Forever might never come

Somewhere someone is dying.
A last word stuttering from lips.
Visions imprint on eyelids.
Forever.
The tins of the past stack up.
Filling space in your mind as they rust.
Tumbling from the attic like heavy Christmas decorations.
Some shiny, others cut where the edges hurt still.
Somewhere a soul is born.
Breathing it’s first breath as a mother shivers.
All this while the earths spins in continuum.
Caring not for the specs aboard.
Now, that is all that matters.
The imprints of gold beneath your feet.
As you make your own journey.
A destination in mind.
A port of departure behind.
But now, as the wind blows through you like a ghost.
And your skin turns towards the sun like a plant.
Now is what truly matters.
Who knows when the world will stop spinning.
Or when we cartwheel off into space and nothingness.

10/01/202310/01/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: age, future, travelTags: birth, death, earth, future, gold, journey, now, past, poem, Poetry, space, time, travel 4 Comments

Blink into worlds

There’s a resonance within.
These bones that call.
Out to the nothing, across god’s table.
The banquet to the stars.
Which hearken us home.
Though it’s hard to try against a world of darkness.
One that creeps in with the rain.
It calls to me daily.
Blinking out of my mind’s eye.
Stuttering psalms and pearls from my mouth.
Dropping all mortality.
Reminding me that I am divine.

21/09/202217/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: bones, god, spaceTags: begin, black, bones, darkness, divine, ending, expanse, eye, future, galaxy, god, minds eye, poem, Poetry, space, stars 4 Comments

A Once before and yet to be

Words were meaningless then.
Arrows and honey lost in the storm.
Traveling so far, just to find a home.
I gave everything I had away.
With broken bones I crawled.
Like octopi coming out of the sea.
A starfish, growing back.
My world is not littered with diamonds.
Those words, once so meaningless, do not sparkle still.
But they do feather my nest.
A poet, a teller of stories.
Some long, others gone.
But sadly, and shockingly.
My own tale of loss and redemption.
Yet it echoes deeply into my other worlds.
And rings out in a life yet lived.

10/09/202210/09/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: octopus, stories, timeTags: diamonds, future, hope, loss, octopi, poem, poet, Poetry, redemption, sea, starfish, stories, tales, time 1 Comment

Something thought eternal dies

It pulls you to the ground.
Rips inside you.
Plunging into your soul like skeleton hands.
That fear of a solitary future.
The stain of a nothing left behind.
In the absence of another.
You throw up your love onto new terrain.
Heavy now, with a new solo gravity.
The weight of the world.
The weight of a tear.
Crashing inside you.
An inky wave of resolve and refusal.
For your heart was sewn and stitched to another.
And now the wound is left to bleed into nothing.

17/06/202217/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: gravity, loneliness, lonely, painTags: art, future, gravity, heart, hurt, lonely, love, pain, passed, poem, Poetry, skeleton, soul, wave 1 Comment

Hold it all in

Cocooned in a love that had died.
Brought to life once more in this time.
In a moment, connected not by space or matter.
But by the golden dance of hope and perseverance.
I’m on the verge of ecstasy again.
So I swallow it down, keep it all in.
The smile I suffocate with my lips.
Breathing in the heady acceleration of this future.
Trapping it in amber.
No words come from you, yet I hear your voice.
Within, spinning spiderwebs of trust and delicate touches.
Heaving my ribs to make way for the love.
Expanding.
Melting this iceberg.
Though this moment won’t last.
As I feel the morning rays creep over the windowpane.
Threatening today.
And tomorrow you my choose to go away.
Now is all that matters.
It feels, as I collapse into forever.
Washed in your eyes, the drenching of starry hazel plumes.
Making me divine.
So I keep you in time, trapped like beauty.
Forever.
Mine.

06/06/202206/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: future, happy, loveTags: care, dream]sun, forever, future, happy, hope, kiss, lips, love, poem, Poetry, time Leave a comment

When you think about your life, I surround you in a gentle sympathy

Oily hands which pin warnings to the walls of your paper cathedrals.
Closing their eyes to the view of sorrow.
It stretched before them, and under your skin.
Cool, when not engulfed in such flames of disgust.
Little cracks in stone, slowly crumble pillars of discontent.
The columns that held our gods too high.
Out of reach, on the horizon.
How can we touch the finger of god.
When we choose to crawl on swollen bellies.
Pick the needle which will penetrate the precious heart.
Kept in glass, and passed down and around but never treasured.
Wake up those angels which sleep inside.
Do not run and hide, from a future which began yesterday.
Tip the grey to another shade and shake out a song.
One which can be played at any funeral.
Signalling a death of something, and the beginning of such wonder.

