#amwriting #poetry A break

These were written, often as Tag or as a result of it, back  98 – 2000.

I don’t really write Poetry anymore.


In the supermarket we danced
Back and forwards in our song
Of failed romance
Challenging our courage and turning circle
Hesitating in anguish lost
We passed our dreams and desires
Dreaming of you with blood red meat
Feeling for you in dark brown coffee
Words sprung amongst the batteries
Disappeared amongst the beer
We danced the dance of baskets
The tango of trolleys
Hiding our eyes
Avoiding our tongues
To speak in passing

In the street we danced
Your short skirt and my long coat
In our eyes we spoke
Nothing but desire
In the night we danced
Heating our bones
Desiring bare nothings
Wrestling alone
Whilst our minds lived
In the real world of our selves

In your earthy look
You took the time to register for me
A money saving offer
To my lust and my cost
A time for ourselves cut from the bargain hunters
Stopped by early closing
We trembled to crescendo
I bought beyond any means to delay the departure
But the cashier closed
With a smile
In the way we loved
Without needing to
Touching your eyes
With faint images of frozen delight
To whisper blown air
For our delight

Until we dance again

On rainbows we danced
remembering all the colours of our love
charmed by the neon green
and the breathtaking view
of how it all could have turned out.
Slipping down to the end of a fairy dream
caught inside a Hans Christen Anderson tale
you were Cinderella and I the prince
twirling around in magic
but like it always does
the clock struck 12
and it was over leaving us refreshed and longing for more
till we could dance again….

until we could.

We danced in the fire
we felt its flames lick our scorched skin
we dined with dainty blue china
drinking the heat from a tea kettle
We moved in one accord
we drifted through a dream
we lived
we loved
we fought
we cried
we danced
we danced
the dance of love and life.
Now all we dance is memories and dreams

But we still dance.

We danced on heated coffee
We licked melted cream
We wildly swept the table
We upset all we seemed
We splinted cups of coffee
Pastries to unknown
We made ourselves fools
So we could be at home
We failed at all we did
And thus began anew
We screwed up
Everyone but ourselves
Your kiss was just brand new
If our dreams
We loved
In our tries
We are a mess

Our glances hit 500(degrees)
as if we were baked roast pie
we forgot about everything
we made choices unwise
tho it didn’t seem so at the time
love ran out of rhyme
we tasted every flavour of skittles
nipping at the one in your shirt
the one from your finger tips
the one still wet from your kiss.
We did what we thought right
afterwards how we did fight
We were wrong You were the light
then you, my dream, I lost sight
destruction went from love to might.

The only table heated that night
Was the one we sat behind
We never had the onlookers
Fiery thoughts admired
We didn’t go for love
We were just on fire
Chucking down our water
Every choice unwise
Love never ran
We never got that way
We bowled each other over
Ripping at our shirts
I left my wallet behind again
You supplied the dirt

The grim reaper stole cupids arrow the was supposed to hit you and me making us sorry that we should ever be but it didn’t quite work that way and we cant forget we remember everyday the fire in your eyes the way I fit you I was the exact size we dream about what could have been and then we recall when you kissed me for the first time when I tried my first pick up line we laughed over what I said your gorgeous eyes would glow with you in my bed shared memories and dreams that lie the innocent way you look when u cry the generous side you showed to me back when we were free now we just wrestle with what ifs caking dried mud in sore wounds.

I found you electric in the batteries
I lost you in the beer
Grim Reaper was on discount
The store was growing near
He fired his arrow into my heart
Speared my Amex too
I supposed that mattered more to me
I’d lost more than you
I’ve never been sorry
We screwed everything we tried
Up against the wall, cashier desk, your hide
Fire flaming from your mouth
My cards went up in smoke
Now we have asbestos bags
And underwear to coach
You were the perfect pitch
We laid roads by the mile
Burnt them in an instance
We were the style
Incandescent we shared memories and dreams that lie
Putting out my fire with your tears
There we lied
In innocence I took you
In love I came back
Never any capture
Just the cactus that you lacked
I always applied the mud
To salve your every dream
I never could be more
Than below
Your best dreams

Maybe we went about it all wrong
this lonely dance
without a song
I’m afraid to ask
I’m scared to try
so I just stare blankly to the sky
in awe and wondering
as I often am about you
coz I lost more then you too
your were the last file
the last paper on my desk
I kept putting you off
but now I’ve no more room to shelf
your memory inside me
its waging its war
leaving me realizing I know I want more
more heartache and tears
if that’s at its best
just for the chance to test
and to try
to face all my fears
to love you once more
if you can deal
with the thought of me by your side
maybe this time we can do it all differently?

