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Aug 2016 · 717
Dab
Simon Soane Aug 2016
Dab
When you slightly explode
a sky still
still
fills with fireworks.
Just a dab of your fantastic
&
lights are lit
everywhere;
tiny steps of wonder,
illuminating.
Aug 2016 · 258
Turn
Simon Soane Aug 2016
You
sleek
with
advancement,
turning battles benign;
all fronts blue and sun:
special is your name.
Aug 2016 · 828
Air
Simon Soane Aug 2016
Air
Superlatively brilliant
you held my hand
with an accord all your own;
that was a time of magic
when it was easy
to be air
with each other.
Jun 2016 · 620
Delightful
Simon Soane Jun 2016
It's delightful!

You're as delightful as Christmas snow
and when I realise I haven't turned my MP3 player up as loud as it can go.
You're as special as laughs with friends
and those books with happy ends.
You're on par with brilliant beaches
and as wanted as succulent peaches,
I love your reaches
to me.
You're as fantastic as a rubber ring to a sinker
and as Friday wine to a weekend binge drinker.
As great as the on time train when i'm running late
and as ace as a welcoming gate.
You're as fine as a clean bill of health,
there's lots of WOW in your wonderful self.
Jun 2016 · 466
Name
Simon Soane Jun 2016
I said your name a lot in May
but I say it more today;
in June I yap your moniker with impromptu ease,
as green fills the leaves.
It feels like you're arriving,
in the start
of
summer
Jun 2016 · 428
Spin
Simon Soane Jun 2016
A pirouette on ground;
your twirling turns the sun around.
Jun 2016 · 310
Trickle
Simon Soane Jun 2016
If you were condensation
I’d have you in every room,
bringing joy to the pane;
refracting the light of summer again.
Jun 2016 · 1.4k
Thursday
Simon Soane Jun 2016
It was sunny today,
the hot light
fantastic,
and warm.
After drinks in the pub
we walked back and chatted,
ever ready for talk
us two
but,
said softly
I wish I was with you too.
Jun 2016 · 554
Miss
Simon Soane Jun 2016
I miss you like maps miss fingers,
Like mikes miss singers,
Like bells miss ringers,
Like cakes miss bakers,
Like lakes miss boats,
Like bad swimmers miss floats,
Like politicians miss votes,
Like doting parents miss school plays,
Like nymphomaniacs miss lays,
Like necrophiliacs  miss graves,
Like hypochondriacs miss prescriptions,
Like ****** misses addictions,
Like carpets miss friction,
Like Billy Bunter misses midnight feasts,
Like the grim reaper misses grief,
Like Henry misses the goodfellas,
Like sand sculptures miss umbrellas,
Like Rubix cube devotees miss puzzles,
Like rabid dogs miss muzzles,
Like Van Gough missed his brushes,
Like speed freaks miss rushes,
Like pens miss paper,
Like the Mona Lisa missed Pater,
Like the canvas misses the creator,
Like how the thirsty miss water,
Like the hungry miss food,
Like ***** miss the lewd,
Like the mind misses mood,
Like the tides miss the moon,
Like the sane miss the loons,
Like the dark misses the light,
Like the brave miss the fright,
Like the kite misses the wind.
Like a phone misses a ring
Like every misses thing.
May 2016 · 834
Map
Simon Soane May 2016
Map
The roar of apparatus,
very fine
we speak;
soar the map of clap us
every time
we seek.
May 2016 · 463
Easy
Simon Soane May 2016
It's easy to write words about you,
there is no deliberation over syntax,
these letters get
sequential run;
natural as blue sky
holding new sun.
May 2016 · 466
Tick
Simon Soane May 2016
Although
it's only a day
until I see you
it feels like 3
million years,
hours of avalanche
before we dance.
Not aware where time is
when we flare
& spark
the zoom of us;
we meld with high fives o clock; hands of the
tick and the tock.
May 2016 · 524
Kaboom!
