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LIZ TEAGUE


★

“I’ve loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” – Galileo Galilei

Dedicated to everyone who I have dared to love and everyone who taught me how to dream.


Contents Serendipity ........................................................................................................ 4 Sleepless ........................................................................................................... 5 These Storms .................................................................................................... 7 A Riddle .............................................................................................................8 Approaching Autumn ....................................................................................... 9 An Unexpected Guest ..................................................................................... 10 In Fields of Grass .............................................................................................. 11 Aptitude ...........................................................................................................13 Con Dolore ...................................................................................................... 15 After the Ending.............................................................................................. 16 Tomorrow x3 ...................................................................................................17 Sunday Best .................................................................................................... 18


Serendipity We created these oceans, you and I; a flood to cover the miles and reflect a cloudless sky lending us beams to build bridges high but nothing was ever lost as every word spoken was another bridge crossed drawing each other closer to the naked eye. Serendipity, we are never far apart for every sentence ending means another to start and all I speak of comes from the heart – never a trinket to be sold, everything good will eventually turn to gold settling in its place, our lives, an extraordinary art.


Sleepless Midnight Oh, but to lay in bed staring at blurred stars; these naked eyes cannot quite comprehend and I don’t mind for the skylight window is eyes wide open to a galaxy farther away than sleep. The sheets, where I toss and turn (hunting for sleep) have changed but the sky stays the same and I wonder, if we are alone as clouds race across the sky like horses after the blast of a gun.

One o’clock If I could close my eyes and reach out to you I would but you are already lost in dreaming; the sparks of sleep burn bright with the slightest touch. Besides, you are miles away (and have been for years) it’s a distance I can’t quite bring myself to cross.


I close my eyes briefly, and listen for the metallic roar of cars but a wind chime song is now my lullaby as I think of all the things I would say to you if you were to awaken and share this night with me, what sweet music it would make.

Two o’clock No, I don’t mind that the stars are blurred because so are dreams when the morning sun shatters. These lines I draw in my mind between the constellations and satellites are bridges I could never build to you; they have moved with the changing of the seasons as I have moved too and it was this thought I fell asleep to.


These Storms I must borrow these storms for a moment for they do not belong in June and I well I would like to keep them for a little while. On my windowsill I line empty bottles of beer to collect each and every drop of rain that falls until, for five minutes or so, the sun comes out; you shall say to me “Shall we go now?” – I hesitate for I do not have a raincoat and there are darker clouds in the distance and the wind is pushing them closer and… and I have a million excuses. With these words you turn away taking care to close the door and I am alone once more waiting for the clouds to come to fill these empty bottles with raindrops.


A Riddle forgotten, but not lost so easily you can recall me when time is not the cost you cannot live without me because I am the protector, the shield of everything you hold dear it may come as no surprise that I am a gift the final frontier for love to cross and in the unveiling, walls are broken barriers are demolished I could make you happy as the years pass, you leave your memories with me and time could take you far away from where I am another hand could hold me, or I could be at your disposal I am a....


Approaching Autumn It will be autumn soon, and the great blustery boughs of green trees soon to be burnt to a reddish dying flame summer love will fade away for the star spun nights will lose their sway and nothing good can remain the same. It’ll be autumn soon, we will clutch each other’s hands before the fall of leaves that scatter around these naked twigs frost which begins to settle in every crack of long ago strengths that cannot be brought back and nothing good will come of this. It’ll be autumn soon, followed by the darkest winter ever recalled but spring will swiftly emerge with the pouring rain the earth will spin, time will pass, life goes by whilst our story will have ended with a sigh; It will be autumn soon, and everything else will stay the same.


An Unexpected Guest a skin too pale, delicately imperfect festering under a summer sun and writhing, serpent in the shade fire, fire burning bright shielding her eyes she turns away and rips out the pages of scribbles never quite concise a pedant in her former life as the clock strikes a will-o-wisp of a peacock the same searching eyes but the plumage has faded he is knocking, you must answer accept, walk, leave then float away.


In Fields of Grass I Seasons riot like students; cities ever-changing from winter to spring – to reasons, to reasons the interval hush sound, a calm to the constant war, while a single child screams “What are we fighting for?” Franticly grasping for an answer and where none prevail the child repeats, “We have failed, we have failed”.

II In fields where the grass has been forgotten and left to grow thick – a forest! a labyrinth! an abyss! that is where questions go to die (and to my latest surprise) that is where the answers lie. Yet you and I – so easily curious in a feline trance climb the gate of this field and begin to dance one two step three four twirl a ballroom burning circles in nature’s finest gold an accompaniment of magpies although the secret has already been told. There is no facade in our adventurous waltz; blades of maps fold around every turn


if they find us (as I have no doubt for the criminals that dared to dream in the place where reality hides) they will find us lying down were the music stopped and the dance was done.

III Three doors appeared on the approach, one was clear with crystal glass no fingerprints or smears to hinder the path from which I could see a field of grass. The other two, far more obscure in ruin what this doors hid, no illusionist could guess but sunbeams shone through every crack and burnt a mark across my chest.

IV My love is like a million excuses, a million reasons why I cannot explain what I feel, what I think with fluidity and with validity I will tell you this You are perfect! You are so serene! and I, I will wait for you (whatever that means) but you are not the only one who will finish this poem when I am done.


Aptitude Your girl is lovely These cardboard walls are lovely carved with the finest graffiti I wish I could compare to Picasso or Monet, but this is more something completely extraordinary that has captured me. So naturally and exquisitely your jigsaw fits unlike the half-torn pieces I have come to be accustomed to lately, indefinitely – there will be bells that ring a serenade when your ship comes in the beaming lights won’t fade from the lighthouse that was abandoned years and years ago but life begins again conventionally. Aptitude, spread the word; you are the rising of the moon the falling of leaves on a blustery day the glowing of streetlamps unlit and the something we haven’t found quite yet. The pleasure is all mine when you don’t dress up for the occasion as formal as it sounds


you will bewitch the room and all I can say is, “Yes, he is my friend and nothing more” That’s the way these things go, and we never seem to disagree.


Con Dolore I have lingered on your eyes for far too long playing the same three chords with fright as the sun, reflected in your gaze so bright has long since set in the background. And by choice I have let the night in grasping tightly to the eastern wind - with sadness for I know what the sunrise will bring.


After the Ending Tarnished silver lines clouds which echo and roar across the roads that lead into the great perhaps lingering after the ending; Perhaps the sun never shines but it glows and the grass is greener underneath our toes. Another time or place could serve the purpose better of a never-ending epilogue hidden deep within words as weapons, or more, and more.


Tomorrow x3 Stop time with me, and we can cling to this day because tomorrow is just too hard to face knowing that the leaves are on the verge of crumbling and the frost will soon be settling we could leave this place – Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow I shall have my tea without sugar and make a second cup while I shake (because knowing that you might be there is a risk I am willing to take). We could talk of all that has passed; all the dreams we shared that were meant to last but yesterday, I swear, yesterday seems like a story that could be true but nothing ever stays the same. But now, the tea has grown cold and I am tired of today, and waiting, for tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.


Sunday Best Instead of butterflies he gave me moths, flickering around the embers of all I had lost but they were beautiful – “In your head,” he said, as he put his best shirt on “In your world, everything glitters but mine is cold, and it lingers.” And so on, so it goes – Now your tie is done, how wonderful you look! Shall we take a stroll around the garden in your Sunday Best before you leave? You don’t believe me when I say you shall dazzle the eyes of every girl you meet like the diamonds you placed in mine and they are in every word that comes to mind.


Fin


Something Extraordinary