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STEPHEN CUTHBERTSON

 

I am currently studying creative writing at the Norwich School of Art and Design. I first became aware of poetry while in a band learning to play bass. At that time I was also attempting to write song lyrics for the band. However, I found myself writing poetry instead. 

 

 

 

A Sparkle in my eye

 

It’s over when it’s stopped

When the view is gone

When red dust forms

The clock strikes five

The door locked tight

Perception broken and burned

The blue soft pile floor

Sights crumble to nothing

Waiting till scenes stop blurring

And time stands still

She’ll walk in

Black dress, blue hair, blue eyes

A sparkle that remains

A part of the dies

 

 

Submission

 

Naked and bare

Whispers in mountains

Skin warming my heart

Tender aura bleeds on my pulse

Rising on your oceans

Rippling waters

Slight waves sway

My body contorts

No tears, it’s too familiar

   

 

Mirror

 

I could love you every day

But I don’t

I just sway round and round

Soft leather under tough boots

I wish you well

 

 

Re-Birth

 

Floating slowly through air

Soft saltation to blue Danube

Led by a symphony of string

A gentle rapture

Bathed and caressed

In nature’s cradle

 

 

Death of the young

 

The apple tree turns giving a nodding wink

Benevolent guardian, sovereign state

Where tears no longer wet bring flowers to die

An apple snatched by an invisible hand

Dropped in the soil with rotting ambition

A shudder and a tear grasp my shoulder

 

Memories transport me against the tide

I relinquish control of the apple

Under the shadow of her fading name

She would have been 16 today

   

 

Redundancy

 

The river ebbs, turning a pleading look

The wind whispers rhymes, wistfully at his ear

Tollbooths heard familiar eyes

Headlamps beacon towards his yesteryears

 

I observed him day after day

Smiled passed, went on my way

 

The iron rivets and red slopping frame

Rise before him in defiance of rain and rust

Even she, aged beauty, needs scaffolded care

Or down form will fall, in metallic dust

 

I observed him day after day

Smiled passed, went on my way

 

 

   

 

 

copyright © Stephen Cuthbertson