10/03/202208/03/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, death, treasureTags: angel, angels, books, church, death, future, god, heart, life, poem, Poetry, precious, ruins, skull, treasure, wonder 2 Comments

Silent shores

4am as the world whispers me awake.
All is calm as the night travels in my veins still.
I slept the day away.
Rubbing the tiredness and memories from my eyes.
Half a world resting in my heart from where I started.
Right where I belong.
The veil is yet to be lifted from my shaded stay.
Talking to me still from the past in a language familiar.
Talks of entangled vines and harkening songs.
A call of the kookaburra who rests on my eyelids.
The red land beneath my feet.
Sticking to me like sand on wet skin.
Rub away these English oaks. This chitter of festivity.
Don’t lead me blind with your patriotic tales.
Colour me sunlit gold and let me sleep.
Crying into the night and drifting away on the tide.
Waking on a shore I pray that I do not recognise.

26/02/202220/01/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: crying, ocean, travelTags: art, beach, dream, england, eyes, Fluorescent, future, healing, jetlag, moon, night, patriotic, poem, Poetry, sand, sleep, sleeping, tears, time, timezones, tired, travel, trees 6 Comments

Prologue and the promise

We took a dream to a land we did not know.
You closed your eyes and disappeared.
Let loose of the gravity that was holding you.
We wanted to be anywhere, somewhere.
With orange juice skies and the smell of peppermint.
To forget is to disappear.
A war which rages in our absence, devoid of our participation.
Kills the sky and marks the earth.
But here, in our land of other, we drink a dream.
Soaking in the manna and the marrow of the bones we wish to be.
The chiming sweet chorus that facilitates the soul.
A world that blankets the old.
This is our now, our future our place.
In which to wake from the dream.
To shake the soot from our space and reclaim what was meant to be.

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Taken from ‘Alchemy’ – out now

17/02/202217/02/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: departure, dreams, futureTags: adventure, art, beginning, dreams, eternity, future, land, life, love, poem, Poetry, sky, sun, time, together 4 Comments

Death deserves a witness

Quietly, lay me down.
Shutting out the light until the fears vibrate.
Onlookers shuffle, whispering like the clergy.
Greasy eyed and apathetic.
Coughing on incense and strings of my childhood.
God strokes me into calmness.
Tenderly, like a plant struggling to grow.
Needing the care.
I whisper grace, and slit the throat.
Letting the eyes glimmer in the dying light.
The ghosts shudder at the demise.
Fluttering ethereal remembering eyes.
The air turns foul, and I gasp into life.
Sucking in sweet alpine air.
Death spirits away such needless past.
Life offers such beautiful future.
Words tiptoe across my skin like those across a gravestone.
They fade in your light.
And you blink away the past.
Taking my hand.

19/12/202119/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: god, light, plantsTags: art, blood, care, childhood, death, future, ghosts, god, light, memories, past, plants, poem, Poetry, time 2 Comments

Palpable truth

Tentatively, almost like a whisper.
A bloom of admiration crept up inside.
Love had hung so precariously.
Like a dew drop on a paper-thin petal of time.
A confession from fate.
The tumbling of truth, wrapped in time and circumstance.
Here.
Now.
It calls out to you, lifting the wrappings on a moment spun in space.
Call me once more again the name your lips tremble to utter.
Cast me a glance from your eyes that remove fear.
The swirled marbled eyes of god.
I let your lips continue what your fingers started.
Leading pathways to your sacred heart.
And fall once again into the swirling wave of the future.
Securely, knowing it was planned.

14/12/202114/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: future, love, truthTags: art, eyes, future, lifetimes, love, moments, poem, Poetry, time, truth, wave, waves 4 Comments

Lifing

The curse of life, that brings you down to pray.
Everyday.
Fresh chaotic ordeals that scrape and scratch.
At a heart not born to break.
Yet fade, in its inevitable decay.
This life, this time.
Yours and mine, held in the palm of fate.
Tickling the future by what we do today.

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Taken from ‘Everyday Miracles’ – out now

05/12/202105/12/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: change, future, miracleTags: art, change, chaos, future, heart, jesus, miracles, poem, Poetry, today Leave a comment

Future in the ridiculing stars

In this weakness, I split a seam.
Pulled like a petal on the winds.
Love crept in before I could find the right words.
Ones to keep it at bay.
And its wonderment that now rushes me like a ghost.
Leaving precious bits of joy between my teeth.
Bits of your soul to chew over.
A deeper thread is laid.
Woven with violets and green tea murmurings.
Heady conversations that drum in my mind.
The universe repeats such rehearsed dialogue.
Playing back, your voice like that of god.
Words I heard before, now more precious than ever.
I left the universe there, captured in a moment.
Cupped in my hands next to your precious heart.
Struggling against the sun and the sanity.
Threatening such a beautiful return of Saturn.
The homeward point of my compass.
We fight the need to collapse into now.
Knowing the future is brighter when the stars in our blood pool.

