Let us play at fiction, you and I

Let us play at fiction, you and I.

I saw you in our nursery class, and traded

Shiny stones to sit right next to you.

There’s thirteen years between that day and now,

And yet, some things have stayed the same.

Your nose is just as small, you’re just as tall;

Although perhaps not, as you’re fully grown.

Your eyes are almost just the same,

They’re just the same,

They’re just as wide, but now they’re closed

To me.

Where did you go?

I felt I lost you in my pocket, like you opened up

A hole and clambered out, to go be free.

Where did you go?

I couldn’t keep you in my head, you had to

Break away and live beyond me in the open sea.

Where did you go?

I wouldn’t stop myself from loving you, but then

What could I be except a shadow of a greater thing?

Where did you go?

You lie here on an open slab, and yet

My hands are buried in my dreams.

If I could count those shiny stones again,

I’d find just seven traded colours and sheens.

If I could count the times your eyes were open

Wandering around the world, I’d end my days.

There’s thirteen years between that day and now,

Unbroken pleasure until now,

And yet some things have stayed the same,

You’re just the same,

You’re just the same,

Except for now your eyes are closed

To me.

Source - https://scontent-a-nrt.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/t1.0-9/10411345_516192415153620_2789620515508780295_n.jpg

The painting is called 'Touch'

Painted by u/picpocgallery - http://www.reddit.com/user/picpocgallery

Beneath the dead man's party

Beneath the dead man's party.

The windows warm our souls, and from them floats

And flutters laughter, resting on our ears

Like butterflies; so faint, it brushes tears

Across our cheeks, and life under our coats.

And yet, the warmth is rapid: soaking through

The tarmac, slaking off the coats of men

And women passing in the street again,

But they will never catch the raucous views

Within the hotel rooms above their lives.

The orange light spills out, to welcome all

The night into the joke; and yet, it speaks

In such a language that our minds

Don’t understand; the dead will call through walls

And yet we miss the light they chose to speak.

Source - http://noahslark.com/post/86869066451/beneath-the-dead-mans-party-the-windows-warm-our

The painting is called 'Ghost Hotel'

Painted by u/greyexpectations - http://www.reddit.com/user/greyexpectations

A Note - The artist included my poem on their blog! VERY EXCITE!

Blue and Yellow

Blue and Yellow.

I dreamt of two bright cities, side by side,

Over, under and in-between; they looked

Into each other with blue and yellow eyes,

Whilst at my feet the midnight water

Trembled in the darkness.

I would often walk between these ridged shapes,

one foot placed blindly past the other,

and bricks would be and glass would be,

and with these eyes of mine I did not

look around me at this double-city scape.

I left the city in a boat, and crossed the water

Shivering. I looked back only once. Upon

The rippled surface of the waves, the city

Shone in bright and shadow, and in the windows

I saw reflected my own eyes –

One of blue, and one of yellow.

Source - http://imgur.com/rilkMJV

This poem is untitled.

Painted by u/drawn0nward - http://www.reddit.com/user/drawn0nward

Subside

Subside.

Let us take your face between our hands,

And twirl you in our fingers, ravel you

In knuckles, nails and skin. There are just two

Of you; just two to see this three-piece band,

And yet, you’re sightless eyes stare into one

Another, mouths left open by design,

Whilst from the trees and grass, and up your spine,

We brush you, scared that soon you will be gone

From us, and back to empty nature’s glade we’ll slide,

Our fingerprints reburying themselves

In soil, to wriggle; worms with worms and stones

And roots to wrap ourselves within. Subside.

We’ll pull our arms back through the earth ourselves,

And hold them to our chests; as close as bones.

source - http://37.media.tumblr.com/32170b59f34a0d791a964384e5204d36/tumblr_n5lfmfalxt1qb6jnro1_1280.jpg

This artwork is untitled.

I think this one's an original piece, done in photoshop by u/rhinosarus - http://www.reddit.com/user/rhinosarus

The Streets

The Streets

The streets are quiet today; I’ve

Been walking them for hours, and

I haven’t seen a single soul. In

Fact, I think I may well be the

Only living thing in London today.

As the sun passes directly over my

Head, glinting off the carapaces of

Cars, the shells of homes and doors,

The world begins to wake up around

Me. People roll around, mooching.

There is nothing quite so wonderful

As not knowing where you’re going.

In a shocking turn of events, I

Am approached by a man named

Derby. It says so on his parole card.

His breath smells of alcohol, and I

Listen patiently as he explains his

Predicament, and if I could spare some

Money that would be smashing. I

Did not, and he walked away, believing

I did.