Simon Soane May 2016
Like footsteps that tell of encroachment
you're never
a surprise;
until,
from still
you rise.
May 2016 · 887
Monday
Simon Soane May 2016
Being a weekend binge drinker I don’t really like Mondays
my poor fragile mind is in a alcohol daze,
my limbs are slow and heavy, each movement is a trial
I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after swimming the length of The Nile,
I lop around all zombiefied my legs are full of lead
my eyes are groaning loudly, like an extra from The Walking Dead,
I’m on the verge of snoozing, I do that sleepy involuntary ****,
I pinch myself real hard “Si you have to stay awake in work!”.
So I take a trip to the disabled toilet and have a nap on the ceramic floor,
hoping I’ll feel much better after this tad of a tiny snore,
I rouse after ten minutes and decide to control this ***** ridden strife,
I must get a grip soon, I want a grasp on this Monday life,
a light bulb pings out of nowhere to brighten my maudlin mood,
this sweet recovery will be engendered by lots scrumptious of food,
so I indulge in a savoury overload and gorge on toast and crisps;
Discos, Hula Hoops, Quavers and defo tons of Frisps,
on my dinner I scoff a Mac Donalds and then a Greg’s sausage roll,
this hungry Homer gluttony helps to sustain my whole,
the calorific sustenance does it’s job and my hangover starts to diminish,
I gaze at the computer’s clock and think “hey it’s time I finished!”.
I ponder “ohh I can glide home knowing my day is done
and if it stays sweet and bright I can enjoy a few hours in the sun,
after that I can watch Breaking Bad and catch up with Coronation Street
while busting out the texts and having more to eat,
yeah I’m see what Walter White’s up to while being really greedy,
wait a ******* minute, tonight’s when I’ve said I’d help the needy!
*******, **** **** **** ****, that’s my evening of chilling down the spout,
rather than a hammock night in I’ve got to venture out
and feed a load of ungrateful gits who don’t even clear their plates
and ask me if I’m a cross dresser while sniggering with their mates,
rather then see if Jesse gets caught by Hank and how the story unfolds
I’ll have to scrub those scrubbers dishes pristine while wearing marigolds,
as oppose to nodding off reading with a Rustlers under my front room lamp
I’ll have to put a load of cutlery away after making a 20 sugar brew for a *****!"
So I decide the Wellspring is off tonight as I really can’t be assed going
I’ll just graft extra hard for *** next week and keep the drinks a flowing,
so I’m just about to pick my phone up and call in with a excuse that’s pretty lamey
but then I realise if I don’t go I won’t get to see Amy!
Suddenly there is a spring in my step, my motion feels on point
I shower very quickly and post drying roll a joint,
I have a zip in my posture as I sail and blaze down the road
all my thoughts of staying in they instantly erode,
I think “Amy is ace and topper, in her company all is fun
she’d make a day of gloom resplendent with the sun,
her chirping silly noises are always brill in the air
she turns my giggles to def com one, I laugh without a care,
I mean I know I'm hilarious, I can feel my own strengths in my head and tummy
but when I'm with Amy I'm even more funny!  
She makes it all sunny!
Cos we can berate that gormless Declan who eats with the speed of a cheetah
say he's troffing all the time, like a professional eater,
we can spray a bit of water, have a lot of chat
teleport through nonsense with the free degree of claptrap,
chill around the washer where all the cool kids hang
kicking back like Gs, knowing all the slang,
flick a fleck of sausage then have a speaking swirl
flex the talking muscles with sweet balletic twirl.
I mean she's not perfect, she could improve her lot
she's pretty immodest, always going on about how she's so hot,
alright supermodel, calm down, yeah, okay you were blessed with good looks
be you know being arrogant really ******* *****.
And she don't like the ***** cats, her brain must have a feline blur
how can she not warm to their whiskers and their contented little purrs,
her eyes sometimes don't always work and she is optically infirm
and she steals pies from the scrotes, she don't know to wait her turn,
she'd stab you in the back for a go at the counter, she's always trying to grab the lead,
and added to all that she can't even ******* read!
