The Abyss

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The Abyss

 

I jumped into the abyss
Holding your hand,
It seemed so romantic.
It was such a stupid idea,
It took me ages to find you,
You were all mixed up,
Jumbled around ,
Consciousness
Scatter
Ed
Into a thousand bits.

 

The Abyss called,

We swam within it,

Enjoying the luxury

Of the incorporeal,

A holiday from existence,

For a while,

Until it bored us,

And missing touch,

We deny it,

Become ourselves again,

Walk away from the

Incomprehensible

Nothing

Arm in Arm.

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

 

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Dancing Shoes

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Dancing Shoes

 

Sally Thomas walked out

Of the factory, for the last time,

In a mood so bloody foul,

She sparked and swore

Shouting curses to the sky

At the mediocrity,

The pure bloody dullness

Of the cobbling folk.

 

Shouting Curses in a thunderstorm,

She called to Spirits of old,

For Sally, she had witches blood

Although she didn’t know.

 

In her rage came

Words she swore

She’d never heard before

Some ancient curse

Passed down in blood

She was a witch’s witch’s daughter,

Though it was hidden in the past.

She never knew, what would come,

In that old factory,

Witches words carry power

Those folk soon

Found, to misfortune.

 

It started on the factory line,

With a tapping on the belt,

A shake and a vibration,

To a rhythm all things felt,

It caught everybody there

It caught the shoes too,

Infectious and delirious

To dance along to.

 

In the night, the footless shoes

Jumped up,

And on the factory floor,

Began to dance a merry jig,

Thumping, to a self-made beat.

 

The old and the discarded,

The almost and the new,

Played merry havoc on the floor,

As the machines lurched in tune.

Next day no man could get near,

Without losing both his shoes,

for they’d take him

With them to the dance,

Then throw him to the floor

When he couldn’t keep up

And let him scramble away

Before they carried on the tune.

 

That week no one in town

Could understand

They all were left barefoot.

All the Shoes had upped and gone,

Look as though they may,

They could not find a single one,

Not even understairs

Nothing with a sole was left,

Their shoes had all gone rogue

They had danced away in the night

To the grand old factory dance,

So now the people were all bootless

Walking In the morning light.

 

So now the factory’s had to close,

The cobblers ran away,

The shoe trade’s dead in Pedley,

Every man goes barefoot now.

Sally Thom, she’s laughing,

Her Dancing Curse still strong,

Now Pedley is a dancing town,

So once a year at least,

The men climb back into their shoes

And dance a merry jig.

————————————-

 

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

 

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

 

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

 

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

 

paypal.me/henrythorpe

 

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

 

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

 

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

 

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

 

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

 

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

A Witch to Write

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A Witch to Write

 

I want to tell you she was kind,

She was not kind,

Though she was fair.

She did us well,

She kept us from deaths door

Too many times to count,

Saw our babes and lambs

Safely into the world,

Helped our dying leave,

In peace, at the last.

 

I would like to tell you she was well loved,

That we repaid her kindness

With gentleness, good recompense,

That would be an untruth,

Whilst we knew her gifts,

We treated her with scorn,

Neglected to make her welcome,

Crossed ourselves as she passed,

Though so many of us owed her dear.

Debtors are loathe to pay

That which they cannot.

She had never asked for recompense,

But the guilt, rotted us,

Ate at us, turned us.. foul.

 

Children would spit,

throw refuse at her home,

Torment her cats,

We? We just stood by,

Allowed it, muttering to ourselves

Of the cruelty of children

The games of the young,

Though our own muttering

Was the cause of it.

 

When the witch hunters came to town,

There was not a one

Who stood up to protect her,

Defend her,

Claim her as our protector,

Not our curse.

 

We let them take her from her cottage,

Tie her to a stake

On the village green

Where in better times

We had danced our

Mayday lovers dance,

And light that damned taper.

 

The fire that should have spread,

Engulfing her,

Took our village instead.

It lunged backwards as the rain fell,

Thunder crackling as the witchfinder screamed,

Leaving our houses ash.

 

She left with the winds,

“I tried, I really tried”

Left us all bereft of home,

Though all alive,

Except the men who

Had come to take her.

 

In the dust of our homes, we wept,

For we realised our folly.

Her cottage on the hillside was

As gone as she,

Not a stone to remember her,

Though we all knew our sins.

 

Our lives,

Our repentance,

A last kindness

we did not deserve

From one we should have treated better.