How did we go about this lonely song
We danced poetry
Without words
We didn’t fail
We didn’t know how to succeed
In the time to learn and understand
We destroyed the understanding
We lost nothing
We were too afraid to venture
We filled up our memories
With visions of wonder
Dancing on neon green rainbows
We changed the colour to yellow
There was never a fear of you by my side
Only the fear I had to catch you first
How could I trap an untamed freedom loving spirit
Tie her down to tamed delights
Blown on central heating
Across old matted sofas
That yearned passion from the mounded springs
There walls yelled sex
I yelled quietly
What had I bought a coffee table
Tying you to me
Destroyed you and we tried
In the danger, in the chase, in space
We lived
In comfort
We died

The Dance

Song of my feet

Sung with my heart

Magic with my body

Song of my breast

Sung with my loins

Rebirth of my land

Song of my desire

Calling you to fry

Rebuild my land

Song of my heart

Rhythm for your soul

Make it whole

I call you to fertilise

I call you to harvest

I call you to hope

I call you to burning

I call you to loss

I call you to cost

I call you from hunger

I call you from death

I call you for me

With my very breath

I call you

I am the dance

I call you upon the earth

I call you for all you are worth

I call you for my body

Look at my dance

Look at my skirt

Look at my legs

Come to me and flirt

Come to me dirty

Come to me honed

Come to me alive again

Come to me Home


Sorry Officer I didn’t see you

On my car bonnet, your dog

On my windscreen as well

Cleaning it thoroughly, is he

Well the weather is hell

Yes I thought the wipers were thick

But it looks happy

And it does like your stick

Yes I took the corner

A race

Are you sure

Gone with no trace

Yes I can see the Door

Oh the street sign

Behind my car, well

It looks fine

No I didn’t learn in hell

Or ever look, at those cars behind

It unnerves them

My crossing the road all the time

No I wasn’t on fire

Or a cabby on speed

Chased up the jungle

Or direly in need

And your suit is unusual

But the cut is divine

Rips seemed tailored

And coloured like wine

I wish I had your job

Rushing around all the time

You want a ticket

Well that is just fine

Just give me a second

There’s one hanging

On that line


Boy Soldier started as Bloody Hero’s Too and is tied in with Politicians sending young people to die and then killing those who don’t have the good grace to die.

This was tied in with my thinking on Duty and leaders, usually Politicians again, who facing defeat at home start a war abroad.

Duty uses a chorus and the chorus is aimed to represent the feelings as the battle descends to those who actually do the fighting and fighting as the foot, they die by the inch, so read the chorus in the context of the words you have just read.

Ethnic Cleansing was from Bosnia but could be applied to a lot of countries and wars.

Boy Soldier

The drums were beating hard that day

Barefoot I marched along

Lost in the magic

Dreaming to the song

Never known a good day

Nor meal or rags to fit

Barefoot over cobbles

Marching time with my stick

Winter blowing

Softly hard


O so grand

Patrolling through the yard

Guarding my grand stand

A few more years

I join

Wear a decent coat

Fill up my belly

Until it stops at my throat

Smartly marching in the rain

Rifle by my side

Clean uniform for life

To be so satisfied

Cheers echoing softly

Kisses flustering by

Boys follow as we march

The ladies

By and bye

We board the boat

Flags are still

In the empty chill

My warm coat

Seems to bring naught but ill

My face is in the earth

My feet are digging too

The sky is flashing light

My stomach flashes too

No one else is left

I hid within my tomb

Digging all I could

To see my mother’s womb

No one came back

But I hear marching feet

I look at the steel at night

Can someone beat retreat

I wait for that death

Dishonourable I know

It doesn’t matter how you die

It just matters how you go

I have no qualms for my coward’s life

I’ve lived it all I could

I started at the bottom

With the heroes right on top

When the killing came

They all felt they should stop

So they sent us out poor souls

To make it to the top


About Dave Page

I'm now working on Astoria. Sci-Fi/Mix of Future and Past. Dwarvia decides to rid herself of several hundred thousand Prisoners plus Dwarfs who've made the mistake of falling out of favour - big-time. Published books: Parky's Lunch, Afters and Teamtime, and Magic Midnight are the books in the Parky's espionage series. FYOG - Don't Wait Up and I May Be A Long Time are the two books in the FYOG series. The Good, The Bad, And The Awful Poetry Book is not that awful and all available on Amazon. Dave served with the Royal Navy for 8 years including 2 years in an ex Japanese Execution Camp in Singapore before embarking on a career of Accountancy and IT lasting some 40 years in Europe, the UK and the Far East before writing. During his Royal Naval Service Dave represented 500 guys on a Welfare Committee for two years and worked on two Royal Tournaments including putting up pay with the Bagpipes practising in front of his office and the RAF Dogs joining in behind him. Leaving the Royal Navy Dave worked in a Funfair and a Pub of the Year in London. Born in London, Dave lived in Chelsea for 10 years and now lives in Gloucester. Dave on Amazon is https://www.amazon.com/author/davepage
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