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Saturday 29 June 2019

My Preston Days


Stationery Box and Joe Bloggs Jeans
The Potato Man selling parched peas
Avenham Park one of my old haunts
Living life too fast... to wear a coat 

Bus Station and it's vending machines
Felt all grown up yet barely a teen 
Action Records my favourite place
Brucciani’s coke-float... milkshake taste 

Preston... how I fondly remember 
Hold dear my memories forever 
Those teenage years I spent within you
At Lord Bryons, the Harris... Cafe Zoo

Incense sticks, hippy floaty clothes
Orbit, my dress shop... treasure trove 
Heineken Music Festival 
Oasis, Verve...incredible!!

90's nightlife, rhythm... cobbled streets
The Cenotaph where we'd all meet 
Doc Martens from the Army store
The Art Lab raves... now mere folklore 

So long ago and yet so bright 
In dreams still comes to me at night 
Of the way things were... used to be
Of all the things that made me... me 

If these are places I shared with you
Know you're etched in time... in rainbow hues
For Halcyon days they were to me
Forever young... we'll roam wild and free

© Debbie Razey 2019

Thursday 27 June 2019

Pondering...

Pondering...

I ponder where to start... after all where does silence end and our words begin? 
Is it upon an unread page... or shrill, in ear, from a reverberant voice?
Is breath then the locomotive of a word's true actualisation?
Only to be heard when uttered... yet do we not  hear with our hearts and minds? 

Some poets write to hear the syllables chime and others to spin silken tales
Some scribe so we heed their call, for others it's cathartic... their release of woe
Stark black type, marching mutely in lines of conformity across the page 
A river of ink, meandering... breaking into words of cresting waves

Pens painting dreamlands... flooding the parched plains of our ashen imagination
A meticulous mirage... but will it quench, or fail, the readers rampant thirst?
Perhaps, though, it's inbetween the words... in the pauses and noiseless spaces
Where in its diaphanous, cloaked gift of marked stillness... true wisdom unfurls

© Debbie Razey 2019


Thursday 13 June 2019

Holy Isle - Arran - World Peace Centre

Holy Isle - Arran - World Peace Centre

Beneath Arran’s peaks, betwixt olive hills 
Nestles Lamlash vale with sea blanket drawn
Upon golden shore lays her ashen head 
Basks in sun serene where the clouds are torn

From near Holy Isle where the seagulls sing 
Distant trawler groans ‘pon jewelled cobalt sea  
Whilst the Soay they lark and the waves roll in
The peace comforts me with its rowdy din 

So it comes to be that I question peace
What it means to me ‘midst this holy place 
For you see I’ve learned... it’s not heard but felt 
So I take with me and no more I’ll waste 

As the boat nears shore with my soul renewed
I’ll think on this day, watery greens and blues
As the paint of peace brushes clear my thoughts 
My heart swells with love and my soul imbrues

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry 




The Isle of Gigha

The Isle of Gigha

Where sky and sea and Paps they greet 
With turquoise blue and emerald feet
Bright birdsong-breeze forbids all woes 
Waves play betwixt her sandy coves

Gods Island named and aptly so
When Norseman anchored long ago
Their tales still echo marked in stone
Amongst the farmland cairns outgrown

An island story so unique
A phoenix rising from the bleak 
Community united strong
Triumphantly we heed their song 

A place whence been will call you home 
To soon return... your soul is sworn 
For once you’ve seen you’ll ne’er forget 
Lost in her wiles... your dreams will set

© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry