chris orton Poems

From Son

Can I offer you my view of our past.
A world, walking the taught wire of your aggression.
...

The journey home was, as ever, reduced to a crawl.
A golden evening sky to the north beckoned me home.
A glance in my mirror showed a black slab of sky left behind
Framed in the black was the little green car that contained the crying girl.
...

This dawn brought me a day like no other before this
The gentlest of caresses by the sun fought off the pre-dawn gloom
Breathing it soul into all corners of the room
A burnished copper glow surrounded us with its gentle warm kiss
...

It is not for here, the talk of grey that can infect your soul in this great city.

Only where a piece of magic, fun and love from the boy who wouldn't grow up touch the real world.
...

The accusatory blank page stalks me.
Manifest in the form of a pristine notebook.
I long to speak, I long too create.
From my pocket, its nakedness mocks.
...