 

09/11/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: future, love, starsTags: art, blood, forever, future, god, love, poem, Poetry, pool, stars, sun, tea, tears, violets, voice Leave a comment

An immediate future

Tomorrow drips in it’s yokey gold.
Offering the treasure of yet to be.
A sparkling beauty of opportunity.
Casting minds back into the dark.
Searching for answers in the rooms of yesterday.
Taking time to pray.
Asking God to push us onwards.
Into the light.
Into the storm.
Too long have I sat waiting for the world to split open.
To flower and bloom like spring.
For the great wings of fate to fly.
Catching me as I fall to climb.
Yet all there really is, is now.
The tear on your face.
The laughter in your eyes.
Each moment a prize.
That should be savoured in the moment.
For time yet to be and been and gone.
Is just another setting sun.

19/10/202119/10/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: fate, future, timeTags: art, bird, fate, flight, future, now, poem, Poetry, sky, sun, time, tomorrow, wings Leave a comment

Temporary shelter

We slipped again, into the night.
Out of view.
Known only that we were here,
by the stories they tell.
Fabrications and fables.
Drops of disillusionments that melt their trustful hearts.
We wander, as they wonder why.
All around us keeps on spinning.
Our own rotational axis that keeps on thinning.
Down into splitting heirs.
Putting matchsticks between your teeth.
Setting the enameled house to fire.
Write these reasons on the back your hands.
Staple your own destiny to your eyelids.
Then once again play that mournful song of tomorrow.
And disappear into today’s setting sun.

22/09/202109/08/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: earth, heart, universeTags: art, earth, eyes, fire, future, hearts, music, night, Poetry, sace, sky, sun, teeth, universe 2 Comments

Until my last breath

You hear me breathe.
But you cannot see.
Masked by the skin that makes me.
Inside, a love blooms and flowers.
Rising with the light I see in your eyes.
You are the pull of this tide.
Circling me with your lunar call.
My heart, the lonely hunter.
Howling and yearning for a touch.
For a kiss.
For a word that escapes in embraces.
A love so precious that makes the angels cry.
How you slip inside my mind like truth and temptation.
And you know the worth.
The war that was fought to earn such love.
The battlefield strewn with such bloody parts of this heart.
Now drying in the southern sun.
I want you to keep me forever.
Placed into the pocket of your soul.
Safe and secret.
Dripping with dewdrops of infinity.
Born out of our early morning birth.
I want you to hold tight, squeeze all the love from me.
Hold on to me, until there’s nothing left.

08/07/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: future, heart, loveTags: angels, art, battle, body, care, cry, flowers, future, heart, kiss, poem, Poetry, time, war, wolf, wolves Leave a comment

Future is bright

The Future sits on fingertips.
What pulls a thread through?
Plucking emotions to tie on strings around fingers.
To wed golden bands around the past.
Memories shake and shiver into oneness.
Leaving the dark where it falls.
Lay your head down, so heavy and haloed.
As the lens of life splits with love.
The future swims in your soul like the coy in the pond.
Beautiful and patient.
Intent to disturb the waters of our heart.
To be swum and carried at equal measure.
All must end and all must fade.
The pain and challenges within melt away.
For nothing lasts forever.
And tomorrow is a brand new day.

12/01/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: future, love, winTags: art, challenge, coy, fish, future, gold, past, poem, Poetry, sea, test, waters, wedding, win 2 Comments

Dissolve

On my fingertips, dancing like a tiger.
The tip of my tongue, growling like a beast.
Naming you, shaming you and falling under.
My fingertips now tingle.
Blood and sweat dripping down like melting galaxies.
You fold away the past, and dissolve the future.
Streaking my colours into a frantic version of now.
Washing away the grey.
This good life you prophesize, I want to know all about it.
As I swirl round and round in the delusional dream.
Fizzing and floating on falling stars, while I wave goodbye to the lonely.
These cells break down and collapse.
This earth shakes underneath.
A ballet of our isotopes, that merge and fall with each of your heartbeats.
I cling to you, for fear of disappearing completely.
Of wanting to be lost in you.
This sweet gigantic resolve, the chaotic dissolve of mergence.
As you love me, for me.

21/11/202021/11/2020 by Mark Ryan Categories: dance, love, scienceTags: art, ballet, blood, colour, dance, future, galaxy, love, paiting, past, poem, poems, Poetry, prophecy, relationship, science, soulmate, space, stars, tigers, trance, writing 6 Comments