick being sighted. US Navy ships are on their way to the area now but it is unlikely that anyone could survive a disaster like this.”

“Oh Michael…”

Marie felt the tears begin. Her vision blurred and in a daze she knelt down to mop the spilled coffee, as the TV continued with other news. With forlorn sobs and unstoppable tears Marie returned to the bedroom in desolation. Suddenly she remembered her clock. The pendulum hung there unmoving and the hands were still stuck at 02:45. The time the flight had been lost. The strength in her legs gave way and Marie sank down onto Michael’s side of the bed. She sobbed uncontrollably face down on the covers and her hands reached under to try to find some vestige of Michael’s dream warmth.

“Oh Michael I really thought you were here with me.” She cried.

And she remembered his words from the dream.

“I will never leave you Marie. I will always be in your heart as you are in mine. I love you. Please never forget that.”

And then her hand felt something under the cover. She reached further under to rescue whatever it was. Marie’s silent scream became real as she saw what she held in her hand. A single blood red rose!

© 2014 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

Mundanity 2018.

In 2008 I wrote this piece. It was all about meeting the one. The one that would rescue me from mundanity. It is living poetry and has been updated quite a few times over the intervening years. You can even see some of the influences I have found along the way, Jack Kerouac being the most obvious one near the beginning of this piece. And so? Living verse … enjoy. Lots of others have.

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 careworn 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 words 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.

But maybe the time was wrong, maybe we will meet again…

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

Did mundanity go with Mid-Western dreams?

In middle America. Did my dream lie there?

No. It died there. Slowly it was strangled…

My dream died my lover.

But love warm sheets never warm again.

As warm as your ice cold lies

Latte frosted lips will kiss never again

My heart broke asunder one more time.

But you weren’t the one

And you lost me. You lost love

And I lost mundanity again at last.

Oh, my lover. You tease me so.

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

Maybe it has already

Or maybe cruel fate will forever keep us apart.

© 2018 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

Unknown Love.

I wrote this one evening last week at a bar in Cyprus while watching a Neil Diamond tribute singer. It was a great night but the need to put this down just came out of the blue and this is probably the first piece I have even written on my Razer Smartphone. It could probably do with some editing but it’s just about seeing a face on the street that you’d like to know, fell in love with for a fleeting second before they are gone.

Girl.

We walked opposite sides

Different streets

Just looking ahead

Our faces never met

Our hearts only bled.

And what a life we could…

… Have led.

But know. We never met

In the middle of the road

And now … unshed tears

… At what could have been

If we’d ever met,

But we walked different sides

We found our love elsewhere

We never knew our own.

You know…

… The one we never knew

… never discovered,

… Never knew

Never imagining we could have been

We said goodbye

Before we even said hello.

… To all we never had

And just the wrong turn of a card

Dice that landed a different way

And we walked on by.

Copyright Stan M Rogers 2018

When Giants Ruled The World.

I remember those days fondly

… when giants ruled the world

Before small men imagined greatness

In their paltry small selves

Now lies become rules

Words become laws … unwritten or not

Sagas become mere tales

No deeds, no poetry, no soul and what is the cost?

We gave up our dreams

… all is now lost

Now men rule the world

…

Tears well up as I remember

… when giants ruled the world

When anything was possible

Giants made it so

They slew dragons, drank flagons, battled the foe

Laws were made to be broken in jest

Rules could be changed

To whatever was best

But this world has lost magic

… since giants left the world

No more stories

… no beauty in words

Men have become as beasts

Lost in great herds

Oh gods forgive us for what we have done

For losing those giants, for dimming the sun

They have long left this world, and sadder it is

…

The page, unwritten sits before me still

Just one sentence, one word

One letter, one thought

Released like a bird

But none come. None inspired

None magical

I’m just tired

I’ll pull down those castles with banners unfurled

I’ll cry to empty heavens

… why did giants leave the world?

 

© 2014 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

On the way to Cyprus.

Well I am finally on the way to Northern Cyprus, which is the Turkish part. I know very little about Cyprus so it really will be an adventure for me. It will also be interesting to see if any of my writing/poetry can make the transition to becoming lyrics and be put to music. I do hope so and the next week or so here will tell.

But today has been quite a pain in the ass for me. I woke at 4am which isn’t that unusual but couldn’t get back to sleep and so up I got.i was showered, packed and ready to go three hours before my taxi turned up and time passed very slowly until my friend Lawrie arrived. He is my usual airport driver and was surprised that I was going to Stansted rather than my usual Heathrow.

But eventually I was on my way and I arrived safely and way too early.And so it began. I went to check in after an hour of hanging about. A huge queue welcomed me at the check in desk, I groaned inwardly especially when they started playing musical chairs with the desks. One minute I was queued at the Cobalt airlines desk until all of a sudden it became the Air Moldova desk. Wonderful how they do that.

Now for years I have been going to the USA and even the Seychelles by scheduled carriers all inclusive and my first surprise when I finally got to the front of the queue was that I had to pay extra for my suitcase… bloody 40 quid too, and I could not even pay for it there. I had to wander around like a lost lamb until I found the place where I could pay the extra. Then back to the queue…arghhhh!

Next was the security check and boy did I need a beer by now. More huge queues and by the time I got through problem free luckily, time was just starting to get a bit tight. Stansted has a surprisingly big shopping mall and it snakes on and on and on until you find a watering hole. As usual there was a queue. And the WiFi didn’t work… and I could barely get a signal on my phone which was proving problematic for talking to my lovely friend. Double arghhhh!

My lovely friend by the way is a lady I have met up with three times now and we seem to go from strength to strength every time. I do like her so very much and in fact I feel quite sad that I am leaving her for a couple of weeks to be here. I so wish she could have come with me, but hey ho. We have other wonderful things planned in the near future. I look forward to them but anyway, due to Stansted’s abysmal communications I found it difficult to even send WhatsApp messages. As I said. Double arghhhh!

And so with time starting to get tight I swallow a quick G&T and head off to my gate which turns out to be about 90 miles away entailing a train journey. Man I just manage to squeeze, sardine like into the small coffin like compartment when a message comes over that the bloody thing has broken down. And people continue to pile in. I can hardly breathe. I can’t even turn round and I swear someone is squeezing my bum.Triple arghhhhhhh!.

But after about ten minutes the problem gets sorted and we are off. I get dropped off at my stop and make my way to my gate… brilliant. Fifteen minutes to spare. And bugger it, I watch disconsolately as I see my plane only just arriving. I find out it will be about an hour late leaving. I feel like committing Hari Kiri by now but I try hard and put on my patient face and eventually I am on my way.

And that is how you find me as I write this. Somewhere over Eastern Europe having just entered some damned turbulence. Hopefully we are only about an hour out now. Time to buckle up and knock back my wine as I ride the bucking bronco.

Toddle pip.

Stan M Rogers