Sand

Sand

Born feet first, not head first

Only loved two people in her life, both have broken her heart,

Hates wearing shoes

Sand

Before,

We learn how to walk,

We crawl first,

Before we talk,

We gaggle,

Before we swim freestyle,

We use the floats,

We do doggy style,

Before we make it,

We fake it.

Things are first,

And things are second,

Not,

Because we want them,

Because it just happens,

And that was how it,

Occurred,

With her,

Landing feet first,

Walking,

Before talking,

Freestyling,

Before faking,

Her head,

Coming a dead last,

She was destined,

To be that walker,

Jumping,

Leaping,

Acting,

Like as if,

On a bad Arnie day,

Thinking,

Was something,

For later,

While,

She was floating,

Drifting through,

The air,

Looking below,

Despair,

Reading her mind,

Landing,

Her fist clenched,

Like the terminator,

Waking with his gun,

Hunting for,

Young Miss Sarah.

A lesson needs to learned,

Until,

It’s made perfect,

Until,

That stupid,

Fool has learnt it,

Loving,

Is an easy thing do,

Like buttering hot toast,

On a cold day,

So many people,

Love,

Yet,

So many people,

Don’t love back,

Finding that love,

Is harder,

Like,

Dipping into the peanut butter jar,

Scooping out a lot,

Only to look down,

And see,

It’s marmite,

Not wanting to waste,

Spreading it light,

Cooking more toast,

Pulling that cheese,

Out of the fridge,

Gifting it to the marmite,

Easing,

The taste,

Being in love,

Two hearts,

Becoming one,

Is harder yet,

Like,

Taking that diaper,

Of that baby,

His sweet sweet aroma,

Filling your nose,

That diaper smell,

Is not forgotten,

It’s not the best part,

Of this task,

But,

That warmth,

That natural love,

Is what makes,

That diaper changing,

A little,

A tiny break easy,

Like that diaper,

Her heart,

Was meant to be changed,

Numbers,

Are,

Just another way of counting,

Breaking,

Is just another way of mending,

Living,

Isn’t just waiting to die,

Loving,

Isn’t something to be afraid of,

Being afraid,

Shouldn’t be a reason,

Not to love,

Loving,

With eyes wide open,

With diamonds,

Dazzling from her eyes,

Is the only way to be,

For to fear,

Is to be like,

That little boy,

Who teases,

And taunts,

The young girls,

Who boldly,

Pushes,

The young boys

To the ground,

When they walk away,

Holding that special hand,

When in his there is air,

That little boy,

Braving it off,

Pretending,

Like nothing else matters,

Loving is another way,

Of sharing,

Of joining in unison,

Breaking,

Is simply mending,

Finding,

Another,

New,

Better,

Exciting.

Way.

There’s nothing like,

That feeling,

Of walking into the supermarket,

And stepping into something wet,

Something clear,

Yet,

A little yellow,

Toes,

Splishing,

Splashing

Shaking,

Heels,

Picking up the pace,

Eyes picking out,

Any other wet spots,

Navigating a track,

Around them,

Shoes were made,

To protect

And to serve,

Shoes were made,

To avoid,

Those little puddles,

On the floor,

But,

She’d rather take that risk,

A prick,

Or a dip,

Is welcomed to her,

Her hardened sole,

She entices danger,

She spreads it,

On her bread,

With her freshly made,

Jam,

Free is where she wants to be,

Cool,

Out in the open dust,

Breathing,

In the fresh,

Not soaking,

Inside that old brown sock,

Trapped within a cage,

All sweaty,

All stinky,

All stiffy,

Free,

Like they were born,

Landing first,

With her head behind,

Loving two,

Mending,

Not breaking,

Her toes,

Playing in the fresh,

Hot,

Golden sand.

Glass

Glass

Wine

Lamb chops

Horse

Glass

That bottle of white wine,

Sits half empty in his fridge,

That carton of red wine,

Sits half full,

On his kitchen table,

Those lamb chops,

Sit half used,

In his freezer,

Those horses,

Sit half attended too,

In their stables,

He’s lost the desire,

The drive,

To pull that bottle,

Out of its shelf,

And pour it.

Into a glass,

He’s lost the need,

To empty that wine,

Into the glass,

Sitting below it,

He’s lost the hunger,

To see,

Those, who love him the most,

The wine,

All alone,

Waiting for another chance,

To share,

Its fruitiness,

Its sharpness,

Its boundless,

Energy,

To share,

With someone who cares,

It’s not like,

He doesn’t want to,

Its just he doesn’t see the point,

But,

Such a waste,

Of those precious coins,

So it sits there,

And waits,

To spill a drop,

Sharing,

Its endless joys,

With that special,

One,

Who it belongs to,

That special one,

Who isn’t thirsty,

Yet,

Will,

Swirl it around,

Slowly releasing it,

Pleasures,

Like the sun,

Waking up the seeds

At dawn,

Will be known,

And that waiting,

Alone on the cold shelf,

And on the warm table,

Will have all been done,

In jest,

Because,

Its she,

Who he,

Has been waiting for.

