A long poem about missed opportunities, keep swinging |
Green & Black I tried my best and faltered Sometimes its not enough The things I'd wished I'd altered The diamonds in the rough With coal left on the fairway No pressure in cropped grass, and time choked up in airways Each breath could be our last Best to go out swinging Than leave unsure on knees Lest we cease our singing Muted are our pleas Silent are our questions Non-existent, the replies With truths lost in regrets and Futures lost in lies Epilogues half empty Preludes full of hope Prologues set to tempt me … if I just use enough rope Enough to get knot up in Enough to bridge the gaps Enough to grapple, swing in With offers hanging, lapsed? Time's portrait, crooked, slanted Frames straightened, angled, slick Space sacred, took for granted, and time that slides to quick Sand slipped through the narrows Through glassine chances blown Alas time's oft cruel arrows, only fly one way... their own With fate, a fickle bowman So many strings on show Everybody loves a showman Our arrows have their flow Sometimes all too often That river weaves too wide When rapid water softens You're on the other side The other side of midnight Your light, so bright, I see My stars glisten in numbers bright Just not the one for me She shines up there for someone else For others in the flow Fate's arrow flies with time itself We harvest what we sew Threads that we are given The colours through the twine The roads on which we're driven Weaving through our time Touching other's rainbows Trading different threads It's funny how the dream goes The places where it heads With some lost in the ether The ones that grip till dawn The one's who stay together The ones to whom we're drawn Following the outlines We colour in the soul Play within our confines, our humble lump of coal Yet coal left unattended, with some hard spent pressure, time When vulnerable, we're splendid That's how you build the shine A shine not built on fairways, in the safety of the green In the smoothness of the green baize, the lay is never seen The land behind the alter, long lush grass, I dare not touch I tried my best and faltered … you can want something too much |