Brian Joseph Dickenson

I’m girding my loins for the war that’s begun
It won’t be a bloody war.
Just one in fun.
...

Picking through old photographs.
Recalling ghosts of the past.
Remembering people and places,
But the pictures are all that will last.
...

A screaming silence envelops the land,
Ghostly armies are marching.
Not even the sound of a muffled drum
To mark the soldiers passing.
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Beneath the oceans restless skin;
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Clambering down from the cliffs above, down to the shore below.
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Missiles in the afternoon,
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As age takes its toll and our bodies fail.
The young sit around and listen to our tales,
Of days long past, when we were young,
And the world was ours with a song to be sung.
...

Fingers poised above my keys,
Waiting for inspiration.
Brain not working, nothing coming.
Cerebral constipation.
...

I love my cup of coffee in the morning.
Drinking it while droopy eyed and yawning
Connecting through the Internet
To Poemhunter, the best site yet.
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We are bringing
Democracy’s torch.
Tho’ your land,
We may have to scorch.
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I miss the touching.
I miss your fingers through my hair
as you passed behind my chair,
I miss the touching.
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I open my eyes, the car smash still playing in my brain.
I’m unhurt:
I look around. It all looks so strange.
‘Where the hell am I? ’ I shout:
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The air is crisp. The sky is clear.
The frost it bites and stings the ear.
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Of all the people, places, things,
I miss, as I grow old,
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Once more the falling leaves of autumn
Herald in cruel winter’s blast.
Fading, dying, summer blossoms
Call to us of days long past.
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Lying at ease in the firelight.
Hunting alone in the dark.
Staring, with eyes hypnotic,
As it stalks the doves in the park.
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Decorated dwellings,
A festival of light.
Christmas stars and Santa’s,
Lighting up the night.
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Tossing and turning,
Sweating and yearning.
My dreams are all about you.
I awake all alone in my crumpled bed.
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Drifting through labyrinthine corridors of my mind.
Peering into dark corners,
Afraid of what I'll find.
Searching for a reason for being.
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From blackest skies the thunder roars,
Like creations cannons booming,
Lightening flashes rend the air;
Apocalypse riders looming.
...