That ice,

On those four walls,

Have been a bit chilly,

Sitting in there,

With the scraps,

Waiting to go out,

Even to the pig bucket,

On the first floor,

Would be a better journey,

Then sitting here,

Alone with the cubes,

Constantly disappearing

Going to dance,

With Jack,

Or Jim,

Reappearing,

But this time,

A little wet, a little shaky,

They long,

To go for a dip,

And mix with some juice,

Browning,

Tenderizing,

Those long red legs,

That huge red heart,

They whist,

To mix with green,

And red,

And white,

And orange,

And yellow,

Stretching out,

On that big wide bed,

Giving all its glory,

Being admired,

For its beautiful body,

Ready,

To be used,

What

For its reason for living,

Ready,

To be used for,

Its reason for existing,

Ready,

To mingle,

With its friend,

Chilling on the shelf,

Ready to mingle,

With its friend,

Warming on the table,

Ready,

To be used,

To fulfill,

The pleasures,

It was destined for.

They are there,

Not for him,

Not before him,

Not for anything,

To do with him,

Yet they are there,

He feels sick,

He feels alone,

He just doesn’t feel,

Like he’s that bowl,

Of just right without them,

He tries to break away,

He tries to leave them,

Yet,

He just can’t,

That knife,

Stabs him,

Deep within his heart,

When he’s not around them,

Suddenly,

Food,

Water,

Become to swallow,

When he realizes,

He won’t be near them,

He needs them,

As much,

As he needs air to breath,

He’ll sneak up to them,

Give them a pat on the head,

A rub on the back,

A hug around the neck,

He’ll put his hand in their mouth,

He’ll sit beneath their chest,

He’ll lie against their belly,

All dirty on the ground,

He’ll give them a kiss,

Right between their eyes,

He’ll give them a kiss,

Right smack on their lips,

He’ll whisper,

To them,

His greatest secrets,

His greatest fears,

He’ll whisper to them,

His greatest joys,

Those moments,

Where the happiness drips,

From his eyes,

He’ll talk to them,

They listening,

Intently,

Like the cat,

Resting on his lap,

Back when he was young,

They’ll take it all in,

They turn to rock,

As he turns to butter,

Melting away,

Under their intense heat,

They know,

All his secrets,

He can’t hide from them,

They know,

That although,

He has his moments,

And for reasons,

That only they know,

He won’t rear his head,

Won’t open his heart,

For a while,

They know,

That when he does,

He will be theirs again,

Like he always was,

He knows,

That four years,

Has been to short,

They know,

That they have grown,

He knows,

He’s soft on them,

Too soft,

To get angry,

And give them work,

They know,

He’s their play dough,

Molding,

Making,

New strange shapes,

He knows,

That those four,

Have been the best part,

Of why he’s stayed,

They know,

That,

It’s more then,

Just the original four,

He knows,

Like them,

He spreads his love around,

Although,

Those four will always,

Take the top rings,

In the ladder,

That is his heart,

They know,

That the time will come,

The time will end,

And he will once more,

Desire,

One he can call his own,

Like he did,

Before,

In another life,

Although,

That special one,

Was a little smaller,

Sleeping with him in bed,

They know,

That the time will come,

That the time will end,

And that he will once more,

Desire,

One he can call his own,

Like he did before,

And took a dive,

Took a fly,

And landed in their lair,

They know,

That day,

When he was,

Kicking the stones,

Looking for a bar,

Finding a club,

Of the four legged sort,

Was the day,

That would never end.

He knows,

They are the glow,

That is his sun.

That wine,

Chilling,

On the shelf,

Warming on the table,

That lamb,

Spread out on the bed,

All dressed in green,

Those horses,

Resting,

Rolling over in the hay,

Harbor,

Stories from yesterday,

Living in the day,

Waiting,

To share,

And give the love,

For tomorrow.

