wind-enchanted ocean by anelephantcant

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a fleeting smile a tender touch
small deeds that make your breath stop
the tiny things that start a flow
like a perfect fragile raindrop

eyes that sparkle full of joy
a heart that never stumbles
a truth that never deviates
like the waterfall straight tumbles

the strength and trust of your pure soul
the certainty inside
brings me sweet tranquility
like the river deep and wide

you bring this peace to my dark world
with no possible mistake
clothed in the poet’s white samite
like the fog-enshrouded lake

but change happens imperceptibly
you now show more emotion
restless growing turbulent
like the wind-enchanted ocean

love often comes and always goes
sometimes it briefly lingers
your faithless love slipped soft away
like water trickling through numb fingers

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Scotland’s mist

missed by anelephantcant

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Scotland’s mist

a man abroad
far far from home
missing those whom he once loved
when will he think
to come again
back to those that he still dreams of

does sunshine reach
deep deep inside
does it brighten those dark corners
does Scotland’s mist
not call him home
make him long to be among us

the cold raindrops
can warm a soul
the sun can leave one all a-shiver
if that rain is where
a heart still lies
then the sun will warm it never

a man abroad
far far from home
missing her whom he still loves
when will he think
to come again
back to the girl that he still dreams of

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clouds by anelephantcant

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a cloud floats wispy high and white
pure in a clean blue sky
a sky too blue to shed a tear
a sky that can never cry

the cloud now sees another there
pure in a clean blue sky
they smile and drift and join each other
in a sky that still can’t cry

and now the cloud becomes a shape
less pure in a clean blue sky
more clouds start merging soft together
in a sky that is yet to cry

the clouds are thick and full and low
dark in a grey blue sky
the light almost hidden behind the veil
of a sky preparing to cry

now clouds are all that can be seen
no blue in a grey black sky
no sunlight in a broken world
as the sky begins to cry

a cloud floats wispy high and white
pure in a clean blue sky
the storm passes over clearing the air
in time the tears will dry

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the rusty anchor

the rusty anchor by anelephantcant

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the rusty anchor

the sands of time are shifting
silent songbirds swiftly fly
the hills slip soft behind the mist
wretched clouds begin to cry

seaweed strewn along the shoreline
waits for the tide to be washed away
blue jellyfish are stranded too
but perhaps they can live one more day

I view the plains from the mountain top
I study the head of a pin
then I find I am going blind
when I stare at what lies within

at the end of the pier rests an anchor
ancient and huge and rusted
a relic of an era that is sadly long gone
when I believed that your word could be trusted

the buoys stretch on lines across the bay
a plane circles slow overhead
a grey ship sits a mile offshore
as I reflect on what you once said

for your words change how I see life
force my heart to pause and harden
no longer an innocent butterfly
in an invisible ultraviolet garden

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evening by anelephantcant

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the words I write at eventide
are different from early morning
as darkness falls I search for peace
pre-dawn I send a warning

at dusk my lines come fully formed
reflect my mood now gently pensive
but while sleep lingers in my eyes
the care required is intensive

for when I first rise from my bed
clothed yet in dreams of violence
prepared to battle for my cause
my voice destroys the silence

the hours amble to afternoon
my temper much more mellow
the danger signs no longer red
now more a golden yellow

my muse delivers new ideas
with each passing flake of time
I create with contented heart
my verses now scan and rhyme

but then I see the moon’s dark face
it entwines my mind in gloom
I writhe in pain and bleak grey words
record my certain doom

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Man’s Inhumanity to Man Makes Countless Thousands Mourn*

Four years later and things are perhaps even worse.


Lest We Forget Lest We Forget

I have seen them in many parts of the world.
From Scotland to Canada and the USA.
From France to Australia.
Each one rips at my soul.

But the saddest thing about War Memorials, strangely enough, is not the heart-breaking list of names of those who died in the obscenity that was World War I.
The Great War.
Yeah, right.

I do not dispute that the list is always far too long.
Of course it is.
Each one is a reminder of young, mostly working class men – sons, husbands, fathers – deprived of life, of communities destroyed for ever, all over our planet.

And yet.
Sadder still are the addenda.
Conflict after conflict.
War after war.
Decade after decade.
Name after name.
Life after life.

Nothing has changed.
Except that women are no longer excluded.
Nothing has been learned.

the cream of youth
again and again

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one more ghost

solitary boat by anelephantcant

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one more ghost

the ghosts came back again today
as they often do uninvited
I drift through the years quite unconcerned
apart from an occasional love unrequited

I now have reached that stage of life
when there is far less in front than behind me
so painful memories are pushed aside
until the past creeps in to find me

then I remember why I’m still alone
always resisting the predictable temptation
I prepare myself for another sad scene
and the inevitable last conversation

if there is nothing left I ask her
why do you still want to be friends
why not just laugh and be happy
and let it end like everything ends

time passes then as time always does
the sky and the sea are still blue
a solitary boat slips soft over the bay
and the wind blows through the space that was you

so gradually peace of mind returns
I recall the ladies my heart treasures most
I shrug and smile and walk my way
creating just one more ghost

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