Wedding Day Blues

wedding day blues by phil burns

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Wedding Day Blues

the ice was cracked and spiky
the glass was smashed and green
the water black and filthy
but her hands were soft and clean

he was tall and wore a soft felt hat
he stood in front of the TV
no one could see the wedding scene
so they turned to torture me

the bride was bathed and lovely
her lingerie was white and fresh
the window was wide open
so I watched her as she dressed

he was in a smoked-glass limousine
we hadn’t met in twenty years
when they replayed the honeymoon
the men were all reduced to tears

a cloakroom overflowing
with hats and scarves and gloves
our long black coats showed danger signs
as they dragged across the dust

she said come back here later
I will take you to my room
there were cats and kittens everywhere
she thought I was the groom

she said she’d have them all removed
I will make it spick and span
if you will lie with me tonight
you will always be my man

I was too old to be there
I left quietly while she slept
the sky was dark the stars were bright
I was happy yet I wept

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rock faces

rock faces by anelephantcant

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rock faces

we dance around the Côte d’Azur
visit calanques by the hundreds
it thrills you every time you see
where the ancient earth was sundered

you love the courage of the trees
clinging to impossible rock faces
the tide that trickles up the beach
washing away all hopes and traces

poverty of imagination
brings clarity of thought
and tells your heart which dreams are true
and which loves are sadly not

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the faces

the faces by phil burns

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the faces

the faces change but the people don’t
they all act aggressively
one man becomes another
who lies weeping helplessly

the city workers laugh and joke
they have no worries no concerns
they know that they are getting paid
no matter what they might have earned

my brothers arrive surprisingly
they are seldom seen together
the fact that most distresses me
is that one has been dead forever

my sleep is restless quite disturbed
my dreams terrifying and vivid
so different from my waking thoughts
which are mundane and insipid

the rain comes down in torrents
the streets are greased and slick
the more I think about my world
the more my heart is sick

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la guerre éternelle

‘passed by’ by phil burns

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la guerre éternelle

her face was bruised and bloody
she would not tell me why
the dark-haired man in the high-cost suit
just smiled as he walked by

two brothers were still fighting
their shirts and suits were torn
the traffic stopped the people watched
as a legend there was born

the butcher told me nothing
he wouldn’t sell his pork
the blood was spilled across the floor
in pools of light and dark

the chops were frozen solid
I had bought one yesterday
he told me they were farmyard fresh
so I took one anyway

she showed me where the men had gone
she was afraid that I’d go in
they came back out they didn’t care
their eyes were hard and thin

I followed down the busy street
they loaded money into cars
I called the cops they wouldn’t come
they were fighting different wars

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Scotland

Scotland by anelephantcant

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Scotland

when I think
from afar
of the land
that I love
I realise that much
is almost clichéd
like haggis and tartan
Robert Burns and the skirl of the pipes
the Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond
the Doon sae fresh and fair

but I love too
the River Forth
spanned by three bridges
and three centuries
half-ruined castles
full of legends and ghosts
our lochs long and grey
with mists above
and monsters below
battlefields drenched
in tears and glory
and the spirits
that walk them still
Skye’s dark sharp peaks
and
Ayrshire’s green rolling hills

I love
that you still nourish
my heart
and my soul
I love porridge
and
sunlit heather in September

I love
that
our National Animal
is the Unicorn
and
our National Flower
the Thistle

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my spider, again

spider by phil burns

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my spider, again

I wonder what she hears
when I speak to her
the little spider
who now shares my home

I address her in French
of course
it seems somehow arrogant
to assume that she’d understand
or tolerate
my west of Scotland brogue
invading her world in a foreign tongue

she no longer flees at my intrusion
into her little corner
but seems to regard me
with indifference
if indeed
she regards me at all

it may be that she is
as unaware of my existence
as I am
and probably you are
of all the tiny creatures
we trample unthinkingly
beneath our feet
every day of our lives

so I talk softly to her
and hope that she senses
my affection

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how

apart by anelephantcant

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how

falling in love is a magical thing
like springtime an inspirational start
but when my tears fall like brown autumn leaves
how can I mend what you’ve done to my heart

the joy I feel when we are together
fears the grey doubt when we are apart
and now you are gone with no hope of return
how can I mend what you’ve done to my heart

each time that we meet I am dazzled anew
a Mona Lisa of natural art
but no artist ever born can paint over the ache
or help me mend what you’ve done to my heart

these are the questions I have no answers for
how can I possibly live through this pain
how can I mend what you’ve done to my heart
how can I fall in love ever again

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homeland

undulating topography by anelephantcant

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Homeland

On a visit
to my homeland
weel-kent
for its two weather conditions
about to rain
and already raining
the Sunday
is a wondrous treat
of unexpected
and glorious sunshine.

Walking in the hills
north-west of Maybole
along a rough path
surrounded
by birdsong and foxgloves
wild rhubarb and thistles
under a sky blue and sparkling
brilliant enough to recall eyes
long unseen almost forgotten
but still loved
a view appears
twenty thirty forty miles
of Ayrshire’s green and undulating topography
sprinkled with dairy cattle
and some sheep
a solitary elegant deer
slipping dappled
through the shadows
of a small copse
a young hare
pausing startled
before bounding
with scarcely believable swiftness
down a long gentle grassy slope
and I remember again
why
and how much
I love Scotland

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the lachrymose nephophile

clouds by anelephantcant

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the lachrymose nephophile

a cloud floats wispy high and white
pure in a clea
r 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 clear 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 less 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 clear blue sky
the storm passes over clea
nsing the air
in time the tears will dry

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horizon

horizon by anelephantcant

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horizon

hand in hand
we stand in love
watching sailboats
from the warm distant horizon
glide 
arrogantly into port

we see the blues
of sky and sea
merge together
in nature’s reflection
of our bodies
as our lips meet
and impatiently we embrace
to create all too briefly
a new intense horizon

cold winds blow in from the east
clouds gather overhead
warmth flees from troubled air
waves shatter on the rocks

back to back
we stand in silence
watching sailboats disappear
into the past or the future
on the other side of the horizon

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