(I'm surprised you can read this actually.)
But i'll overlook these foibles, her flaws aren't yet that drastic
she has to merge some yang in there to be so yin fantastic!
Ahh, in this life where what was can no longer leave a reflection
it's always super to feel the natural flow of connection;
glowing with simplicity
our joyous synchronicity!"
So i approach the door of The Wellspring and feel sweet and glad
and think, "you know for a Monday you aint turned out too bad!".
Tad of context, Wellspring is a homeless shelter place I work at, obvs I don't really think they are all tramps, just fun for the lols of the poem!
May 2016 · 433
Soon
Simon Soane May 2016
Aww you,
close as air
but far as the moon;
near today
then away too soon.
May 2016 · 581
Always
Simon Soane May 2016
Always blossom
when you appear,
the sweet knew
at the forefront
of new;
wonderfully,
delightful.
Apr 2016 · 510
Contrary
Simon Soane Apr 2016
At the mo
the folds of hot
and cold
won't be
unless
spring is out
and winter continues
to be frosty
too long;
"frosty too long"
as if,
with heat on the back.
Apr 2016 · 691
Good Cat
Simon Soane Apr 2016
If not for
you
letters lessen tween
Mum and me.
No "just give her a bit of milk Simon"
occupying a space or
"she's in now, she's safe, she's by the fire place".
"No, don't give a cat bread"
unsaid.
Unsaid.
Thankfully we've feline fine
with purry lingo bopping;
I love you
and
love the sight
of engendered convergence
by tabby dynamite.
Apr 2016 · 1.3k
Dear
Simon Soane Apr 2016
There are a lot of important things needed to be happy in life,
that stop the dark rising and save the mind from strife,
like hilarious acts and moments we find funny
and as much as it pains me to say a bit of money
so we can do other fun things like go on a night out,
singing the hours away with a beam and a shout,
or a sweet song that glistens around the head,
or an engrossing book to read in bed,
ordering a take away and gorging can give a thrill
or back to back box sets on a Netflix and chill,
and just as crucial as having a top mate to phone
is having a place that one can call home.
Having an abode to go to when employment is done
or a domain to grab some water to quell the heat of the sun,
a space to collapse when infused with inebriation,
when getting tired of tracks, a warm safe station,
a place to get ready when revving to go out in the mix,
yeah, you were all of the above dear Flat Six.
Yeah, I’ll hold my hands up, you've been a ace place in which to live,
okay you were full of damp and the bathroom wall flimsy enough to give,
and when the verdant Eden outside was chopped down it made me mad
but you were only a short walk from my Mum and Dads.
You had plenty of perks,
fab tree out back and close to work,
a 24 hour garage a stone's throw away,
that sold the ***** at night and day,
you were near a cracking paper shop that had had 2 bottles of wine for six quid a go,
suffice to say, el vino did flow.
Your living room was massive enough to play big with a cat
"always a good time here" etched on your welcome mat.
Under your roof was awesome, you engendered joy with ease,
effortlessly making great, just like the cleanest breeze.
Now although you as a building yourself is a important component in amaze
other factors also make a simply brilliant phase,
Like when friends came round for fun and revelry
after we had left the club just after three,
we'd all pick up the ingredients for a ***** do
and jump, and groove with soothing coo,
the ether resplendent with "I love you!"
finely balanced between boom and cautious,
chatting committed, gabbing voracious,
sunk into fun under your light,
the wonder of spun on Saturday night.
Now, it wasn't just at the weekend when friends came to say okay,
there were some sweet gatherings on a Wednesday,
no women, no, just a range age of men,
it could only be mid week Breadren,
we could be having a conversation about how New York seems most tourable
when a voice pipes up, "by the way bel ami my cousin has cancer and it's incurable."
There could only be one guy who brings such depressing roars
the harbinger of gloom known as Two Doors.
He'll bleat on about how his niece has no womb and is totally barren
and next to him lives a kingpin drug baron
"they are shifting units at a furious pace
and ski in more in more wizz than ******* Scarface."
