Welcome my blog. The intention is to publish every piece of writing that I have churned out for the past 10 years. Some pieces have a story behind the story, some lyrical poems have become songs. We have hundreds of poems, stories, songs, lyrics, and life musings. Subscribe and every Monday receive a story to start off your week. Art is created by Amina & AI.
The gods whisper to us.
While we sleep they take
us to hidden gardens
and down endless corridors.
Awake, the whispers cause
the trees to dance with their shadows.
There was a time I believed
the gods whispered to me.
They are silent now.
They stopped whispering to me when you left.
Now I know the gods never whispered to me
Now I know it was you all along
and so my days are desolate now
So desolate, I am hardly worth mentioning.
You couldn’t hide the African sky
From beneath where he stood
The necklace of stars burning through
Cast down in stone and bone
A necklace of beads and pretty things
He bought at a public fair
Far from its birth
Far from its maker
putting a smile on the day
You couldn’t hide the African sky
You couldn’t have known
Years would pass
a thousand miles
time acts like a friend
A necklace scrawled in a drawer
Forgotten for a time
No excuse he will only offer this
He didn’t know you at the time
He didn’t know you yet .
He’ll take the beads over diamonds
Why have stones when you can have stars
The ones that shine in your eyes
Derek Earl Houghton
He often felt he was born in the wrong era.
He would have preferred to say
“ I have no truck with you mister”
than “ I am unfriending you on face book”.
He wished at times he was one of those rugged
steel eyed quiet men sitting around
a card table in a saloon at the
turn of the last century in black tailored suit
stiff white collar and boa steer horn tie
with a buxom barmaid on his arm
and a six shooter strapped to his hip.
It is a dark fearful time when the handlebar
moustache gives way to the man bun.
There should be no-one to defend us from
the marauding Huns.
Derek Earl Houghton