In me by Adam Parry

There is love.
Like in the knock on 
                              the door,
or the letter
                waiting to be 
read.
There is love.
But sometimes we
                            forget.
Give into hate
die a little.
There is love.
And it comes and goes
                                   illogical, invisible.
Where it goes no-one knows.
There 
         is 
            love.

A cradle for her head

Her soul is sleeping far away
sleek furred animals for her bed.
She wishes songs and danced all day
she whispers of her dreams who
escape her drowsy mouth.
Upon  awakening she sees instead
a dank and dismal day ahead
and cannot once again return to dreams.
When she was bright, and fought
for love, she plays now a new game
sloughing off new skins to pay for night.
Yet when he takes her hand
he leads her home to foreign lands
Now all of these days remain behind
while in their dreams clouds are golden lined

one poem by Adam Parry

OF WHAT DO YOU REALLY DREAM?

To turn back
a moment
to know it can be done.
All free now, all silent, no way to stay young.
My face all crumpled
all shaded and scorned
my wrinkles laugh like new children
waiting to be born.
I'm stood but something in the starlight
sticks me statue like, letting all the starlings go by
and the soldiers and the civilians die.
Let with charities, smarties and too many drinkies.
Left with falling down, First World disguises in our own Third World
whilst the punks plot despotism.
All in this crying, this laughter, teaching, fidgeting and forgetting
these details give all meaning.
Jesus sneezed.  Let the children come to me, giggle at me.
The note taker sighed, got up and said goodbye.
In the Garden Judas fluffed his lines and this time judges passed over his crimes.
History hesitates as I stand by the painter who starts his project just in time.

Somewhere Sweet and Low a poem by Adam Parry

Somewhere Sweet and Low

 

 

 

 

 

Another black coffee caught by the beach.

Netted beside you, I sit at your feet.

I have this picture of this wild road

flowing faster than a vintage car ride.

You climbed every mountain

while I avoided the slightest incline.

I'd soar to the moon if you were beside me,

behind me urging me on.

A back pack of bricks I carry with me now,

so light, like the rain on us time after time. So

light as our footfall when I first made you laugh.

The bricks on me

love lightness and carry me on

through night, and the storm until I hold your hand.