He'll change the subject in the blink of an eye
and go from talking about love to who's going to die,
he doesn't like most women, thinks they are a squawking flock,
he loves men though, yeah, he really likes ****.
A mate can come out and say sobbing he doesn't want to be with a lass
while Iain does think, "Ross, let me in your ***."
His friend could weep and cry with a whimpering cough
while all Iain thinks, Ross, **** me off!
Never mind Grinder, get on my fleshy old man log."
The third guy Martin is off shooting up in the bog.
Yeah, lots of people talked in your four walls
but you provided the space for those stupendous *****,
you were brill in December, springing in May,
really awesome in September, probs cos that's when Louise came to stay.
You held our pre festival clutter with happy behest
and often covered in bottles on Monday, a big glassy mess,
oh you had everything, simply one of the best.
As I’ve said, Flat Six you as the area were great
But a paramount importance in that was housemate.
You see some people can bond and connect in the hub of a club
but when sharing an address each other up the wrong way they can rub,
although they can go to a gig and have the most divine of laughs
when they abide in the same abode they go together like low ceilings and giraffes,
arguments start over the heating not being turned off
or who hasn’t took the bins out or who’s had some of the others food to scoff,
they bleat that “you shouldn’t have gone out for that night on the *****
And then made noise when you got in as you knew I was trying to snooze!”
or “why did you have that night on the coke, you see more of Charlie than an oompa loompa
and have World War 3 over a borrowed jumper.
So yeah, it's sweet when you find a shared space dweller
and who you think is swell and you get on really well,
as when after a day at the office and you perhaps want to chill alone
when they rap on your door to discuss the day you're glad their home,
skating through conversations with the p of pace
raucous at pontificating and waiting in the listen space,
bringing the talk with dazzling natter,
singeing the fork with frazzling chatter
to ensure the words cooked go down warm,
go down a treat, go down a storm,
discussing that wowing tomorrow is pay day thrill
and who was to blame for the initial breakup of Ross and Rachel,
top gabbing, it was brill!
Someone who when the elephant in the room is sniff
you both realise it quick and score in a jiff!
And never entertain the waste that is a tiff,
not for us the sign of a rift
simply super, a kind of bliss,
see I love Joe Flat Six, I love him to bits!
Although, like you  and your constant mould
he wasn't perfect (like everyone), if the truth be told,
you see if you follow all the biblical teachings you've been taught
you'd think he would have thought,
"I can help myself to the dental care and washing hygiene, it don't matter that I haven't bought,
I can use what I deem, Si's not the selfish sort,
he'd give me the last drop of his shower gel if he could,
he defiantly would,
so do unto others as they'd do unto me
and as I’ve got this human cleaning fluid for free
I’ll leave him some plentiful dollops on the side so he can bathe in a Lynx Africa infused sea
and I can leave some mouth polish laid in the shape of a cleansing leaf
so he can keep the fillings to zero in his teeth
then I can take the rest as I’ve been true to my sacred beliefs."
Yeah, that's what he could have done.
Instead he grew horns and committed a Luciferian act
and thought "I'm taking all of that!",
Sartini, you Devilish ****.
Nar, I bet you didn't even think that at all,
you were too busy imagining going out and having a ball,
beautifully bouncing off every wall,
riding the waves of Wet Dreams with total aplomb,
spinning tunes while high fiving Tom,
cool as ice cream and hot to trot
country hopping and swigging spirits by the tot,
at least Shannon seems to have diminished, that ****** robot!
she had more wires than C3PO's thighs
and glazed over R2D2 eyes
fair dos you digged her metallic allure
but did you really want to make love with the Terminator?
Ahh but who cares about a bit of shower gel and your cyborg fawning
it was great singing along as the day was dawning
And obvs I know every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end
But it’s only natural to miss living with one of your best friends.
So far be it from me to encourage your narcissistic gaze
but Joe you can add top housemate to your list of fortes!
