leaving Vancouver blues

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leaving Vancouver blues

he sits silent on the greyhound
as it slowly moves downtown
the past is close behind him
treading on his shoes
his mind is filled with emptiness
leaving Vancouver blues

he sits pensive on the greyhound
as it travels south at speed
the past is left behind him
dirt falling from his shoes
his soul crowded with loneliness
leaving Vancouver blues

some places leave a mark on you
some people do that too
some places you have never been
some you want to go back to
some people you have never seen
some people that you miss
some people you might think about
your mind will not dismiss

a fleeting thought an untouched hand
no words no might have been
the past is far behind him
like laces from his shoes
his heart is choked with nothingness
leaving Vancouver blues

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l’oiseau et la lune

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l’oiseau et la lune

a bird on a wire
grows restless very soon
stretches wings and feathers
dreams of flying to the moon

turns towards the heavens
believes his indestructibility
strives towards dark rain clouds
unaware of the futility

climbing ever higher
harbouring no fear
struggling for a breath now
in the lack of atmosphere

an angel sees his effort
takes pity on his plight
breathes a puff of oxygen
helps his courageous flight

she thrills to see his bravery
can’t estimate his worth
refuses to let him perish
returns him safe to earth

a bird is now disconsolate
knowing he can go no higher
an angel sets his heart at peace
hangs the moon beneath his wire

* * *

Please note that due to the changes recently enforced upon us by WordPress I plan to phase out this blog.
All my writing will appear on https://ceayr.com/ where I have already transferred the bulk of my posts from the past 8+ years.
I will post a weekly link to this new site for the foreseeable future.
Thank you for your support, I hope you will continue to visit.



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call me

© phil burns

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call me

call me when
your next love leaves you
when you feel down and blue

call me when
you think you need me
because you’ve no one else to turn to

call me when
you want someone to talk to
and no one else will listen

call me when
you’re alone and frightened
that your life is sad and over

call me when
that hole is growing
inside your broken lying heart

call me anytime
or preferably
never

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Wedding Day Blues

wedding day blues by phil burns

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Wedding Day Blues

the ice was cracked and spiky
the glass was smashed and green
the water black and filthy
but her hands were soft and clean

he was tall and wore a soft felt hat
he stood in front of the TV
no one could see the wedding scene
so they turned to torture me

the bride was bathed and lovely
her lingerie was white and fresh
the window was wide open
so I watched her as she dressed

he was in a smoked-glass limousine
we hadn’t met in twenty years
when they replayed the honeymoon
the men were all reduced to tears

a cloakroom overflowing
with hats and scarves and gloves
our long black coats showed danger signs
as they dragged across the dust

she said come back here later
I will take you to my room
there were cats and kittens everywhere
she thought I was the groom

she said she’d have them all removed
I will make it spick and span
if you will lie with me tonight
you will always be my man

I was too old to be there
I left quietly while she slept
the sky was dark the stars were bright
I was happy yet I wept

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rock faces

rock faces by anelephantcant

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rock faces

we dance around the Côte d’Azur
visit calanques by the hundreds
it thrills you every time you see
where the ancient earth was sundered

you love the courage of the trees
clinging to impossible rock faces
the tide that trickles up the beach
washing away all hopes and traces

poverty of imagination
brings clarity of thought
and tells your heart which dreams are true
and which loves are sadly not

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the faces

the faces by phil burns

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the faces

the faces change but the people don’t
they all act aggressively
one man becomes another
who lies weeping helplessly

the city workers laugh and joke
they have no worries no concerns
they know that they are getting paid
no matter what they might have earned

my brothers arrive surprisingly
they are seldom seen together
the fact that most distresses me
is that one has been dead forever

my sleep is restless quite disturbed
my dreams terrifying and vivid
so different from my waking thoughts
which are mundane and insipid

the rain comes down in torrents
the streets are greased and slick
the more I think about my world
the more my heart is sick

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la guerre éternelle

‘passed by’ by phil burns

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la guerre éternelle

her face was bruised and bloody
she would not tell me why
the dark-haired man in the high-cost suit
just smiled as he walked by

two brothers were still fighting
their shirts and suits were torn
the traffic stopped the people watched
as a legend there was born

the butcher told me nothing
he wouldn’t sell his pork
the blood was spilled across the floor
in pools of light and dark

the chops were frozen solid
I had bought one yesterday
he told me they were farmyard fresh
so I took one anyway

she showed me where the men had gone
she was afraid that I’d go in
they came back out they didn’t care
their eyes were hard and thin

I followed down the busy street
they loaded money into cars
I called the cops they wouldn’t come
they were fighting different wars

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Scotland

Scotland by anelephantcant

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Scotland

when I think
from afar
of the land
that I love
I realise that much
is almost clichéd
like haggis and tartan
Robert Burns and the skirl of the pipes
the Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond
the Doon sae fresh and fair

but I love too
the River Forth
spanned by three bridges
and three centuries
half-ruined castles
full of legends and ghosts
our lochs long and grey
with mists above
and monsters below
battlefields drenched
in tears and glory
and the spirits
that walk them still
Skye’s dark sharp peaks
and
Ayrshire’s green rolling hills

I love
that you still nourish
my heart
and my soul
I love porridge
and
sunlit heather in September

I love
that
our National Animal
is the Unicorn
and
our National Flower
the Thistle

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my spider, again

spider by phil burns

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my spider, again

I wonder what she hears
when I speak to her
the little spider
who now shares my home

I address her in French
of course
it seems somehow arrogant
to assume that she’d understand
or tolerate
my west of Scotland brogue
invading her world in a foreign tongue

she no longer flees at my intrusion
into her little corner
but seems to regard me
with indifference
if indeed
she regards me at all

it may be that she is
as unaware of my existence
as I am
and probably you are
of all the tiny creatures
we trample unthinkingly
beneath our feet
every day of our lives

so I talk softly to her
and hope that she senses
my affection

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how

apart by anelephantcant

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how

falling in love is a magical thing
like springtime an inspirational start
but when my tears fall like brown autumn leaves
how can I mend what you’ve done to my heart

the joy I feel when we are together
fears the grey doubt when we are apart
and now you are gone with no hope of return
how can I mend what you’ve done to my heart

each time that we meet I am dazzled anew
a Mona Lisa of natural art
but no artist ever born can paint over the ache
or help me mend what you’ve done to my heart

these are the questions I have no answers for
how can I possibly live through this pain
how can I mend what you’ve done to my heart
how can I fall in love ever again

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