Ghost

You’d come to stay.
Lifting away emotional boxes heavy with sorrow.
A wreckage of circumstance and bits of dead skin.
Tumbling from shared DNA.
You’d come to stay.
Unfogging the glasses that looked towards tomorrow.
As the walls caved in around us.
Brick dust and reality coating our lungs.
You moved it aside, a place for everything.
And every heart in its right place.
Having been torn away.
You took my hand and calmed my heartbeat.
The shiver was from the cold, nothing more.
Sweet words melted into this moment.
You said you’d stay.
All things fixed, you’d come to find it.
The reason for our pain.
It vanished of course, upon seeing you again.
A visitor hanging there like a family secret.
Precious and ours only.
Praying together, staying forever.
You’d come to stay.
That was what you say.
In my head.

17/05/202317/05/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, ghost, griefTags: art, crazy, death, ghost, grief, loss, mental, mind, poem, Poetry, stay, touch, writing 9 Comments

Subconsciously motivated to euphoria

Tell me more about this place where the flowers grow.
Darkness, you say, is but a dream spun in fractured states.
That has little place there.
These flowers, they sparkle like crystals under sunlit ponds.
Inviting us to dive for mislabeled treasure.
There was but a crack on my mind.
Nothing really, but would it matter?
If that fracture, grew worse and worse.
Not there you say, that place it heals.
Swaddling all in divine clouds of relief.
Keeping the broken pieces of the shell in place.
And the mind where it belongs.
What use of the heart then?
The heart it seems is praised.
Raised up high like a crown.
The land vibrates under soft understanding.
While love sews tapestries of tales, and memories together.
They are there too, you know they are waiting.
How could an angel not sit at the throne.
Heaven?
No, not yet. The safer place inside your soul.
Where you barely tred.
I don’t want to stain it all with coatings of yesterday.
These things will be washed away, only lessons remain.
Who can go?
All are welcome.
When can I leave?
You’ve already left.

31/12/202228/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, flowers, happyTags: angels, art, flowers, happy, heaven, joy, light, love, mind, poem, Poetry, safe, soulmate, sunshine, travel, wellness 6 Comments

Hope against Hope

The blood settles, as if time holds its breath.
Cupped in a hush, frightened to flow.
The rest awaits.
A shuffle in the mind.
The attic of the body, like a restless Dorian Gray.
When the eyes reveal the true horror of the ordinary.
A Day, much like yesterday.
Comfort swallows, the needed search forever longing.
Secure and safe.
How else do we move, if not shaken from the spot.
The mountain beckons, a summit that seems never conquerable.
A defeatist voice that echoes in your ears.
Humming its way through your muscles, reversed intent.
Until a swing of the pendulum, a signal fire of age.
Of time wasted, sand spilling from your hands.
Dust in the blood.
Your time is now, it was actually then.
We enjoy the blessing every day, to start again.

15/10/202215/10/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, body, hopeTags: art, blood, body, change, climb, comfort, escape, hope, hurt, light, loss, mind, mountain, poem, Poetry, safe, time, voices Leave a comment

In-Between thoughts

Oh this heart has witnessed such unimaginable things.
Beating into yesterday, hoping for tomorrow.
This renouncing of a god served a purpose for the hour.
And birthed such maddening overwhelm.
Apocalyptic daydreams that swung in the breeze.
Hanging heads like melancholic flowers.
Plant it here, neatly and quick.
The thought within, itching and humming radioactively.
Around it salt was strewn, forming a circle like a halo around the moon.
Wolves howled, and seas stormed.
The mind asunder, ravaged by the absence of purpose.
Of hope.
Trying to join the dots in the empty space.
Acrophobically conditioned to fail.

12/07/202212/07/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: crazy, time, tomorrowTags: art, crazy, darkness, doom, empty, fail, flowers, god, loss, mind, moon, poem, Poetry, space, thoughts, tomorrow 2 Comments

A formidable heartbeat

When the light is snuffed.
By the hand of God.
A recklessness washes within.
Out of the black oozes defiance, and a new religion.
A sense of purpose on ledges and lives.
As quiet as the devil is, and as loud as god.
Your own voice rattled and hums.
Can you denounce the logic which spreads like honey across your mind?
Swallow it down, the nasty taste of tolerance.
And set fire to the warning that came in on a fresh breeze.
Who knows where it has been.
Who knows what it has seen.
You know your own beyond the world of your eyelids.
And deep within your solitary ravine.
The slush and sway of the overwhelm.
A world urging you to stay.

13/06/202215/06/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: death, Devil, religionTags: art, black, change, death, devil, ending, fire, god, honey, mind, morbid, poem, Poetry, religion, tolerance, wind, world Leave a comment

A Quiet refrain

The rain of time.
A slow drip into my skull.
Quietens the restless bird of my mind.
Flattening the wings.
Clipping and waxing.
Nursing by angelic hands.
Which slows the hum and the pulse.
Ceasing it to fly.

20/03/202219/02/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, birds, peaceTags: art, birds, heart, mind, mood, poem, Poetry, rain, seasons, skull, soul, time, weather Leave a comment

Little things

They’re little things you worry about.
Stop fretting, relax you mind.
Put aside the fear and doubt.
Happiness will come in time.

Yet I do not live in conscious reason.
I cannot resist to wonder.
That all things change in each passing season.
And it’s the little things that pull you under.

09/10/2018 by Mark Ryan Categories: hope, Poetry, seasons, sharkTags: change, doubt, happiness, mind, photography, poem, poetry, relax, seasons, time, worry 7 Comments