So dear Flat Six to summarise
I’ll miss sitting out your back in summer rise
looking through your big tree with my eyes
at the Saturday sun azure blue skies,
I’ll miss that whatever there is to unfold
won’t happen over your threshold,
I’ll miss coming in your space with loads of beer
And chill with tunes while mates appear,
I’ll miss the midnight moving across your floor,
miss my key going in your door,
miss that it’s not your clock telling my time
miss that you’re not mine when I say “who wants to go mine?”
But now you’ll always be more than an address and a collection of bricks
I’ll always love you,
dear Flat Six!
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
Loosen
Simon Soane Apr 2016
Although things fall apart
in constant movement
our ties suggest,
for now,
a loosen unknown;
a knot not seen
in the swift of melding.
Apr 2016 · 404
Stopping
Simon Soane Apr 2016
A hurricane
stopping slowly,
the torrent dispersed
to be other air;
us as we were
before a hint of together.
Apr 2016 · 674
Us
Simon Soane Apr 2016
Us
In our held hands
the hot sun
and wet rain
the same;
not noticed the bloom
in another happening
of now.
Mar 2016 · 1.2k
Bus
Simon Soane Mar 2016
Bus
It's very easy to miss the last bus on purpose
and use that gloomy subterfuge
as an excuse
to walk you home;
sans expectation,
of course:
you do what you want,
that's one of the options,
in the myriad of many
that you obviously have;
as you always tick over,
you always go forward.
Mar 2016 · 3.2k
Meet
Simon Soane Mar 2016
Between all the light breezes
we could meet,
the spaces where breath
breathes in joy
and be glad that this is it,
and movement now is our thing;
a magic of moment.
Mar 2016 · 824
The New
Simon Soane Mar 2016
Like the new hot air
you are what it is
straight away,
warm,
to the heat of our norm
while it's our while;
all is best
in your smile.
Mar 2016 · 1.9k
Covers
Simon Soane Mar 2016
If you were a blanket
you'd be full enough
to keep the cold out,
& big,
& all encompassing;
wrapped to safe as safe can be.
Mar 2016 · 727
Every Time
Simon Soane Mar 2016
Every time
you're a Valhalla,
or some other land,
the most rushing meld of pallor
in our heldest hands.
You're a pinnacle of journey,
a warm and safe abode,
in the burden of the box
you're the lightest carried load;
my shoulder no corrodes.
You're the best seat at the banquet,
you're the high in every view,
you're the finery in gliding,
you're the wing of every flew.
Feb 2016 · 702
Valentine
Simon Soane Feb 2016
Some make a rigid Valentine decision,
and decide to treat the day with derision,
they say "it's manufactured and just a unit shifter
containing with anchors, no lift her."
Moaning "it's nothing, a card from the shop,
you're doing the curtailed capitalism hop,
you balcony scene flop."
Well, well done you feel more confident in your expression,
and not have to validate your impression
as it's taken as it is,
nice, that must be bliss,
but what is wrong with a day that says this...
a knowing I want you with a hall mark,
the look of arrive in my ball park,
a box of coca to give you a clue
that I really do, I really do love you,
flowers abundant to tell you how great
you make wow myself and anxiety alleviate,
maybe a reason to go for a meal and chat to the hilt
about how we are fantastically built;
any day that acknowledges this theme
is serenely seamed,
and,
not stupid;
high five to cupid!
Feb 2016 · 822
Fireworks
Simon Soane Feb 2016
Between me and her there were lots of fireworks
and that is to name but one of the lovely perks
we created and ran through by being together
feeling warm and secure, whatever the weather,
we felt heated and glowing in every single trot
but there is one day in particular we were both very hot.
We’d spent a lazy Sunday  watching the television
eradicating our hangovers after a ***** collision,
didn’t move from the sofa unless to go to the loo
lay in each other arms, we knew love was true,
looking into eyes with synchronicity’s kiss
knowing full well the meaning of bliss.
