Missing child

My inner child is missing

please help me search for him

He’s vanished from the neighbourhood

and he’s nowhere to be seen

I called out a search party

but they’re clueless just like me

I’m worried that he’s found his way

into unsavoury company

I’m desperate now to find him

my crazy inner child

He’s the only aspect of my life

that keeps me running wild

I miss my inner child so much

now he’s missing from the scene

Without him life is shades of grey

at the last count, seventeen

I miss his foolish pranking

and those silly made up songs

I’m desperate now to find him to

bring him back where he belongs

but it seems I’m not the only one

‘cos a list is being compiled

of the many other frantic folks

who have lost their inner child

Steve Wheeler © 29 April, 2021

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Call me when you're next in town

Call me when you’re next in town

I wasn’t available at all today

Text me or give me a phone call

I’ll try to keep my diary free

Call me when you’re next my way

Knock on the door, shout up the stair

I’ll see what time I’ve got to spare

what time there is to meet

Call me when you’re passing by

and I’ll try to make some time

I’m sorry I missed you a second time

I lead such a busy life these days

and you know that time is money

Let me know when you’re about

and around my neighbourhood

It’s been a long time since we talked

Send me a direct message or some other

social media communication

to let me know you’re passing through

I missed you yet again, and your text too

My smartphone was out of juice

or not switched on, I forget which one

I will try to respond to your message

It’s been a long time since we last said hello

Call me when you’re next in town

Just call me and I'll see what I can do

Steve Wheeler © 28 April, 2021

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Let me gently go

The burning embers that used to ignite

our hearts and souls are fading from sight

what’s done in the dark defies the light

as we plunge headlong into eternal night

A chasm is growing between you and me

but still we press on, regardlessly

My deepest fear is that you’ll one day face me

and your eyes will have lost their empathy

Once I could lose myself in those eyes

but now I’m a captive of my own disguise

So drown my fear, and let me gently go

Let me drift away before the dawn’s first glow

So let me gently go

Please let me gently go

You know I love you so

So gently, let me go

Steve Wheeler © 27 April, 2021

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Your mind is not all

Your mind is not all

it often may fail

damaged by the ravage

of a life grown stale.

Your mind may be fragile

vulnerable to harm

beyond the reach of

any man made balm.

Your mind is not all,

there’s a deeper sense

of humanity

and of conscience.

Your spirit, the essence

of experience

as you traverse this 

vast cosmic expanse.

Your soul, the sense

of emotional insight

the keeper of dreams

throughout your night.

Your mind is not all

of which you consist.

You are deeper, 

much more

eternal than this.

Steve Wheeler © 27 April, 2021

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Elegy

While we are busy living life

it passes us by

like speeding traffic

on dampened streets

We hear the tyres

but miss the blur

the only evidence

the red tail lights

While we are focused on loving

it very slowly dies/ like a summer rose

Its lustrous petals

slowly fade 

until they finally lie

as silky residue 

upon the ground

Steve Wheeler © 26 April, 2021

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Reflected (in your eyes)

Reflected in your eyes I see 

four hundred years of misery 

the memories of iron chains 

lives spent in captivity 

Reflected in your eyes I see 

the pain and the fear 

of endless famine and brutality 

Reflected in your eyes I see 

the injustice and prejudice 

of those so blind they will not see 

Reflected in your eyes I see 

the memories of your family 

torn open, never more to be free 

Reflected in your eyes I see 

a yearning for freedom 

and the noble fight for equity 

Reflected in your eyes 

I see a hope for future liberty 

for a world set free from misery 

released from inhumanity 

a world set free 

Steve Wheeler © 23 April, 2021

image © Steve Wheeler

Calling time

Ultimately will come a time

when time is called on Time

There will be no more time

for one more time

and no time will remain

for time and time again

because again will not be seen again

when Time has met its end. 

Time won’t drag and Time will fly no more, 

at the closing of the temporal door

There will be no time to waste or kill

as Time just will exist no more.

There will be no more give it time

for Time will have no time to live.

No more time heals many wounds 

when Time has no time left to give. 

