Poetry
Herein lies all the poems I have written, seperate from the regular blog posts.
The Champion
Dawn breaks, the champion wakes,
readies himself for whatever awaits
for him in the course of this bright sunny day
he does not know it will not stay.
Attatches his sword, and hops on his horse,
ready to confront evil with unstopable force.
Rides south to the shore and the wild rough seas,
and a foul tasting smell tainting the breeze.
Arrives at the mouth of a deep damp dark cave,
for someone to enter they must have been brave.
Brave’s what he was for a champion was he
but it wasn’t something you chose to be.
Fate picked him as soon as his lungs filled with air,
no chance to protest - fate did not care.
As our chamion treads lightly over the stone,
fighting for his land and his home.
Sees his enemy, set in his sight
and with a great battle cry - begins the fight.
Many parries and dodges and slashes ensue,
waiting for the time to undo
their enemy down from their head to their toe.
One false move and his blood shall then flow.
The battle is over, the champion has won,
but the real victor is none,
for the many hard battles over all of the years
and having to go on facing too many fears
have taken their dreadful and deadly toll,
but now he’s acheived his most ultimate goal.
As he lies on the floor - although writhing in pain -
his main focus is on what he soon will gain.
All through his life he’s had to be best
and now that it ends, he may finaly rest.
~Peter T.B.~
His Room
A single lamp, a single screen
is all that illuminates this night-time dream
The blinds are shut and kept closed tight
to stop onlookers seeing this sight
Unmade bed and messy floor
rubbish fills up every draw
One lone figure sitting tight
thinking, longing, all the night
A million thoughts rush through his mind
of each and every single kind
His room his safe place in the world
Until that day when he is hurled
Out to see his life unfurled
~Peter T.B.~
Natural Crack
Stillness; the bug with wings hovers in the air.
Movement; a worm-like moth flutters without care.
Rushing; the river flows springing from nowhere.
Tiny actors play their parts in the corner of the stage,
when the darting bird dances on - beauty without age.
All this magical movement, trapped within a cage.
Busy city chaos, cars and sirens roar.
Buildings, fences, windows, walls, more more more
And all the people blinded, behind a closed door.
But the show will never stop, the dance continues clear
and how I wish that you could see this spectacle right here.
A natural crack in a man-made world, I hold it oh so dear.
~Peter T.B.~
A Troublesome Trinity - Part 1 - The Question
We’re best friends, and that’s amazing
but there’s something more to this scene than meets the eye
or the heart or the mind,
an ambiguous meeting of two persons,
each the other’s completing and competing half.
The words that describe you in my mind:
“Both a blessing and a curse”
What’s worse is the not knowing, in-between.
I’m sat in the middle of hope and doubt,
something I could do without,
this purgatory of emotion.
At times you play the greater part,
next second almost break my heart - but never truly,
it’s not true until it’s told by you.
The risk of failure seems too high,
rather sit half-on than fall and die.
But that’s no life to live at all.
So here I stand and say, one last time,
face to face this time,
no faltering, no change of pace,
no phone to die removing a reply,
no time to leave and ponder till
the question fades into a dark recess of the mind.
Time now for an answer,
fast from the heart,
quick off the start.
Is our love as more than friends?
Do you want to be with me?
Answer now my dear I plea,
yes or no. Both free me.
~Peter T.B.~
A Troublesome Trinity - Part 2 - The Romance
Oh you. You know who I’m talking to,
you saw me though - everything.
For years we’ve been getting closer
and closer until WHAM!
Planets collide,
you’re on my side.
My magical, high momentum meteorite of love.
Meeting me in the middle of moss and
mangled roots - that contact point
where sparks flew, and I joined them,
flying to the outer reaches of the atmosphere,
not caring about the distance to the ground
because I was with you my dear,
and we would cover it together.
How often is it that something like that occurs?
I’m no astrologer, but I’ll bet it’s not a common comet.
Just like you - not all that common.
A rare gem, hidden in the depths of the earth
with properties no scientist could figure out.
A shining ray of light and beauty, while also having
that complex molecular structure, the inner workings that
none can fully understand.
In writing, I seem to have strayed. So I’ll keep to the core.
You. You. You.
Your hair of gold, glimmering like a Goddess,
a gentle curl, crafted out by grace itself over millenia,
each strand deserving it’s own epic.
The thickness, giving me something firm to hold on to,
telling me, “Boy, you’re not dreaming any more.”
Score!
And what’s more, your smile - oh I would walk the long mile
to see that - lifting the clouds and dark thoughts that try to
invade the world away. Replacing them with joy;
pure, honest happiness that lives to see
the broken fixed,
the hungry fed
and the lost found.
But that’s skipping ahead of the rest of your head!
The diamonds you stole, and placed as
the windows to your soul
shine with such brilliance,
covering the bad things that they have seen
with innocent hope and bright ideas
that threaten to outshine the sun.
Your delicate nose, oh heaven knows that
when I think of it, all I can see is yours
touching mine - connecting us - like two otters
caught in a storm, knowing that if each
holds on to the other, all will be well
when the gods calm the swell.
In each of these words is unabashed truth,
I hope you don’t think me uncouth,
My Ruth.
~Peter T.B.~
