Congratulations to Richard Hirst for his Heart-felt and moving poem which won him his own book of poems produced and 100 copies printed.
It feels like life depends,
On that four letter word,
Fast beating hearts
Wanna pause when it's heard,
A bee swarming the bird,
My stomach's lined with butterflies
Conversation's running dry
So making up another lie
I contemplate if love is blind my eyes are static,
In my mind I see us strutting side by side in marriage,
Could this diamond be a woman I'd be-wife and have kids?
Slowly she unwinds the bandage that hides my life of damage,
Embracing silent language as I'm brushed by her gentle touch,
Then ended up being crushed by her heavy foot,
I feel the pain turn my trust into jealous lust,
I was walking water now I'm stuck in a bed of mud,
Never thought she could ever stun another with a second look,
As her character swings I'm stumped and wonder if I dreamt her up,
No longer a pleasure thrust,
Conflict is strong within,
Lost in toxic thoughts severely lovesick and vomiting,
Tryna' find its origin feels like I'm pulling teeth,
My muscles weak gums are bleeding plus the blood's not sweet,
Swarming her defence I pull and push to see what's underneath,
But she defeats the situation speaking tongue in cheek,
She calved away and cut the key that entered my life,
Using a jarring blade with rusty teeth to sever the tie,
Now my heart's a racing drum machine
I can't degrade the thumping beat
Or calm this raging thunder feel it's ready to strike.
I re-enact the past days when I carried that flame,
The smoke turned black as the candle wax caved,
Walking hand in hand we'd make the gathered gangs break
And see the busy inner cities fade to baron landscapes,
I track and back date,
To one I dearly met with open arms
Now they pose a guard 'cause between them rests a broken heart,
Though I try and close my palms once she speaks they're swept and blown apart,
'Cause the one who tore my soul apart keeps the thread to sew my scars,
See I thought I held a queen but found the dealer sent the joker's card,
I used to be her world now I'm not even left a token part,
The golden start,
She lit my life but over yards
It quickly died and what hid behind that fictitious light was cold and dark,
Nothing but a phoney actress in disguise that stole the cameras,
On the photographs that show our past moments captured,
I turn the worthless frames to broken glass, stroke the matches
And burn our perfect date to smoking ash and roaming gases,
I'm closed to laughter nothing penetrates my hard face
There's no escaping when your devastated heart breaks
Half-way, everything I thought was real was just some leisure game,
Fist full of petty change for her arcade
Through dark days of constantly grieving,
I seek an option but only find one to believe in,
All I can do is stay alive, conscious and breathing,
Until I regain that bliss of psychological freedom.
Richard Edward Hirst
