even if

field of spring blue by anelephantcant

field of spring blue by anelephantcant

Click here to hear a reading of the poem:

you know how I feel about you
it is no secret and you understand why
there is only one thing I ask in return
say you love me even if it’s a lie

my world exploded in ten million heart flakes
that wondrous moment my old eyes first saw you
I long for only one thing to make my life complete
say you love me even if it’s not true

we watch butterflies dancing in moonlight
while mermaids caress the star bright night sky
my dreams sparkle perfection except for one tiny lack
say you love me even if it’s a lie

as unicorns frolic in high scented meadows
we chase white rabbits across a field of spring blue
and summer lasts forever in the land where we kiss
say you love me even if it’s not true

for this is a place where magic abounds
pink elephants write poetry and fly
truth is far less important than fantasy here
say you love me even if it’s a lie

I see rainbows black sprinkled with heartache
deep in the shadows there lies darkness still
it now seems that Aurora can not come again
please just once say you love me even if we both know you never will

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shadows by anelelphantcant

shadows by anelelphantcant

Click here to hear the poem read aloud:

we fear our shadows are but ghosts
of who we are and were
they follow us where’er we walk
remind us why we’re there

these shadows are the things we did
the needless hurt we caused
the shadows of the pain we felt
and of the loves we lost

these ghosts are almost tangible
but strangely out of reach
they move beyond our aching hearts
inhibiting our speech

we glimpse them now when we are sad
when guilt must blind our eyes
we know the ghosts are our own selves
the ones we most despise

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time difference

time difference by anelephantcant

time difference by anelephantcant

Click here to hear a reading of the poem:

at first I think perhaps you’re the right one
but I’m aware I have no point of reference
we seem to have no common culture
we can never overcome the time difference

when you ask me I write you a love song
you tell me you don’t care for the tune
I really try I reach for the sky
but you my love you want the moon

like Tom Bombadil long before you
you dance happily between drops of rain
sadly I can’t evade even tear drops
I drown in my lonely lost pain

at last I awaken and realise
love is no more and no less than a crime
I torture myself and then others
the difference of course is just time

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the sound of time

the sound of time by anelephantcant

the sound of time by anelephantcant

Click here to hear the poem read aloud:

I remember early morning cold
sweet words warm and endearing
all that I hear is long ago
the sound of time

we danced we sang when we first met
and for some years thereafter
it now seems as though I’ve never heard

the sound of
my own laughter

I listen for the phone to ring
to hear your voice soft calling
the silence is only broken by

the sound of tears
soft falling

I see your hair so wild and free
I see
your back and the way your hips sway
I hear the tip tap of
your heels
the sound of love walking away

I hear the clock tick on the wall
I want to smash the glass in
it tells what I don’t want to hear
the sound of life that’s passing

I thought you loved me as I loved you
a quite fatal mistake
you said goodbye I only heard

the sound of
lifelong heartache

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Ma Belle Voisine

20160921_183051-sNot a poem this week, just a true story.
I wrote this piece almost a year ago.
This seems like the right time to publish it.
Click here to hear it:

Ma Belle Voisine

Every now and again we meet someone special.
My neighbour is just such a person.
Someone who makes life, and the world, just better.
She is older than I am, at least in her late seventies, maybe more.
She has a slightly over-enthusiastic spaniel, and she keeps birds on her balcony.
I can hear them singing as I write.
As is often the case, it is hard to say exactly what makes her so special.
She always has a smile, always greets me as though she is pleased to see me.
We break the polite rules of French social life together.
The norm is to exchange kisses only once per day, on the first meeting.
We do it each time we meet, and we actually make lip to cheek contact each time.
I call her ‘Ma Belle Voisine’, my beautiful neighbour.
She tells me I am adorable, the same spelling and meaning as in English, but with her northern French accent it says so much more.
She speaks no English.
When I gave her a signed copy of my book, she smiled at me, told me she couldn’t read it.
That doesn’t matter, I said, you can look at the pictures. It is a gift because I love you.
Her eyes shone.
I met her in the street yesterday.
She told me I looked tired.
I said I had been unwell, confined to barracks for the past few days.
Why didn’t you tell me, she asked, I could have helped you.
The look she gave me clearly indicated that this was no empty offer.
I thanked her and left quickly.
With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.
Because she recently told me, reluctant to share, that her specialist recommended chemotherapy.
She has pancreatic cancer.
When I asked her if I could do anything, she just smiled.
C’est pas grande chose, she said, it is no big deal.
Every now and again we meet someone special.

Monique Primault passed away yesterday, September 21, 2016.

Tu me manques, ma belle voisine.

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realise by anelephantcant

realise by anelephantcant

Click here to hear the poem being read:


with eyes and tongue that sparkle
sharp and bright as any knife
I am very quick to realise
I want you
in my life

with laughter on your sweet face
you are all I’ve ever wanted
I happily now realise
my dreams are no longer haunted

the subtlest of caresses
a finger stroking wayward hair
your soft touch makes me realise
I am free from pain and care

but as we grow deeply closer
your gentle words become defensive
I share my soul and realise
you abruptly become offensive

summer flies off on autumn winds
and leaves a heart sore chilled
why do I not realise
my love can’t die it can be killed

with eyes and tongue that sparkle
lethal as any knife
why am I so slow to realise
you are just afraid of life

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disguise by phil burns

disguise by phil burns

Click here to hear the poem:

I am not who you think I am
not who you see through your love tinted eyes
I am not who I seem
I am not who you dream
I am a man who always wears a disguise

I am not who you think I am
I love only for a minute or three
when my radar shows
that you’re getting too close
I blow you a kiss and I flee

I am not who you think I am
my defences too quickly adjust
as soon as you feel
that this might be real
I abandon your heart and your trust

I am not who you think I am
I never stay I prefer always to roam
but as I grow older
and the long nights grow colder
I sometimes ache for a place to call home

I am not who you think I am
I give the impression that I am quite free
but I am no longer whole
since I gave my soul
to the she who walked softly from me

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