I step across this morning’s Shirley playing field,
curving a festooned spider’s snare.
I sigh, treading through a snails bedroom.
But it’s 7:05 en route to being late to work;
A solo crow flows through, under a half cast sky,
the Eastern fog to the Western blue.
I like to dress in black,
Hood up, listening to Chopin.
Walking through the Overground carriage,
watching myself cease to exist
As people cut eyes
And the possibility of a simple perfunctory grin.
I catch you just as you slyly slink away,
the hideously trendy homme across, next
to you – peering to our volly of glances,
His Cos demeanor cool
underpinned
by his atrocious cut chinos.
The deep rumble hurtles us along
the Victoria line -London’s blue artery,
it’s horizon a convincing night’s impression.
They were green
Or perhaps hazel
Our waltzing glances stealing covert gazes, Each a
second shy of a moment.
My love,
my mouth once knew your name.
far from these grand walls that part us,
thier spiteful spires casting a shadow
over the life of our former other.
From my minaret
to my domain I preach:
Prowess and accomplishments
-spitting
the cinders of burnt love.
From your tower I hear calls to prayer
To drink the wine of projected Perfection.
And with my jealousy concealed,
I no longer observe your commands.
Our social empires impose motionless taunts
our worlds locked in heated stalemate
unblinking,clocking each others move.
What tore us asunder?
My library knows well its history.
I a scholar…
of the downfall
of its date
of the blame.
Between us sand blew hot,
an arid gorge we created,
the empty wind lapping at our crumbling walls.
Within Our domain we’re but void caverns
-to a stale spite.
But Seasons turned, as droughts relief drips cool air,
And our cold war ceases.
Flags, doves snow afloat
-freed… In an air without heat.
We
no longer catapulting silence,
regaling all with single sided words,
salt the earth with propaganda;
searing hearts with volleys of words afire.
We
caress with hands sowing seeds of truce
All has been freed by time
Our conflict ended by fatigue;
-a perfunctory peace.
My former love,
I still wonder at your walls
Their shadows reaching my breast,
From what did our war arise?
I still recall
but no longer feel.
Thank you very much “https://motleysoul.wordpress.com/” for nominating me for this award, I’m humbled and gratfeul.
Also having never heard of this award, and having absolutely no clue what the rules are, so I looked it up (http://wordingwell.com/the-liebster-award-the-official-rules-my-first-blog-award-and-a-few-personal-secrets-revealed/) amd hopefully I accept this in the right way:
The Liebster award is given by bloggers to other up-and-coming bloggers to highlight their work and encourage them to continue.
I have been asked:
1. What/who inspired you to write?
I’ve always loved writing and so no-one person in particular “inspired” me but when of one my close friend’s got a bit more serious about it I thought I’d pursue it a bit more fervently, so began writing rants and poetry, eventually uploading it to my site.
2. What’s your day job?
During the day I’m a Sociology and Psychology teacher.
3. What’s your writing process?
I do a lot of my writing on my phone using google docs, then finishing and revising them till I’m happy with them. Alternatively I write micro poetry on my twitter (https://twitter.com/FitzDerick)
4. What’s your favorite book?
I must admit I do not have an overall favourite, though perhaps closest is “On Entering the Sea, by Nizar Qabbani”
5. What’s your favorite song?
Far too many to account for, let me see what are the 3 most played on my phone though… “Make You feel, Alina Baraz; Moules Frites, Stromae; Apparently J. Cole”.
***
My 5 nominees -in no particular order- are:
https://lockupyourpoetry.wordpress.com/
https://carolinehutchinson.wordpress.com/
https://earthtolar.wordpress.com/
https://poeticdecency.wordpress.com/
https://bluebirdanddeadcat.wordpress.com/
And to my nominees I ask:
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I hope you pass on the good will in sharing this interactive award for writing.
P.s. Sorry for the late reply 🙂 and again, thank you Mötley.
J.C. FitzDerick 