My Cemetery Walk

Wasted days or relaxing thoughts?
Screams of passion lead to naught
Taken far and slapped on face
Darkness over cemetery finds empty space
Grave held low & roses grow
Shaping shadows on those I know
Moments play & sounds escape
Crossing fields as hidden snake
Blood flows thin on stolen win
Whilst cold hand rests on old man’s chin
Take the time & let it roll
Time I say for midnight stroll
See the dead & hear them sing
Watch the movement of silent wing
Bird of prey and harvest moon
Frozen winds and coated tune
November rain or evening mist
Loveless lives & forgotten kiss
The pathway leads across the field
My body broken begins to yield
I’m sure soon that death will force
My mind to stop and then in course
Weep once more and shake in pain
As I remember hand in hand in lover’s lane
Beside her grave I lay down and weep
And feel my heart pulled down deep
To mix with dreams that I once knew
And mix with her and seep on through
In pain, in death, our lives will merge
And maybe then I’ll feel such surge
That stand and jump are actions made
By old man broken, who lies afraid
Perhaps one day in secret lips
A drink of life will soon be sipped
& dreams and hope and smiles be found
By passioned excitement in arms abound.

~ silly dreams within my mind as I walk through the cemetery
© ed simkins

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Back From Holland

flying with the angels, scared to death of ending
camping in the muddy woods, storm trees are bending,
copies of machines, with riders in all directions,
a thousand windmills & canals, my maps & bright detections,
Amsterdam to Rotterdam, Arnhem & between
A million beautiful buildings; oh the joys I’ve seen!
Statues of Fikkie, Santa Claus, & monuments to the past,
Fortifications of independence which somehow seem to last,
Photos of architecture, mixing up the heights,
Simplicity & grandeur merged with Dutch insights,
Then parading in Brielle, shooting & all those smiles,
Walking all dressed up, crowds were seen for miles!
The colours & the splendour, the fun & all new friends,
Wishing that life’s adventure could stretch without an end
Worichem & Gorinchem, Utrecht & the lost,
From wild camping & roughing it, to hotels bought with cost,
Geertruidenberg & funny smurfs, families of fun,
Broken down in swamp boats, & food enjoyed in sun,
People of perfection, the owners of my dreams,
laughing & a-crying & joking all in streams,
from the bells of old day worship, to the grills of food delight
creating memories of happiness wildly into night
then Arnhem & the war, with death & all destruction,
a blip between the nations, when relations do malfunction,
oh the beauties of the Dutch girls, all cycling along,
all breaking my heart such, that I break out in a song,
a portal in the pyramids & a lake of sleeping beauty,
sadly I head off home then & fly over North Sea,
Eyes full of beauty, from the buildings to the girls,
& memories of the miles cycled or spent in new Dutch world,
Dreams created, fun times had, memories were born
My body sits back home now, but my mind is still forlorn,
In the places I experienced, in the people that I met,
In gratitude I send my smiles; to the Dutch I’m now in debt!

~ The End of My Dutch Adventure 🙂

© Ed Simkins

Fears & Adventure

Cacophony of fear. I’m scared to death.
That dreams should take a final breath.
I fly today. A foreign land.
No love is held. No female hand.
I drown in sorrow. Of loves gone past.
Escape is needed. Escape at last.
I dream of you. an unknown name.
One who dreads & feels the same.
Music soft, & cello played.
Relation past, I wish had stayed.
Panic falls in cold dark tears
As all my hopes they disappear.
I’m scared to death & fate it snares
As aging man I dread to dare.
I’d love again if heart was free
To kiss the wind in symphony.
A perfect love that resonates
in beauty held for which I ache.
Three figures stand around me here
The past, the present & death so near.
The past is her, my broken wife
A girl who died with sacred knife
She slit her wrist to ease the blood
In crimson tide & ending flood.
There’s death that’s close & follows me,
I fear a waiting obituary,
A heart attack or painful fire
Or still alive in burning pyre,
& then there’s dream of porcelain girl,
Who smiles & giggles in dizzy curls,
My sweet desire, my late night fun
The girl to kiss, my only one.
& all around this set of three
Lies orange land & brazen sea
soon escape with mind & heart
& see how God will play his part,
Will I die in flaming wreck?
Or love all night on maiden’s neck?
Obsessed with fate, I’ll avoid the gaze
Of death & try to conquer days,
& maybe then between nightly freeze,
Love’s true call will quickly breeze
Into sight with victory
& send me joyful company.
Let’s hope for love, let’s hope for thrill,
Let’s hope for justice; a new sweet girl.

~ See you all soon. Thank you all for the joy & smiles, support & warmth you’ve brought me on here. More poetry & rambles when I get back folks…

© Ed Simkins

Travel Fights The Burning Heart

If love were real then dreams would flow,
And silent tears alone would know,
That smoke & hate are haggard’s thoughts,
From rounded women that money bought.
I’d turn to see my golden child,
My pretty girl with pretty smile.
Imagination keeps her there,
In pleasant place where all men stare.
Adventure calls to far off lands,
With dainty girls & youthful hands,
Orange sun & crazy laughs,
Midnight feasts & camping drafts,
I’ll freeze to death in roadside grass,
Unknown to secret lovers past.
I dream of one who love admires,
The girl who lights my yearning fire,
& there she is; naked, toned,
Fantasies, orgasmic moans,
Whose playful whim, which sparkles so,
& teasing actions that makes things grow.
But plane arrives in Amsterdam,
This girl I leave, her biggest fan,
For if I believed in marriage told,
I’d live with her til I was old,
We’d travel much & love much more,
We’d see the Alps & Pacific shore,
Each bridge we’d cross, I’d stop her still,
& kiss her lips & smile in thrill.
Travel becomes a girl so young,
Like music set to sensual song,
We’d sway in June & sleep in May,
Caress her body each gentle day,
Her warmth in soul it radiates,
& fills my heart with love that aches.
& as I plan & flight will take,
Alone I leave, though not forsake,
That precious dream who resides in me,
How I’d travel with her if love could be.
For call me mad, or call me fool,
God lets me dream, though he is cruel,
I wish to love that naked spark,
& leave this love within her heart.
So let me settle with maiden dear,
& I‘d travel not with distant fear.

~ Happy Travel coming, but I dream so much of HER.
© Ed Simkins