Shifting Sands
Blinding white light,
Bedazzled walls,
Room with a view,
Top of the world.
Attic visions of the bare trees of winter.
Budgerigars screech discordantly,
Arboretum freezing below.
Moving in - flat.
Moving out - home
Heart bobbing like a cork,
On a tidal wave of tears.
All things must change;
Better or worse.
I just don't know.
The shifting sands drawing me in.
Avoiding recklessness -
Welcoming love.
Rejecting fear,
Coming up for air,
Riding the storm,
Not fighting it anymore.
Tomorrow is first day,
of the rest of my life.
Hope the quicksand will
Allow me my dreams.
Washed out nostalgia,
Sepia visions of nine years,
In gilded frames,
Its time to break out,
with a whisper not a shout,
Rocky the cat just looks bored
and yawns on my single bed,
With not a care in the world.
Tony Fisher
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Is It Wrong?
Is it wrong to want you just for me
To feel your warmth, entirely
To wake from sleep right by your side
And see you there, deep in the night
Is it bad to want to say I care
Without the words inside my head
Inside I know you feel it too
This madness made for me and you
Here where I sit I feel breathless, I feel sick
With the thought that I’m falling into
What this is I do not know
I’ve never been here
I’ll never go
Away
Is it wicked to need you here
To take your hand and put me there
Inside your arms, into your charms
And feel secure beside your heart
Is it insanity to feel this good
Then lock me up and lose the key
Relationships, they cause me pain
So what is this? Psychosis?
Here where I sit I feel breathless, I feel sick
With the thought that I’m falling into
What this is I do not know
I’ve never been here
I’ll never go
Away
In this room, inside the night
These thoughts in my mind run through my bed
I know this thing I’m falling into
I want this thing I’m falling into
You
Rachel Studley © 2003
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Ward 37
Keith shambles
loves custard
poured petrol over himself
and lit it
the scars mark his throat
like a turkey’s
Cath is alert
feeds herself through a tube in her neck
smokes Dunhill constantly
never sleeps since they stopped giving her the pills
Bill is tall
has cropped hair
and is camp as disco
he pushes me round the grounds in a wheel-chair
and buys me fruit pastilles
Lena is small
cheerful
says it only takes two ciders to make her tiddly
plays trivial pursuit with me
to keep my mind off things
Jo Twist © 2003 |
