Author: tom-collingwood

Once a bird, I soared,
Circles of my thoughts entwined,
Rustling, waiting for her birth.
A paradox, she lives and loves,
My love, the world’s reflection.

All hold the divine,
In each soul, a spark of God.
Before the Ward, life was clear,
Now, poems, songs, and memories remain,
Echoes of a time now passed.

Empty of myself,
Life’s a play, high highs and lows,
A drama unfolds.
Who am I? Who are you to say?
Souls nameless, yet they persist.

A scientist’s proof,
Through poetry and motion,
Hypnosis, a tool that scares.
Schizo-affective or bipolar,
Choose your comfort when near me.

Emptiness replaced,
Filled with another’s essence,
Two by two, and more.
Ad infinitum, the souls align,
A plateau of peace emerges.

Safe space to observe,
Rules bending, a game at play,
I witness nature.
I observe, thus I exist,
Collapsing worlds, reality shifts.

Monday, the Doctor calls,
Sanity, a truth to prove,
Balancing the world.
One green earth, politics aside,
Seeking true selves, both yours and mine.

Fun in the unknown,
Less known, better the journey,
A path to explore.
No need to hide, time abounds,
Effortless, this poem types.

Should stars gleam so bright, I’d grasp each one,
Yet my hands would scar.
A heart that aches, in this shifting world,
time swiftly flies.

Purgatory’s chime, a strange sound,
Like a dinner bell.
Echoing down life’s cavity, it decays,
Out, dinner goes to rot.

To dwell in spaces, vast yet confined,
My quantum heart collapses.
Awaiting death’s touch, in tender embrace,
Lost rooms, I find home.

Love is in your laughter
Love is in the oxygen you breath
Love is on your lips

Let me laugh
Let me gasp
Let me taste your love

Make you laugh
Give you life
Kiss you soft and sweet

Play and dance
Sing and shout
Kissing all night long

Playful
Kind
& sweet I bite

White noise, curiously amusing,
In chaos, we find laughter steeping,
Giggles rise from randomness,
Yet, meaning stirs within the mess.

As sense emerges from the haze,
The laughter caught in a daze,
No longer random, the noise speaks,
A truth concealed in static’s peaks.

“What brings laughter to your ears?”
A poem born from the chaos, it appears,
Were it not for sanity’s embrace,
Tears might replace the smile on your face.

Can you hear the noise persist,
In the background, as if to insist,
A tale from the cacophony’s heart,
Begging to be heard, a true work of art.

No longer a door away

we have our little worries

about the other day

we say our little sorries

it only shows we care

& we will be there

for the bigger worrys

and the bigger sorrys

Midnight can be
my golden hour.
It is late
But mind must write.
Pour, leek, radiate.
No guilt
or worry.
There’s a quiet
lorries whisper
motorbikes blare
but nothing to do
but sleep

or write.