My first in my legends and inspiration series.
Marker and Acrylic Pen
Robert Smith
Tag Archives: Nostalgia
The Ditch and the Den
The repetitive patterns in the winter leaves made Clarke feel like he was playing on a carpet; from a once forgotten lounge.
Swallowed by the forest, the air felt milder; an invisible, unscented smoke hovered high above the refrigerated mince of woodland soil.
On the ‘Otherside’ (from beyond the ditch) were perfect branches and twigs a plenty; perfect for finishing the greatest den.
Clarke jumped into the ditch whole-heartedly, a ditch created by the landing of a clumsy giants arm, and he disappeared toe to head in the deepest, softest patch of leaves imaginable.
Miraculously, Clarke discovered he was on the ‘otherside’. Standing there, looking on at his parents; they seemed statuesque in their mid stretch and bend to collect their woody additions.
‘Mum… Dad?’ He called out to them nervously.
They couldn’t hear him or see him, for they may as well of been painted on canvas and hung as stillife in a hallway.
Clarke panicked, and jumped into the very same patch of leaves.
Relief immediately surged through Clarke’s small frame… He felt he was somewhere safe after all. Clarke ran like a bouncing, rolling jack to his parents who continued to forage with renewed vigor.
Here and Now
The traffic rushes by
Like the memories in my head
And the day is upon me
As soft tyres lose their tread
All the roads blur smooth
Like yesterdays future news
And the day is upon me
What rushes is still in cruise
All i know is…
And all you know
is what i show
In the here and now…
Souvenir
Now that being there; is now always near
And since then where have we’ll been? –
By the fridge near that bridge…
Leaning on the ridge of ‘Decorated Windowsill Hill.’
Nowhere on Pause
That moment before the future,
That directly succeeds the past.
If you’re lucky you’ll even catch it,
Through its travel; though it never lasts.
Listen to the Music
I listen to the music
That attractive noise
I’ll listen to The Fall
To The Beach Boys
I listen to the music
So candid
Therapeutic
A stinging to my ears
So enjoyably caustic
I listen to the music
For instant nostalgia
Of where I was
Who with
Or when I found ya
I listen to the music
I love that drone
So finally I can sleep
Until the notes find home
I listen to the music
It conjures such love
Into my ears
Let it roll with a loose shove
I listen to the music
Feeling happy or stressed
I’ll listen when calm
Intoxicated
Badly dressed
I listen to the music
On various compilations
Those imperfect and personal
Golden-oldie stations
I listen to the music
Like a hit from the hits
I listen to the music
When the moment fits
I listen to the music
And here’s the chorus now
I’ll listen
Until the music’s over
… T’Pau!
‘What part of your life did I walk into?’
Teenage Lust
He was all of eighteen summers,
She: just seventeen short winters.
In love; he connected fully with spring,
In love; her longing best served in autumn.
Together they lasted all but four seasons.
And yet years later; as they recall,
They’re split was for no reason at all.
Some Telephone Conversation (She Said)
So I said wouldn’t you have thought they would of known?
She said I know.
I said, well it’s just not good enough!
She said I know.
I know you know I said, but I’ve said I’ve said one too many times already!
She said she hadn’t noticed until I mentioned it.
But then, she said, thinking about it she said, I didn’t like to say but that she was glad that I had said so… in the end.
So that made us really laugh, and then we both said, ‘speak to you soonly’ at exactly the same time!
We just wet ourselves laughing!
I think we told just about everybody about it! Anyway, I had the dinner in the oven, and she said her son had just popped in to say hello, so we had to say goodbye…. yep, bye, oh ok, oh no! Really? Never-mind, yep, bye-bye then, yeah, ok…by then!
The Very Young
The water rushes in
As an irresistable force
Towards distant twinkling lights
There
Miniature soldiers
Talk amongst each other
And their glow bugs
Sleep flying
Over and on crumbly cake ramparts
So overlooked
By a hovering fluoresent luna
Showering its moonbeams
While particular water
Lick sandcastles
Fragile upon themselves
With amateurish foundations
And so it’s true!
By children they are best made
They so do implore
The Little
Are softly strengthening
Tatty-bent-books
The boundless
Seeping
In old folklore
I Eat Let.ers 