Steve Rogers's blog

BROKEN TOYS - 1918

BROKEN TOYS - 1918

 

It is nothing like we imagined it,

Nothing at all.

Rolling through green.

Death. Just a fall.

 Exaggerated cries and laughter.

No. Nothing at all.

 

This place is dirt and blood.

I think we have broken the world.

Broken all that was good.

My friends are casually thrown away

 forgotten quickly.

Broken toys.

 

Hands close on wood and steel

give and take life.

Scars on dirt and paper

give and take life

 

This place of rage

and sorrow

endless death and broken toys.

PRIDE AND SADNESS - 1918 (1700...2009)

PRIDE AND SADNESS - 1918 (1700 - 2009)

 

Pride and Sadness here today.

His Majesty's Ship

ITAMUS

black and shallow

bring

first dead home.

 

Slow, soft rain soak

Spirit and cloth.

 

Across her deck

Men Stand Straight.

Rain falls sad as children's tears

Burning Slow

as  flags unfurling

indifference and greed

pride and sadness

 

ALL OF LIFE IN THIS ROOM

ALL OF LIFE IN THIS ROOM

 

All of life in this room

voices and colours and touch.

do you think love can be held

like stuff and hands

and hot coffee.

 

This place now, loss and colors

gold and blue and pale English green

casually dropped like calls not made

  promises once whispered

 

you left with no words or songs or kisses

The light is still beautiful, you know.

 Were you once stood.

 

 

WINTER - 1918

WINTER - 1918

Searing white light, burn everything before me.

You in my arms

Still in my arms.

If i go Now

In a blaze of no glory

You are still in my heart

and i am content.

The taste of your skin changed everything for me.

Your name on my lips, i am content

and if they doubt me or beg vain storys

be still in the night and know you are mine.

 

There is peace in a life laid down for a brother

So many things i did not expect.

 

Fear is a taste that will never leave here.

And war is hate, frozen mud and starvation.

And i loved you like no one before you

And i love you now and i am content.

SEE YOUR BEAUTY

SEE YOUR BEAUTY

You loved to walk in foreign land

Wet clay in your hands shaped 

into something real

Bare footsteps on anchient ground 

tread gently on memory and loss

You saw love in empty souls

and beauty

 in dark waves,

blocks of stone

and tools,

Colour,

Cloth,

and pain

Your beauty it surrounds me

I see your grace in chiseled stone

joy and laughter 

in splashed paint

Why couldn't you.

The Traveler

The Traveler

Sit with me awhile.

Here by the fire.

It's good to watch it slowly die.

I like this light, low and flame red

tell me of the things you loved.

Pay no mind to my dark clothes,

forgive me

my empty smile.

I am here for you.

Only you.

Blood flows like thick red joy.

Footsteps and laughter.

Touch.

Tender.

Soft as love.

Gentle as last breath

held forever

forgotten like kisses and regret.

Come with me now gentle one, ancient love.

Collector of life and good things.

Hold my hand, 

walk these paths with me

 one more time.

As our fingers slowly part

do not fear my beautiful friend

I will always wait.

We are travelers.

Your Not Coming Home

 

Your Not Coming Home

Time runs through little fingers

like cold water

Hands old as trees

knarly like roots and

thick branches touch soft cheeks

red as summer apples

Everything, still like you left it.

Needed it to be,

 still.

The things you loved

undisturbed by time or me

Lovingly kissed by age and dust.

Your memory

a ghost image

long forgotten

My mind has never been free

I want so much to slip into

something

safe.

I remember soft

shivers when

I touched your skin.

Just yesterday

Your not coming home are you.

 

The Broken Road 1918

The Broken Road 1918

Moving softly through our blood and pain.

Fractured limbs and courage.

Small white thing

little bits of peace and calm

Is this what love is?

Cool hands.

Hushed words

The boy next to me

swimming with Morpheus

drowning in gentle eyes

“ i am so sorry'

he says

 his hand

as he dies

held softly

The bones knit the pain fades

and

 the nightmares start

She makes us

whole

almost

ready to tread again

the broken road

of hate

 and

 death 

and

 waste

 

Blue Paint

Blue Paint

I think I understand now

what you meant.

I am  a million shattered memory's

My lonely artist.

you whisper

'I break on paper and canvas

and soft lips' 

Blue light.

Blue ribbon.

Blue paint on your fingers, 

always.

Sometimes I catch you dancing through

 brush strokes.

Your almost smile.

Fleeting.

Too beautiful to hold

SEARCHING FOR ME

SEARCHING FOR ME

I have been looking for me today

under chairs and in cupboards

In the park and through streets

crowded streets

Have you seen me at all?

I must be here somewhere

if you find me

please send me home.

I can hear you calling, I am just here.

Lift the vail.

I promise I will wait.