Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Nostalgia

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Worn wooden floor
Distant, ancient scent
Tobacco long gone
Beer, deep red in thick glass
Salt and vinegar crisps
Pickled eggs
Pickled patrons
Warmth and welcome
Long gone like the smoke
One missed

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Errors

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Mistakes seep into
Our minds through repetition
Habitual truth’s born

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, General, Poem a Day Challenge, Poetry, Writing

News

By Scott Bailey © 2013

What’s behind the story
What is the reason for that news
Who gets the benefit, the prize
The envelope with the bread
The law successfully passed
The company tracked greased
Somebody’s life made easier
At the cost of somebody else

 
www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Repeating Lives

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Taking my son to my old school
Following the bus I used to take
Still the same number
Basically the same model
The same smell of classrooms
And I wonder
Is this it?
Are we destined
To repeat lives?

It is not enough
I want more
More for my children
Than was there for me
No fear
More doors
No prejudice
More joy in knowledge

Is that too much to ask?

Image from PIxabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Gathering Clouds

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Dark gathering cloud
Brooding and beautiful
Waiting for the flash of light
The spark
The piercing blue-white crack
And the wind
The raw whipping wind
And the release of rain
and the rainbow

Image from Pixabay

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Twentieth Century Taliesin

By Scott Bailey © 1999

I am the factory wall, despised and so defaced
Covered with graffiti, defiled and disgraced.
I am the concrete tower that holds up the concrete road
Bleak and faceless white, bearing my toxic load.
I am the bin on the street, bursting full with waste
Where rats and vermin crawl, around me in distaste.
I am the battered traffic cone abandoned in the hedge
A used forgotten prize of lives lived on the edge.
I am the street side gutter where dirty water flows
A place of infestation, where all the darkness goes.
I am the discarded knife with bloodstains on the blade
The close but unseen menace lurking in the shade.
I am the lofty tower spewing clouds into the air
That speed across the oceans, killing without a care.
I am the broken shelf with screws rent from the wall
That supported all the books and caused them all to fall.
I am the sodden cardboard box flapping in the street
Broken, limp, forgotten, always under feet.

Once I was a poet, bright-browed with golden-haired
Playing harp and singing, songs into the air.
Once I was a druid learning from the trees
Drawing strength from bark and wisdom from the leaves.
Once I was a warrior with proud and shining sword
Singing with my war-band a deep heroic chord.
Once I was a chieftain with princes round my hearth
Against war and cold and famine, our mighty hearts did laugh.
Once I was a king whose soul was all the land
Who tended all his people with a strong and generous hand.

But I made other people suffer
Now suffer myself in turn.
But as you wreak your vengeance
What lesson do you learn?

What lessons do you all forget?

Benjamin West [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Posted in Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Pool

By Scott Bailey © 2013

They trickle in
The protesters, the bitter, the dispossessed, the poor
They swirl in slow currents
Exchanging thoughts, views, ideas.
An oasis for the outcasts

The Man sits by the pool
And fishes
Taking what he needs
Watching the rest

The pool holds no threat

Image from Pixabay

www.scottandrewbailey.uk