You have landed on the bord bard's dashboard

poetry by the bored bard

you can
THE BORED BARD

weave me yet another day
so that I can knit those gaps
that I might sew
some silvery threads
then "later on" perhaps
you can exhale me out some breathy clouds
so I can kiss them in
that I might exhale
and blow them out
then we can both fall in
now I'm lost and lonely
like a cloud
that floats on high
without a song
all those bloody daffodils

where did it all go wrong?

21st Century Robin Hood

He was a real man.
He played in a band
Skully-drugged, high as an arrow.
Shooting pains with razor sharp words
and a whirly-gig wit.
He could kill a man for what he owned. Troublesome and dangerous.
A legend in his own back yard.
A Christian, maybe, maybe not.
Sure he would pop a pill or two
and take a drink of ale from a pale.
They say he was principled.
I say he was crazy.
Always on the take.
He got buzzed when he stole.

When he came down
he gave it all away.

That was his way....

Rogue planets
the stars are fixed tight
on this taught tapestry
they hold fast momentarily
I watch them fall
dropping downwards
into the darkest of the trees silhouettes

rogue planets circle hesitantly
breaking with tradition
they are all lost souls
wandering alone among the orphan stars such powerful machines are lost

Jessica


if I could hold this moment in both hands
and not let my love slip away from you
and you and I can be like shifting sands
and move across the landscape like a dune

influenced by motion of the spheres
your eyes in mine, mine eyes do catch your gaze

and did that sweet wind gently kiss those trees that silent song of heavenly spheres amaze
we could sit and see the seasons change
and watch the moon, plough ruts across the sky

and then to see the rain and not complain
see beauty like dew drops melt from your eyes and Dido did waft her willow with soft rage to come again, again come to Carthage

Moony Face


She with her moony face
And fairground stare
Her rounded  eyes over arching

Me,
On an asteroid collision
A pure vision and
Me,
On a mission

Her gipsy dress all floaty-free
Low cut, orbs  in sultry slow motion
Her skin all saline
Luke warm,
Lapping  at my edges

On this  silent, milky sea
Rising up and down
Without a sound

She,
Pulling all the her life into me
Those gipsy eyes looking in
On me, in me, at me
Through me
And out the other side of me
 
She’s worked me
She knew my type
Full of adolescent hype
All sulky-slap and spotty red
Her body language tells me
I’m alright
“For the moment at least”
 
Later on Christmas Day
She left me on a desolate beach
 
Through those cornucopia shells
I could hear the shrill of her laugh
Gurgling as the tide came in

street life cos there's no place to go

sockets sunk
her ravaged rutted skin
slumps stark against
the sterile shop fronts
of “buy me avenue”

a still life pose

there on thin cardboard
propped up against
a redundant red telephone box
she is sharing the street
with the scent of dog- shit and stinky kebab

her eyes no longer
ride the street
the road's reek
saturates into her skin

a wide winged pinched-eyed seagull
pulls apart abandoned happy meal
It's child's toy tossed to one side
left unopened in it's plastic bag

the street lights up blue
they lean over her fragility
her blue chapped lips
her eyes fixed glare

she had no mask
so what!

“one milligram of epinephrine”

“stand clear”

2020 is a year that most people will not forget.

A.Kirk
Owner - The Bored Bard