Cemetery Tale

Originally posted in our shrine of spookiness Shadows Time here is a poem written by Dominic, who now pens his prose over at the Poetry Shelf, so you can go read it there as well.

Severn Beach

Even more desolate than a seaside town out of season is a seaside town that’s never in season, and the poem below about Severn Beach, once a popular seaside resort – alas no more – captures that sense of forsaken melancholy perfectly. This rather pensive piece of prose comes from our amazing Dominic – who has branched out with a blog of his own so check out: Poetry Shelf for more poems and discussion on all things lyrical.

Out on Severn Beach

Out on Severn Beach

The shingle feels the rain

set upon forgotten earth

away from all that’s sane,

the sky frustrates the light

dictating moods below

the bridges’ shadow casts across

that takes away the glow,

voices pass through the air

then descend in to the sea

nothing lasts to tell a soul

nor pass the words to me,

pity takes the evening

when the dormant sleep

for pity stalks the coastal path

where it earns its keep.

Dominic

 

Rain

Rain falls upon us

the ground soaked beneath our feet;

lets hope the sun comes up.

by Dominic

 

Noticed

Within my gaze are things I’ve never found

upon the ground, often with no sound

across the road that lies within my touch

there isn’t much, that doesn’t seem as such,

by the water across a sandy shore

what’s been before, what won’t happen any more,

fields of golden brown the bakers’ favourite wheat

under my feet, it feels a hidden treat,

laughter amongst family and closest friends

the wounds it mends, the gloom that it transcends,

by day a path and night a mystery

as what we see and what it means to me.

By Dominic

 

Bench

Lining paths across our commons

facing out to sea,

offering the fatigued mass a

place at once to be.

To all a seat of comfort

but it can be more,

loved ones gone but not forgotten

by the sandy shore,

on top of hill tops in the downs

in parks and cemeteries,

around town squares, in beer gardens

beneath wheezing trees.

For me a chance to glance surroundings

whilst others share discourse,

sweet nothings shared amongst laughter

before the strained divorce.

By Dominic

George

 

George was different

to others, like the way he

walked and strangely

stroked his hair,

he muttered in muffled tones

whilst avoiding other’s

glare, bless our George. This

made others wonder why

he seemed so distant what

did he ponder, on and on

this went and then at school

the others thought who’s

the fool, what’s the

story with George?

So they poked him, laughed

and pulled his hair and hid

his scarfe, he’d look upset

they didn’t care. Then

came the punches the

kicks and slaps during

lunches, no mercy shown

the barrage rained on!

In fear George fled

but the others came and

battered him till he bled,

till nothing more was said

by poor old George.

 

by Dominic.

 

 

Morning

There’s two tasty titbits of verse for the price of one this week, both courtesy of our rhymer in residence, Dominic.

The morning

The morning comes and takes its place,

Then asks us all to rise,

To work and not a moments haste,

This comes as no surprise,

For yesterday it was the same,

And the day before,

Tomorrow it will come again,

And then for evermore,

Yet each time I crave my bed,

Not the morning rush,

Surrounded by the living dead,

All sitting in a hush,

But if I try and sleep all day,

My job will be at risk,

I’ll see an end to steady pay,

And find myself dismissed,

So I must accept my fate,

Go off to wash and dress,

Leave the house before I’m late,

Along with all the rest.

city morning sky

 

Poetry Shelf

As purveyors of fine fiction, we at Thee Nook have decided to start a regular new poetry blog. This weeks poem is from our friend,the very talented Dominic. The photo’s his as well.

Goodbye cruel world:

I can’t take anymore,

I know I have no worth,

Nor offer any mirth,

I am now such a bore,

I won’t be number one,

No love comes my way,

No luck will ever stay,

I am now done,

I’ll leave this earth,

Take refuge in my grave,

Oblivion for the brave,

No more pitiless mirth,

It comes to pass,

The comfort of my death,

One more maddening breath,

And then my last.