No more once upon a time, when

Time has run out of onces to be upon.

Time is finite, and its days are numbered, 

Time cannot be stretched beyond

its allotted time when there’s no time 

for Time to waste or burn.

When time is up for Time, it will be 

counted out, no extra time left to return 

Time may be an arrow, but one day 

its momentum will be fully spent

No more living on borrowed time, 

when Time is no longer able to be lent 

When Time folds in upon itself

and silently blinks into the void

What’s left will be no distant hum

no echo of the spheres destroyed 

The nothingness, forevermore

the vacuum pervading space 

will not behold its former state

a fleck on the Creator’s face 

Seconds out, the minutes fly,

the hour has come. 

Time’s up. 

Goodbye.

Steve Wheeler © 22 April, 2021

photo © Steve Wheeler

NB: There is a video of me reading this poem on YouTube. You can watch it here:

Fallen

'Fallen' is something of an experimental poem, for me, partly because I'm using a rhythm and metre that is a little unfamiliar, and partly because I'm lacing sentences and phrases together that are different to the way I would normally write a poem. I have experimented with imagery, and I hope it works. The poem also more serious than much of my previous work performed on YouTube - it's about a broken relationship, and all the regrets that follow. In that sense, it's fictional, but I hope I have captured the emotional turmoil it would evoke. Do let me know what you think in the comments box below, but either way, I hope you enjoy it. 

Tension Town

In Tension Town the atmosphere 

is tense and overlaid with fear 

There’s little doubt the angst we feel 

is justified and very real 

Our city trembles in alarm 

at those who seek to cause us harm 

The darkness in our minds has grown 

as seeds of anxiety are sown 

In Tension Town the heart rate grows 

as through the veins foreboding flows 

The white on black is blue on blue 

when violence is the only hue 

In Tension Town the eyes dilate 

when all they ever view is hate 

and all around is fretfulness 

our lives suffused with nervousness

In Tension Town all it would take 

is one mishap, one small mistake 

to bring this entire building down 

and burn our future to the ground

Our lives hang on one slender thread 

in Tension Town, and it is said 

that just one single hateful act 

will cause that 

hanging 

thread

to 

snap 

Steve Wheeler © 21 April, 2021

image source

Number One

I've been busy recently writing, recording and editing a new series of poems with the aim of publishing a new collection later this year. Some are such fun to read, and I'm taking advantage of the bright, sunny weather here in the South West of England, to go outside into my dad's garden to record some of them. I have recently posted several up to YouTube, so please go take a look, and if you enjoy them, please like and leave a comment. It would be most appreciated. Either way, I would love to hear what you think. Below are the links to two new poems, Rain Stopped Play and Number One.

Silver Screens

I published my third volume of poetry, Urban Voices, back in December 2020, and this poem - about all of the lost/closed cinemas in my home town of Plymouth, stood out as one I would like to read live. I used to go regularly to the 'picture palaces' to watch new films when I was younger. I think I took a different girlfriend to see each of the Star Wars films, but that's material for another poem, another day. Now all the old cinemas (we used to call them 'fleapits') are gone, replaced by restaurants, snooker and bingo halls and builders warehouses. All that is available is two multiplex cinemas to serve a population of more than 300,000 people. 

Yesterday, sat in my Dad's garden, surrounded by greenery and buffeted by the chilly April winds, I recorded the poem - Silver Screens - and posted it to YouTube. Below is the link. It has captions. You can turn down the sound if you don't wish to listen to my voice, and read the poem instead. It's probably better for all concerned. 

