The Butterfly | by Abraham Fieldsend

Walking home the other night I saw a butterfly,
at least I thought it was a butterfly.

The closer I got, the clearer it became –
it was a small piece of plastic dancing in the wind.

A Feeling of Warmth | by Abraham Fieldsend

The waves are breaking against the rock gently.
The promenade is lit with a gentle orange hue, and dusk sets in slowly, fading into the sky.
A light breeze is whispering to me, humming a wonderful melody.
I hear the sea. She is singing quietly to me, the waves on the rocks are her orchestra.
The sun is setting and the night is awakening, but a vibrant warmth still permeates over the horizon.
I hear the music of the taverns behind me, the laughter, somewhat distant, but close enough to hear.
My heartbeat is calm, my breathing relaxed, swaying like a tree in a breeze.
I stare out into the oceans heart, a slight fog dancing on the water’s surface.
I turn and walk sideways along the front, skipping and whistling with the wind.

While the air is crisp and a shiver sails along my spine, I feel something else take over, steering the ship.
A feeling of warmth.

Creature in the Wilderness | by Steve Jones-Robertson

Deep thought and wonder,
trapped in a glorious haven,
basking in heat and toil.
Lost in your shadow.
Your reflections haunt my every move.

Our Broken World | by Abraham Fieldsend

The theatre of lies does demand to be seen,
Through tabloids and media - more power than the Queen,
Spreading their false facts, showing lack of humanity,
While we are home, playing games with our sanity,
And yet we all know how this world we live works,
But nothing is done - still the threat out there lurks,
What’s the threat? The virus? Or our chamber of leaders?
And we go, for our answers, back to those fear feeders,
The media, those spiteful and treacherous foul folk,
Harming and spitting on our world, a world that is broke.

Adversary | by Abraham Fieldsend

You’re trying to solve a problem that isn’t there,
a conundrum with no clues or answer.

Constantly striving for something more,
but the road keeps extending.

Hours feel like lifetimes, and yet,
the days disappear like a whisper in the wind.

Cries for help trapped in a skull shaped cage,
for true voice and expression left this place eons ago.

Anxiety blooms like a dark and dangerous flower,
and the heavy rain of depression falls.

You’re underwater, submerged by dread,
the weight of each moment weighing down.

There is light at the end of the tunnel,
but the journey is narrow and thick with tar.

The dawn of difficulty will rise, but dusk awaits,
that’s where salvation and joy slumber, waiting patiently.

The Star | by Abraham Fieldsend

I saw a star in the sky,
shining through the clouds.
It was the only one.

An Idea | by Abraham Fieldsend

A river flowing,
flowing up the hill,
against gravity it climbs,
upon reaching the summit it fires,
into the sky the water erupts violently.

The Hidden Words | by Abraham Fieldsend

It’s a shame you will not speak,
Nary a thought goes amiss,
But words do escape you.

Deep sorrow or unrivalled happiness,
No mention of the holy or unholy,
Not a glimpse of intention or opinion.

A blank canvas guarding complexity,
It is not for us to know or ever know,
Will we ever hear the hidden words?

The hidden words,
The potential words,
The assumed words,
There are not.

SOS | by Abraham Fieldsend

I have a bit in my shoe,
A stone, a crumb, or something,
So I walk a little further, irritated,
Flicking my foot to move it,
To the side first, then maybe to the back,
But no matter how hard I try,
It stays right there in the middle.

I’ve Split My Lip | by Abraham Fieldsend

I've split my lip,
Not a wound, not enough,
But it hurts nonetheless.
It split when I smiled,
So I take care when smiling,
Because the pain is gnawing.
It didn't bleed, not all wounds do,
But it's dry and sore and torn,
And the pain is real still.

I've split my lip.

All of the above work is protected by Copyright.

© Copyright 2019, 2020 & 2021 Abraham Fieldsend & Steven Jones- Robertson.