As time went on we started to feel lewd
but before those fleshy moves we thought  we’d get food.
I sauntered off to the takeaway with both our requests
for me kebab and chips for her fried chicken breast,
I was in a spicy mood as later I knew later we’d get course
so I asked for my meal to be smothered in strong chilli sauce.
When I got back we scoffed our purchases down fast
the thought of our steamy coupling already had me at half mast,
we dabbed away the remnants of our grub with serene care,
“right now you, get up them stairs!”
We tore off our clothes with the speed of a cheetah,
I licked my lips, I couldn’t wait to eat her,
down south I went and started lapping away
“baby are you in for a sweet treat today!”
My jaw was working hard, I had drool from jowls
when suddenly from her came a blood curdling howl,
she screamed, “have you poured lava on my ******, it’s burning like flames
If this carries on I’m going to go lame,
I’m all for red hot passion but this is too much
my ***** feels too volcanic to touch,
It’s like on a Bunsen burner I sit
I’ve got Mount Vesuvius bursting out of my ****.”
I thought what could be the cause of this fiery malaise,
I pondered and mused as in pain she was glazed,
then I found the root of the problem as she shouted her self horse,
I didn’t wash my mouth out after that hot chilli sauce!
I said, I’m sorry, I’m sorry we should have waited until the heat had died down!”
She writhed around and hit me with a furious frown,
“well think about that next time, you ******* clown!”
An hour later when her agony had subsided
we sat on the couch and stroked each other’s eyelids,
she said, “although that hurt, I suppose it’s quite apt.”
surprised I remarked, “how do you figure that?”
She looked and me and smiled thru her winning smirk,
“because between you and me baby always fireworks!”
A little riff on memory, good times!
Feb 2016 · 1.4k
Heights
Simon Soane Feb 2016
Talk of a flood
rises to the top,
and then
stops,
rescinding gently,
too much
ceased
with ease,
as thinking on
the sight
of those heights.
Feb 2016 · 274
Obviously
Simon Soane Feb 2016
Obviously
you lit a fire in me.
Not the kind that requires
frantic calling
when out of control
and at the least decimating
in strong wind,
or turning cinders
when ignored,
spitting threats of consume
to all
with every rose,
no, not those.
This is contained,
filling my space
with the heat
of you;
obviously,
you lit a fire in me.



.
Feb 2016 · 372
Winter Birdy Park
Simon Soane Feb 2016
Not waiting for return
& craning for perhaps distant flap
of wing.
Or to hark when all will be a flutter
with colour & movement,
arriving with the know of bloom.
Not to think that.
Instead settled while migration back far from thought at night;
but when they do,
swift in flight.
Jan 2016 · 5.2k
Red Hair
Simon Soane Jan 2016
Although your red hair looks ace
any colour would flow well with your face;
sewage blonde speckled like an unwashed sink,
decayed purple, ***** pink,
sobbing violet, ***** brown,
snotty yellow on a unwashed frown,
manure sliver with a rotting hue,
***** orange, or suicide blue,
they'd all look good, look good on you.
And yes your scarlet locks shimmer with plush
but everything looks great next to your mush!
Jan 2016 · 712
Bye Bye Great Sofa
Simon Soane Jan 2016
You,
the platform of merriment
moulded to the moment;
always the best seat in the house
Jan 2016 · 1.3k
You're A Good Tree.
Simon Soane Jan 2016
All the time you never hid
from season,
heeding the turns
instantly;
moving
with now,
no waiting
for green.
Jan 2016 · 376
Top
Simon Soane Jan 2016
Top
In your company
we hop to the top,
our held hands hold
the air we draw on
near the summit;
running gravity out of town,
what goes up
not coming down.
Jan 2016 · 342
9
Simon Soane Jan 2016
9
Maybe,
now,
nine
planets near
enough to name;
another lucky thing
to exist
in the time of you.
Jan 2016 · 281
Practically
Simon Soane Jan 2016
You're practically a mantra now,
sans repetition
held soft
in a good dream;
I forget your name
in the bloom of now.