Cup

Cup

Kiwi,

Poem,

Horse,

Cup,

He’s small,

Brown,

And cute,

He likes to stick his long nose,

Into everything,

That isn’t his,

And everything,

That is,

His,

Beady little eyes,

Staring out,

Looking in,

Hiding,

Beneath that bush,

Afraid of the sun,

Afraid of being too bright,

He likes to walk around at night,

All by himself,

Pecking at the worms,

Eating all the bugs,

Cleaning,

His nest,

When no ones around,

When no one can see,

He likes to be noticed,

He likes to be seen,

But,

He doesn’t take the

Admiration too well,

Leaving that,

For those who deserve it,

Those who work harder,

Clean tidier,

Who,

Unlike him,

Really gleam,

Out in that hot sun,

He likes,

Doing the work,

That nobody does best,

He likes,

His feet close to the ground,

His nose in the sand,

He likes an education,

He likes these situations,

Yet,

He sees others,

Who are more worthy,

More daring,

So,

Like the good little,

Brown thing he is,

Knowing,

He’s a star,

Yet,

Admonishing the admiration,

He keeps his feet,

Firmly planted on the ground.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Yet he doesn’t have you,

There was a ball,

Rolling down the hall,

About to fall,

When Paul,

Ran up,

To it,

With his cup,

He made it sit still,

In his hand,

A bitter pill,

To swallow,

When it was about to land,

In that tiny hallow,

Within the wood,

He thought,

What should,

He do?

Where will he go,

So he had a poo,

As he went to show,

His dear old mummy,

Just what a big,

Bad dummy,

Wearing a wig,

He was.

He knows them,

Better than he knows his best mate,

They know him better,

Then they know their master,

He knows,

He’s not that great,

They know,

That it doesn’t matter,

He knows,

That when he found them,

He was trapped,

Like that rat in that cage,

They know,

That,

When they met,

He would never be like a tree,

And leave,

He knows,

They are the reason he stays in Korea,

They know,

He will always be that brick in their wall,

Solid,

Staying strong, in their ground,

Until,

That typhoon comes,

And blows him down.

My blog

Hi,
and thank you for spending the time to look at my blog.
you will see on my more recent poems,
there are 3 things at the start,
this is because I have said to my friends to tell me 3 things about them, and give me a photo, so i have a visual stimulus, or i will look at their photo on facebook,
Then I write a poem from those three things,
the original I send to the subject,
then i repost it here, and I change the name, so they can keep their annoynmity,
so noone should ever know who the poem is about.

Please become a follower, you can do this by joining my site, on the top right corner,
you should use your gmail account to do this.

In the earlier posts here, prior to August 2012,
you will see my travel journal from my great Malaysian. Brunei, Indonesian, Singapore trip,

and the earlier posts before that are random stories and poems,

and theres a few from when I was at university, and before.

My hope is to get published sometime.

Soon, I will open a new blog, that will have the book that I have been writing, its not complete and not edited yet, but if you comment on that, I hope I will be able to improve my structure, and the course of the book.

Please comment on this blog,
your comments are appreciated, hopefully I will be able to grow from what you say.

Thanks for looking,
Poetry, not in Motion.

Sparkle

Sparkle

Wants to be a good man

Must be a success with the horse business

Satisfied with his love

Sparkle

He sits there,

Doesn’t know where he’s going tomorrow,

The dawn rising,

The dusk setting,

He’s in his chair,

Rocking,

Back and forth,

What is it that he wants,

What is it that bugs him the most,

As much as he tries,

He can’t try hard enough,

He’ll pick up a baby,

When it’s crying,

Alone in bed,

He’ll lie by that foal,

In the hay,

Sleeping with it,

When it’s been freed,

From those motherly bonds,

He’ll throw a rope,

Down that bank,

Heaving,

And pulling,

That lamb,

Freeing that lamb,

Stuck in the mud,

He in his chair,

Rocking,

Back and forth,

His walking stick,

On his side,

Pondering,

If he could have done enough,

Wondering,

How to make that river flow,

Pondering,

How,

To turn a trickle,

Into a gush,

Spreading out,

Making brown,

Turn green,

He’s in his chair,

Rocking back,

And forth,

His walking stick at his side,

Thinking,

Of how to save,

All those poor animals,

Outside,

Fighting against the wind,

And the rain,

Battling,

The typhoon,

While he’s,

Stuck inside,

His girl,

At his feet,

Looking up at him,

Patting his hand,

Reassuring him,

That,

For now,

All he can be,

Is he,

And where he belongs,

Is there,

With his girl at his feet.

He thinks,

That maybe it’s true,

That maybe,

He really isn’t enough,

That maybe this business,

Is just too tough,

That,

That old man,

Over in the corner,

That young heart,

In the other,

That captain,

Resting back on his laurels,

And that musician,

Strumming his violin,

His,

Foundation stones,

His building blocks,

Those reasons,

He got going,

Those reasons he stays,

He ought to be more loyal,

To them,

Yet,

He’s afraid,

He hasn’t done enough,

He knows,

They love him,

He knows,

They are his backbone,

Yet,

He’s worried,

Can he show them his skills,

Can he combine,

His power,

His charisma,

And challenge,

Those who say he cannot,

Proving,

That odds,

Are worth the bet,

That his casino,

Is the one with,

That lucky winning streak.

