Posted in Creative Writing, Keats, Literature, Poetry, Sex, Writing

The Stardust Lover 

(Sequel to lover at the other side of the road)

You gazed at me today , your eyes a lit with stars, blue ,twinkling. Your glance never left, my body on fire with a cool sheen of bliss. I could  feel the stardust bouncing, sending an electric buzz along my spine like dancing sparks. 

I felt your heart echo like thunder,its’ sound  like raindrops tapping on a metallic roof.Splitting  me in two. When you smiled doves escaped your lips , ,sending me branches of miseltoe and palms making me feel as if I found my missing peace of land floating in the abyss. 

Your speech an intoxicating wine ,my head dizzy with ecstasy which you never once tried to sober. Dreaming of what may become of us once our hands became intertwined ivy. Or the days spent roaming  in the garden whilst you explored my  flowery rose bed ,the dew on the petals as fresh as the morning sunrise. The droplets causing the tree to awaken and  rise to the heavens.  

And when the pains of our labours finally hit my stomach after spending days on my knees ,you’ll hold me in your arms and take the pain away your moonlit breath rocking me into a calm ,tender sleep. 

My lover made of stardust.

Posted in Atonement, blogging, Britishness, Creative Writing, Dead, Emotions, English Literature, Fall, Heartbreak, Literature, Remembrance, Soldier, War, Writing

March To The Cenotaph

Today I attended a remembrance service, my grandad fought in the second world war and died in August this year. My Grandad wrote poetry inspired by his experience during the war , here is  one of them.

Who are these men? These quiet men ,       Who march with their heads held high,             With the band a-playing and Standards flying,                                                                           They march so proudly by.

They march to pay their quiet respect,            To the comrades they saw die,                             Midst shot and shell at the gates of Hell,           With their utmost they did try,  To save the world for anarchy their sole and single aim     But so many stayed in foreign lands, forever to remain.

These are the men who fought in tanks ,           And are of many ranks,                                           For an Eighty-eight could see no stripe or crown,                                                                           As it brought death and horror down.

So these quite man, who march today,              And think of days gone by,                                    Will think of friends long passed away ,            And say a sad Good-bye.

Don Faulkner

48th R.I.R

Posted in Creative Writing, Emotions, English Literature, Fall, Free Verse, Literature, Nature, Photography, Poetry, Seasons, Sunrise, Writing

Sunrise

Like a yawning bird,

Spreading its wings through a cloudless sky,

A child reaching for its mother,

Waking up the nesting birds,

Your golden haze  silhouetting blackened trees,

Whose bones are bare.

You stretch through the branches,

touching  your awaiting audience spreading a rosy glow to their cheeks.

A beaming smile to their faces.

Day is finally here.

A beacon of hope .

Of new beginnings.

And light.

Sunrise.

Posted in blogging, Creative Writing, English Literature, Heartbreak, Literature, Love, Memories, Monologue, Poetry, Relationships, Self image, Stories, Writing

Lover at the opposite side of the road

Lover at the opposite side of the road..

God , there’s so many things I want to say to you right now.

How the sight of you makes me dizzy, makes my head spin wildly like a glitter ball on constant. Even on your darkest days or the time when you walked into the lecture hungover with a black eye I found presence beautiful like a glowing angel, my eyesight not affected by the flaws in your facial appearance.Or what other people would consider facial flaws. Like your huge forehead for instance to me ,it’s not huge, to me it shows your capacity for knowledge.

 What secrets lie inside there. What do you think when you look at me? Do you find my fried egg boob’s attractive or are you put off by the size. Do you even look there and even if or when you do you shouldn’t! It’s not gentlemanly of you. Do you ever think about me stripped naked? Would you like me to be naked in front of you , lying. Our skin pressed together , feeling our heartbeats intertwined. You skin would feel like gold to me if I ever got to brush my hand upon it once, once would be enough. Your mouth would taste like heaven sending me off to an erotic ecstasy. 

My pain would be melted away by your soothing whispers, like chocolate dripping down sealing every crack.

And when your tears hit your cheeks, they would burn my body,

 causing bullet wounds. 

I would cocoon you in my arms protecting you with my armour where nothing would enter.

When I blink you’d disappear because you’d no longer be waiting for me.I could no longer say everything I wanted to because you wouldn’t be there to listen and even if you were there to listen I probably wouldn’t be able to get the words out. 

Because I mean nothing to you..

Yet you mean everything to me.

Lover at the side of the road.

Posted in Byron, Creative Writing, Dorian Grey, English Literature, English puns, Free Verse, Humor, Literature, Love, Oscar Wilde, Percy Shelley, Poetry, Relationship, Spoken word, Student, The Romantics, Writing

The man made of literature and technique


Caress me with caesuras, but don’t break in two.

 Kiss me with ballards, my heart will beat in tune,
With you.

Finger me with free verse until moans escape my lips,

like Enjambment,

Never ending

Oh God , don’t stop this.

You’re Wilde,

Like Dorian,

Be my Mr Gray.

Romantic,

Like Byron,

A Stag who never stays.

Drowning me like Percy,

In a lake of admiration.
Your love never ending,
Like their sexual frustration.

The Bad Boy of Literature 😍