Footprints

Tags

actor, bishop, death, dreaming, folk, folk atories, folk tales, footprints, hidden, hunted, hunter, life, love, lust, mouse, onlooker, poem, poetry, souls

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
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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

Vines

Tags

bastion, battle, castle, castles, city, death, family, folk, folk tale, fort, fratricide, life, love, medieval, peace, plenty, poetry, sword, vines, war

Vines
In the wilds, there are only ruins,

Where the fortresses stood once,

Protection from the tide,

That took our civilisation

In the distant past,

Our castles could not stand,

But our city did.

We lured them, 

Pacified them,

Not with steel, but with plenty,

They tore down the gates of our bastions,

Left them empty shells,

Burnt and hollowed. 

When they came to our city,

We let them in,

Opened the gate,

Came to them 

Not with fire and iron,

But with food, welcome,

Relief from thirst.

We taught our great oppressor

That perhaps the plenty of our land

Could be shared

Instead of burnt.

This last act of desperation 

Was taken, by this tired army,

Our leaders spoke at last,

They were brothers, torn by power,

When their father died.

Finally, we had peace, 

Embraced lost siblings

Hand in hand,

Tears mixing

In hearth’s warmth

At last.

The castles still stand empty

A reminder, 

That in vanity and pride

We had fought our kin,

Brought our ruin upon ourselves,

And soothed it in the end,

Not with brimstone,

But with kindness.

————————————-
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

Shelter

Tags

ashes, death, embers, fire, life, Mountains, outcrop, poetry, rain, rock, safety, shelter, storm, travel

Shelter

 

 

There’s always shelter somewhere in the storm

Repeat it, as a mantra,

To protect from gales,

Buffeting rain turned to blades

In wind ice cold, penetrating

Even the warmest cloak,

On the hillside,

Far from home.

 

 

The journey will take its toll,

A price exacted upon you,

It may or may not

take your life,

It will be forever etched

Upon your soul.

 

 

There’s always someplace warm,

Some crag to cower under,

From the worst of nature’s wrath.

 

 
The storm takes,

The earth provides,

Though rain can soothe,

Mountains take lives,

If disrespected,

If the toll is not paid

It will exact it upon another.

 

 

 

Blood runs in the ground,

Washes away in the torrents

Becoming one with the earth again,

Leaving little trace of your path,

But ashes left under
An outcrop, embers
For the next traveller
To re-ignite.

 

 

 

————————————-
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 Gardener

Tags

age, beauty, chaos, dandelions, disorder, flower, flower bed, flowers, Garden, gardener, ivy, legacy, life, love, natural, nature, order, planting, plants, poetry, seed, topiary, trees

The Gardener

 

 

Pruning weeds she snips

At the unwanted growth

Protruding from corners

Disrupting orderliness

Blossoming where they should not

She snips at imperfections.

 

 

Raking leaves, fallen mess,

Seeking to marr her creation,

As the seasons pass her by

Every day a new task

To maintain this monotony

New buds ripped up,

Thrown to rot.

 

 

She wakes one day,

Realises this is no longer right,

Now in blossoms, weeds,

She can find beauty,

There is wonder in wildness,

Majesty in disorder.

 

 

She still snips, prunes,

With a more delicate touch,

But only where the wildness

Threatens to take the life

Away from those it threatens,

Where it will strangle

Or envelop irrevocably.

 

 

She lets the dandelions blossom,

Until they spray wish-seeds,

The Forget-me-not bloom,

Pastel reminders,

Hazel and Ivy spread and cover,

The stones that make her home,

Straight marching hedgerows

Shoot electric-shock hair.

 

 

She watches her work,

With a smile, knowing she can

Rest when she is done,

The garden will live on,

Changing form with the seasons,

Even without her care.

 

 

————————————-
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

Slate

Tags

abandonment, age, history, industry, leftovers, life, lonliness, memory, mine, mountain, nature, old, poetry, reclaiming, ruin, slate

Slate

 

 

The mountains survive

Their bellies emptied

Of the glass sharp stone

That was their life’s blood,

That fed the men who took it from them.

 

 

The mines are dead,

The mountains live on,

Taking discarded

Intestinal shards,

to armour

Their surface,

Leftover Debris,

minecarts fallen

For the last time,

On tracks that lead to nowhere,

Left to rust for too many years,

Now shuttered in place.

 

 

Walls that barely contain their purpose,

Though they still stubbornly stand,

Unaware that the men who built them,

The great wheels and chains

They housed, are all long dead.

 

 

Nature takes her bounty back,

Trees and wildlife abound,

Where once the land was stained,

Black with coal, pierced with metal,

That rusts, lonely,

On the mountainside,

Unearthed shards of blue stone,

Shine in the sun,

Wet from rain,

As shoots of life

Return to this cold valley.

 

————————————-

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