 

You can listen to this and a few of my others, read by me, on my soundcloud 😉

 

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Bruna Mae

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Bruna Mae

 

Bruna was a pirate queen

Who sailed across the sea

Through winds and storms

She sailed, she sailed,

She sailed across the sea,

Battles, wars, men she fought,

To win the seventh sea!

 

She sullied forth in cannon-fire,

Split King’s men with her sword,

Breaking hills and sharing booty,

She flew across the seas

Sails blowing in sea-Bournemouth winds

She flew across the sea,

So let’s all cheer our pirate queen,

Long may she reign!

She fills us up with wealth and beer,

She built our homes and kept us here!

 

Oh Bruna Mae, queen of the waves,

Who sails upon the sea,

Through wind and storms,

She sails, she sails,

She sails across the sea,

Battles, wars, men she fights,

And brings us home for tea!

 

She fought a drake off Whitby,

She broke Tortugas snake,

A Dragon Slaying Pirate Queen,

That’s our Bruna Mae!

Those Redcoat stuffy navy men

Never stood a chance,

Blown to pieces in the bay

As she roared her captains laugh!

 

Oh Bruna Mae, oh Bruna Mae!

Sailing across the seas

Brought wind and storms

We’re sailing, across the seventh sea!

Battles, wars, men we’ll fight!

A Pirates life it be!

 

With rousing cheer, we’ll follow,

Our fearsome queen at front,

Bows will rage,

Sails will bellow,

We’ll shout our songs

We’ll shout, we’ll sing,

Across the Night

Across the seven seas!

 

Oh Bruna Mae, pirate lord,

We’ll follow you through darkest storm,

Until we’re home and warm again

We’ll fight, we’ll sing, we’ll plunder,

Through doom! Through tide!

Through darkness split by cannon’s roar!

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Crossroad

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Crossroad

 

There’s a crossroad

Out on the moor

Where the winds whip chill

Spirit hounds howl

In the darkness.

Dead of night

Calls gallows-folk out,

To roam the hills.

 

This was a plague village,

Long gone, the ghosts

Walk paths in ruins

Lost in ages dust,

Crumbled almost away.

 

It’s just a crossing,

In the hilltops,

Roads, dishevelled,

From lack of use.

There was a town here, once.

 

Every night she rides out,

From houses made manifest in moonlight,

Silvery sword sheathed,

As she gallops into the night,

Towards her fate,

Another traveller in the dark.

 

Be wary when you walk the moor,

She rides for gold, she rides for more,

A fearsome figure, on her great white steed,

Pistol-fire and sword-clash,

Her calling is thunderstrikes.

 

She’ll rob you blind,

Or if you take her fancy,

She’ll strap you to her horse’s back,

Take you home across the hills,

To a village

That only exists

When the moon waxes

To join the shadow folk.

 

Be wary of the highwayman,

Whether your heart is pure or foul,

On the night-roads she travels,

Lone abreast her horse,

She’ll take you if she fancies,

Or leave you broke and sore,

She’ll ride off in the moon again,

You’ll ne’er see her more.

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

The Persistence of Dandelions

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The Persistence of Dandelions

 

Tumbledown helicopters

Spiral across the eddies

Of countryside breeze

Forever entangling

And dis-entangling

In unseen vortexes

Of springtime

To settle and

Be torn away

Or, when old again,

Be plucked from

Rest

By some giddy lover

To be set upon

The rivulets of the air

Currents again,

To, in pieces, soar

Across the world

Until

The ground intervenes.

They will persevere,

As with every weed

Ripped from the ground,

A thousand take flight

On an unexpected breeze.

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

 

Carrion

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Carrion

 

Once, our ambition stretched across the stars,

Great mammoths trundled, carrying frozen

Shipments of our kind to distant stars,

A thousand years from home,

That would be dead and gone,

By the time they arrived,

Defrosted on the surface of strange worlds,

Similar, enough, to our own.

 

We burnt our bridges,

The planet we left behind was scorching,

We thought to leave our ruin behind,

But we carried it with us,

In our frozen coffins,

Brought disaster, human,

To new worlds,

Became again that which had ruined us,

Left us bereft of home,

Leaving only shells behind us

In the dust of space,

Rivers of stellar dust filled with the debris

Of doomed flight.

Single frozen capsules

Jettisoned,

Left adrift,

Faces of passengers frozen

In eternal slumber

Jettisoned,

Never to make those first,

Trembling, chill-stiffened steps

Onto our new Edens.

