Dan Reynolds Poems

Oh to be a gastropod and walk upon my belly
I'd slither like a slimy sod and hide in someone's welly
Knowing you won't look too hard,
for fear the smell may hurt your nose.
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They've left a candle smoking
neath the mirror's icy gaze
Freshly doused, invoking
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Effect and consequences play their part
regardless of the perpetrators' role.
Their own departure dislocates their heart.
Perhaps their mind's mistaken for their soul?
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How can the merest mortals mend the world from all its ills,
when words are all the ammunition left, to pay the bills?
What kind of self-delusion does it take to make a Bard,
when Barred is more be-fitting as we play the drinker's card?
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Leave me never, leave me now.

Leave me never, leave me now
Leave the sweat upon my brow
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Chleenchama Rackhathu.

Beneath the Arms of Rutherglen
a stirring has been heard
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You're not like a gas flame...
Or I would see a point of nothingness
at your base.
That invisible rush of expectancy
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The soundtrack to a life may cause offence
if chosen from the tunes that we have bought.
Inclusive and abusive, in a sense
when dredging up the dirges we’d forgot
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The crumbling o’ the dry-stane dike
Its saddened sedimentary state
Hard graft, the farmer’s lads won’t like
But to the sheep? An extra gate!
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Not even one ripple, to reflect on the hull,
So I strung out my hammock in the “u” of the lull.
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