Quiet nights fill this old house

Nothing stirs,

Except for fleeting thoughts

The day’s sun,

Put quite a burn on me,

And now I’m left with,

That familiar pinch

The one the sun leaves with you,

To let you know,

That while the sun loves you,

The sun can hurt you, too

But within the quiet of this house,

And the pain of the sting,

And the tired eyes,

Is a feeling of comfort

A feeling which says,

It was a pretty good day

Salty waves,

Blistering sunshine,

Nighttime breezes,

And far off thoughts

Thoughts of you,

And how I plan,

To do all of this,

All over again, tomorrow

© D J Loweman 2015



Beach Bum

Milt Jackson taps along the xylophone

And I need to rest

I’m so worn out

The sounds of the music

Fade in and out

Heavy is the night

And all soft drumming has put me

In a catatonic state

Such is the life of a beach bum

Too much sun

And now, tired eyelids hold the weight

Of a thousand men

But now is not the time to over-think

Not everyone loves the beach life

And those who don’t

At this hour

Don’t matter much to me

Today seemed pretty close to perfect

Maybe, maybe not

Maybe I’m wrong

Maybe it wasn’t

Either way

I think I’ll have another go at it

Again, tomorrow

After all,

Practice makes perfect

At least that’s what I’ve been told

© Dicky J Loweman 2015


No Sunshine

There isn’t anything left for us

We accomplished all we set out to do

We turned on the days

Just to have the nights

But what did that get us?

Soon we were sick

Sick of the darkness and the never-ending plights

Fires we burned always turned to ash

So boredom takes its place

And with a little bit of willingness

She will roll us into the grave

The final resting place

Where the dirt is piled so high

And we will be the reasons for the flowers above us

But, then again, we asked for this

Prayed for this

Begged for it

Until our mouths rotted and what was left of our souls

Dried up and drifted in the chilly nighttime winds

This is what we wanted

We planned it out, we played it over

Over and over again, nightly

Never skipping a step

Never missing a beat

No sunshine

Just ash

And cold

And darkness

No sunshine

Just the night

© Dicky J Loweman 2015