Jan 2016 · 574
North Korean Scientist.
Simon Soane Jan 2016
I barely heard the noise outside
but knew it was loud
when others started teeming in,
thanking me for fission skill
and atomic will.
I hadn't the heart to tell them
the thinking of you
made the earth clap,
not the heating of hydrogen;
I knew we were the equal parts of the same element
and realising that
I was in my element;
a space shared with you,
that boomed
and sounded like the start of a big bomb.
Jan 2016 · 577
Bright
Simon Soane Jan 2016
The bright in your face
makes all my butterflies
come out,
it's the natural reaction to such dazzle;
so simple, so rising.
Dec 2015 · 297
Roar
Simon Soane Dec 2015
A roar of suggestion
now as faint
as ancient pillars
holding up air,
majesty diminished
by time
but still rooted
in a ground that sparkled
with the start of bloom;
a run to fantastic
that never came soon.
Dec 2015 · 367
Mum At Christmas
Simon Soane Dec 2015
With swift intuition
Christmas day
always feels like Christmas day,
it's own unique parapet
where reach becomes now,
& close grows,
& cats
always land on their feet
& know the meaning of treats ; grub full.
You've made every Christmas good,
you're too good.
Settling platforms for festive forms
where love is the norm,
as papers' torn.
Dec 2015 · 258
Winter Warm
Simon Soane Dec 2015
You talk
in reminders
of spring,
through branches
that have never heard of you,
or seen the colour green.
Running in empty,
the bright in store,
what you'll all be;
a supreme full together,
good for each other.
Dec 2015 · 295
Ship Shapes
Simon Soane Dec 2015
Although your departure was imminent
it still smashed
more than the bottle
of bon voyage,
fragility sank in too;
the days
and nights
without you.
Dec 2015 · 413
Christmas
Simon Soane Dec 2015
Rather than write
a Christmas card to you
I wrote this for you.
And that's not because
you're not
on my Christmas card list,
you are (lucky you)
but instead
I wrote you this.
There are folk on ma Christmas card list,
my Ma is on ma list,
cos whenever I'm home
Ma makes me feel like I'm missed.
And friends who see me through fog
when I'm caught in the mist.
And a card for Father
who explained the wow in tryst.
Other friends get a card on the list
for their music and bliss,
I suppose causing bliss gets on the list.
And as you've caused bliss
you're on the list,
for;
the joyful daze in days,
you sometimes made Sundays sun days,
with talk of ace
and gave
a slight gaze
at
synchronistic blue,
top you.
This is not write in Christmas card,
it's writing for you.
Merry merry Christmas
merry Christmas
to you! ***
Dec 2015 · 653
Bricks
Simon Soane Dec 2015
You're as bright
as a big
beautiful wall,
not solid
at all;
an enchanted vast
master class
that marks a phase
of amaze;
a light pass win
at begin.
Dec 2015 · 1.3k
Stomach Talk
Simon Soane Dec 2015
In the shape of your movement
my tummy is stormed
by jingles
and foxtrots,
it leaps a ballet
as you punctuate
air
with glorious panache.
It always tries to run everywhere
when you
come into view;
all the tumbling roams
at the slight tour of your smile.
Dec 2015 · 985
Clocks
Simon Soane Dec 2015
For seconds
there is a purpose
to everything,
and all that matters hums
with a breezy intensity,
the coincidental collision clockwork
murmurs
right on time;
and all the charms
and all the chimes
are you.
Dec 2015 · 553
Plush You
Simon Soane Dec 2015
When I used to be congested
I coughed
and spat
with all my might,
but at this moment
my plugged drains
with a flick
of your hair,
no more need for splutter chucks,
all types of plague run off
when you swish with
all of you.
Dec 2015 · 336
Mind
Simon Soane Dec 2015
About to leap
to fill
but then
stop,
as it does;
what it would always
would in the time of
it's own,
no need to delve
for could,
or should;
just a roam in the will of always would.
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