Pop Vulture

I'm a pinball wizard in a yellow submarine 

I'm a honky cat in an electric dream 

I'm a wild thing playing on a tambourine 

Man, I was the lover of the Russian Queen 

I was raised in the House of the Rising Sun 

I don't like Mondays and I have a warm gun 

with hot legs like these I was born to run 

I'm leaving on a jet plane it's a quarter after one 

I'm hungry like a wolf, and I cry like a dove 

God only knows, under the moon above 

Put my helmet on and it fits like a glove 

Saturday's for fighting but it's Friday I'm in love 

I never kept my face in a jar by the door 

I shot the Sheriff, and I fought the law 

I won't be a hero when two tribes go to war 

through the barricades, I can't take it any more

Can't get no satisfaction from the Memphis blues 

I cried me a river on my blue suede shoes 

I'm a champagne supernova, I'm yesterday's news 

I'm an afternoon delight on the Heartache Avenue

I was born in a crossfire hurricane

I'd do anything for love but you're just so vain

I'm a Johnny come lately, you're my Lady Jane

You leave me hanging on the telephone 

again and again

I'm the Wichita lineman, you could make me a star 

or a fool on the hill with my weeping guitar 

You could be my baby, you could drive my car 

but you're working as a waitress in a cocktail bar

Steve Wheeler © 12 April, 2021

Image source

Off the rails

Inside St Pancras station 

heard an angry conversation 

a loud platform peroration 

With thoughts above their station 

they created quite a scene 

shouted things that were obscene 

pulled no punches, they were mean 

like a busted vending machine 

Now Eurostar ain’t cheap 

it would make a grown man weep 

RailTrack bosses play for keeps 

don’t know how they bloody sleep 

Due to the consternation 

of that senseless deviation, 

their Paris destination 

was lost, like French in translation 

While they argued heads or tails 

they jumped the points, came off the rails 

Now he’s in the Yorkshire dales 

while she holidays in Wales

Steve Wheeler © 10 April, 2021

image source

Paper lined warriors

Come, paper lined warriors! 

You activists of ink! 

Purveyors of rhyme, 

you must cause us to think

Poetically licensed 

to kill with a phrase 

your verses are bullets 

and your knives are the plays

Your lines and your stanzas

must challenge and spur 

Your lyrical warnings 

should never demur

So rise up you poets, 

you metrists and bards! 

Your time has now come, 

and there’s change on the cards 

Steve Wheeler © 5 April, 2021

image source

Paid on the nail

You can try to silence me but I’m still gonna praise Him / you can try to shut me down but I’m still gonna raise Him / you can put me in the corner, you won’t stop me saying His name / you can side-line me, but you can’t take me out of the game / you can take away my freedom, but I get to keep my faith / you can throw away the key, I’m a still gonna walk free / ‘cos He ain’t gonna let nobody lay their hands on me / you can keep me in the darkness, I’m a still see His light / I can see Him in His glory though you take away my sight / ain’t nowhere you can put me I can’t see Him on His throne / ain’t nowhere you can isolate me ‘cos I’ll never be alone / You can beat me try to break me I ain’t never giving in / you can leave me and forsake me but He took away my sin / whatever I’m in, He’ll see me through He’ll never let me down / He will even raise me up when I’m a six feet underground / in sickness or in health in riches or in despair / He’s the only one my mind’s fixed on ‘cos He’s the only one who cares / You can hate me you can doubt me but you’ll never grind me down / you can call me names, drop me the blame, I ain’t never turning round / try anything you like to ridicule who you think I am / but the truth is you can’t separate me from the Great I Am / There ain’t a thing in this world that can deviate my path / see, one plus one is four, but you can never do the math / He is the three in one, and I’m the Apple of His eye / He’s the Ancient of Days, and He will never ever die / I am bought with a price, I am paid for on the nail / and I’m standing on His promises, ‘cos they will never, ever fail.

Steve Wheeler © 3 April, 2021

image source

The world, reset

The world hung in a blue screen

suspended functionality 

Keyboard dead, flashing red 

no hope, no possibility

A planet silent running

its connection not detected

The world a broken terminal

its program mass infected

Then came a vital reset 

The manufacturer appeared

The world was placed in quarantine

its hardware re-engineered

He died and He was buried

and the planet was shut down

But he rose up from the grave

and Earth rebooted back again

'cos he dealt with every virus

that had invaded our system

He deleted the infection

that was holding us to ransom

He emptied out this planet

of the things beyond our control

and offered us a vaccine

to the virus in our souls

There's now a simpler algorithm

to improve our spiritual health:

Love God with all your strength and soul

and your brother as yourself

Steve Wheeler © 3 April, 2021

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