Some people,

Are lucky to have a dozen,

Some people,

Are lucky to have a few,

Some people,

Are unlucky to have none,

Some people,

Hear the birds and the bees,

Some people

See the world,

Some people

Are have none,

Some people

Fly through the skies,

Some people

Ride through the fields,

Some people

Have none,

Yet,

He has it all,

He doesn’t need,

That dozen,

He doesn’t need,

That few,

He doesn’t need,

To see,

The world,

He doesn’t need,

To hear the birds and the bees,

He doesn’t need,

To fly through the skies,

He doesn’t need,

To ride through the fields,

For,

He has all he needs,

He has that one,

Who sparkles,

When he wakes,

That one,

Who shines,

When he sleeps,

He has that one,

Who gives him,

Happy dreams,

Scaring away,

All those monsters,

Deep at night.

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Apple pie

Apple Pie

Korean

Maroon 5

Spiderman

Apple Pie

They are old,

They are steeped in History,

They have been conquered,

They have conquered,

Their land,

Is that land,

People have fought over,

Countries have warred over,

It is the one land,

That people want the most,

It is that one land,

That stands out amongst the rest,

It is that one land,

That people flock to,

Yet,

It is that one land,

That people find hard to escape,

Their men,

Are strong and tough,

Yet,

Their facial features,

That body,

Painting a story,

Are something,

Not to be written about,

However,

Its not all bad news,

That typhoon hasn’t hit,

Not just yet,

Those women,

Oh My God,

Wow!

Those women,

Leave stories,

Of broken hearts,

Of opportunities missed,

Of a life wanted,

In their warm embrace,

Those women,

Are the reason why,

So many wars,

Were made,

And so many wars,

Were lost,

Those women,

Those apples,

In every man’s eyes,

Their long black hair,

Their soft brown skin,

Their skinny peach lips,

Their tight,

Fit

Bodies,

Those women,

Are the reason,

Why every man smiles,

When they are near,

Why every man,

Knows in his heart,

That all he wants

For Christmas is them,

They,

Stand tall,

They stand proud,

They work like a miner,

Deep within the earth,

Yet,

They receive a pittance,

Like a Mcdonalds,

Team member,

Their life,

In those concrete cages,

Is little to be desired,

Unless it be,

Out on those mountain tops,

Singing with the rain,

In the weekends,

Unless it be,

Hanging,

With their mates,

Sitting around,

That BBQ table,

Eating samgoebsal,

Or devouring pajeon,

Swigging maekoli,

Shotting soju,

They are a strong,

Resolute people,

Who want to be anywhere,

But there,

Yet,

Those women,

Wow,

Oh My God!

What a delight!

She’s a beauty queen,

She moves like Mick Jagger,

She will be loved,

She feels beautiful,

He doesn’t mind spending every day,

Out in the rain waiting for her,

He waits to catch her,

His arms open wide,

He doesn’t mind waiting for her,

He doesn’t mind the rain,

He doesn’t mind,

Waiting,

For her,

Dancing like Mick Jagger,

His legs,

Grooving,

His body,

Shaking,

His arms,

Flying,

Taking off,

To a new generation,

She dreams,

Of just him,

And her,

Together,

Shifting gears,

Going like this,

Going like that,

Her hair,

Moving through the air,

She wants know,

How to make him smile,

Head to toe,

She wants to know,

How to make him smile,

From ear to ear,

And, it makes her wonder,

If,

She could find,

That one,

Just like him.

Batman,

He’s got his machines,

He can fly high,

And dive deep,

He can,

Call on his old mate,

Mr Wayne,

Throwing a few more dollars,

Into his cave,

Superman,

He can stare you down,

See through you,

See what you’re thinking,

Call on his old mate Mr Kent,

Reaching for his glasses,

Majestically,

Getting the latest daily inside gossip,

On the planet,

Ah,

But these guys,

They are just boys,

They’re not like,

That one,

That true hero,

Who, didn’t choose,

Who didn’t have spare time,

Who didn’t have a dime,

That hero,

Chose him,

Knew,

That this was the one,

The true hero,

No plastic to be had here,

That bite,

Transformed,

And grew,

A seed,

Into a tree,

No special gadgets required here,

No space journeys here,

Just him,

And his webbed ways,

Lightning speed,

A gallant brain,

A choice,

Not wanted,

But,

Taken,

When,

That poor old man,

Was shot,

Outside his car,

On that rainy day,

He is to the rest of us,

That hero,

Who is truly self made,

That hero,

Girl cry over,

And men,

Fume over,

All dressed up,

In red and black,

His biceps rippling out,

He is that hero,

With his camera,

Like Kodak,

Brilliantly,

Capturing that,

Magic moment,

Brilliantly capturing,

Those hearts,

With his daring deeds,

Brilliantly,

Capturing,

That magic moment,

Returning to his Aunty’s house,

Just in time for apple pie.