 

A few of us were picked up,

By the craft that came

To pick at the remains,

Wrenched from our time,

By cryo-stasis,

Into the arms of our unusual saviours,

Aliens now, ourselves,

Catapulted into a life

So unlike our own.

 

We persevere,

Picking scraps from our,

now ancestral, passing,

Aboard carrion-vessels,

In hopes that we might

Fish a single, freezer-burnt

Leftover

From the ashes,

Trail of refuse,

Our kind left behind us.

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

What Larks!

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What larks it is on a summer day!

When everything’s going to shit!

The bus broke down

They left us here!

In this steaming puddle of..

It’s a lovely day!

The rain will clear!

What larks! What larks! What larks! 

It stinks! It’s gross!

It’s getting worse!

Those storm clouds are closing in!

Soon, we’ll be cold, damp

Miserable as sin,

At risk of death!

Or something worse!

(Like listening to you talk)

What larks! What larks! What larks!

I can’t believe you brought us here,

Why did you bring Clive?

He stinks worse than hell itself,

I’m sure he’s gone and messed himself

Not even worried that we can see!

Oh save us from this awful fate,

Or at least from one more moment,

Having to look at your putrid face!

What larks! What larks! What larks! 

We’re all going to die here!

So let’s just sit and wait,

If you say another word

I’ll run and leave you all alone

Into the woods 

I’m sure I heard

A wolf or bear,

Growling deep,

Who’d be better company 

Than you two freaks!

What larks! What larks! What larks! 

Lightning Hunters

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Lightning Hunters

 

In the the world before there was fire,

We sat, cold and shivering,

In our caves,

Waiting for a lightning strike.

 

A gift from the gods,

To carry home in ceremony,

Aloft,

Dangerous lifebringer,

That must be protected and fed,

Lest we spend another night in the cold.

In prayer we surrounded it, in love

For this mysterious blessing

That kept us from the night

Made our desperate hunts

Less risky in their prize

Knowing food would come

With less danger of deathly disease.

 

They said our ancestors made it from sticks

The elders, the storytellers ,

But in these damp lands

Of ruined towers

Great stone and metal precipices

Best avoided for fear of predators

There were little enough.

 

Once, we stretched towards the stars,

In stories, passed down,

We stretched too far,

Brought the god’s wrath upon us,

Filled great cities with poison

That great beasts fed upon.

 

We brought it upon ourselves,

So now we hide,

Last refugees of a dead race.

 

We search for lightning strikes,

Before the rain takes the bounty away from us,

Our brave hunters travel far.

For fuel and food and fire,

The last carried back as precious

As any of the rocks our ancestors cherished,

To be held in ceremony,

In the depths of our catacombs,

The hearth of our final days.

 

 

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Footprints

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Footprints

I walked as the bishop,

They bowed before me,

I looked disdainfully as

I passed along the aisle ,

Occasionally feigning to

Touch their filthy hands

As they raised them

Up, in worship,

Towards me.

 

I sat up as the hermit,

Left alone in the cave,

The last time i saw anyone,

They stared, as if

I was something other

Then them,

Once, long ago.

I left,

I’m closer to the truth now.

I know, one day,

I’ll find it.

I stepped back,

 

As the onlooker,

Covering my face as they passed,

On the way to their fate,

Grime-encrusted and foul-smelling,

I longed for the sweet scents

Of my home, once this parade

Of filth had passed,

Watched children pelt

these poor souls with mud,

Before I turned and ran,

Back to my own brood,

Slamming the door behind me.

 

As the actor,

I spread forth words ,

Written by another,

Given life by me,

Spinning worlds for

An audience entraptured by me,

As they would be,

For many nights to come.

I knew that whichever one,

Man, woman, that I

Brought back to my

Squalid little rooms,

Would talk if it

as a palace,

For years.

 

As the mouse I hid,

Whilst heavy feet

Slammed into the ground,

Making it quake,

As I slunk closer

Into my hiding place

It feeling less and less

Safe, with every

Shuddering

Impact.

 

As the hunter I smelt them,

They had been here,

The chase was almost over,

I paused, enjoying

The sensations of my

Weapons, as I readied

Myself, realised too late,

That this might be a trap.

 

 

Every moment, every soul,

Passed through me,

Was me, for a second.

I smiled, knowing where

My travels would take me

This merry evening,

I took my scythe

From the wall.

Image
————————————-
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx