Missing The Moment


I can but live in this buried tomb
Of tomorrow
Drawing circles in the sand

Unaware of the moment
….Unaware of the incoming tide
……..Unaware of life around
…………Until it hits
…………….Washes away my work
………………..Streams away my life
…………….Draws its own circles
…………As it sees them
……..Leaving me outside
….High and dry
Dying with the death of the moment
Waiting for the next breath
Buried in the tomb of tomorrow


© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane
As per this blog’s copyright statement

Colours of You – NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 20 (to prompt)

If some roses are red and some violets blue,
How do I know the colour of you?
I know you like savoury, I know you love food,
I think you like chocolate, though that’s maybe not good.

I know you prefer to do things yourself,
And you say you have loads of things back on your ‘shelf’.
You really don’t care what people may think,
And your least favourite place is – the kitchen sink

You live to the rhythm of your own special dance,
You’ll listen to some and give them a chance,
But others you meet, types you’ve seen before,
You simply shrug off and show them the door.

You live with a purpose, to teach and to show,
But only to those who will listen, you know,
Each moment awake, you live to the full,
Yes, even in darkness, you don’t find it dull.

So, what colour you are, I could never define,
You’re all ever-changing, not one to confine,
A challenge to live with, a pleasure too rare,
Wait, I do know your colour, you’re a treasure to share.


The prompt today is ” to write a poem that states the things you know.”
Although my history has taught me that we never really know another person,
there are some things we think we know in the now…! Enjoy!


© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane
As per this blog’s statement
Thank you

Floods of Life

Men flew through shadows deep,
Raucous birds a-calling,
Rivers ran through fields asleep
Drowning in their falling.

Houses lost, homes all gone,
Buildings washed away,
Will we be able to survive
The rains that fell that day?

People tell of worse,
When lands were all a-flood,
So many moons ago,
Yet no-one mentions blood.

Blood of ages, blood of sin,
Blood that’s carried through,
From year to year, man to man,
Red, dark red and blue.

So light the torches, bring the flame,
Rekindle fires and lamp.
Bring on the heat, bring on the light,
And banish all the damp.

And those of us now sitting dry,
Look down upon the mess,
But for the Grace of God say you,
The death, the pain, the stress.

Begin again, take the new,
See this as favour done,
For out of ashless comfort zones,
Arises new life won.

Large of eyes, pale of face,
Looking all around,
Bewildered by this chance of fate,
Standing on new ground.

Events of life, controlled or not,
Change us deep within,
And carry portents for the rest,
“Let go of all your whims!”

Life is transient, belongings more,
As stewardship is given,
Ownership is obsolete,
As soul’s experience now driven.

This time, this place, this precious now,
To which we all belong,
Will have it’s way, give us life,
And take us all along.

© Copyright Rob McShane – March 2014

In The Bookshop

Here I sit, in the world of books,
Surrounded by the torrents of ideas,
Warbling as words in a sea of colour, styles, fonts and headers,
Dizzying in their intensity,
Vying for attention and smothering the voice inside,
My voice,
My need to give of myself into a world dominated with self,
Idealised beyond the mere expression of self,
Glamourised into an industry where contribution from self
Is valued according to the perception of other people’s wish to buy it.

Come, join me.
Sit beside me.
Feel with me as the person I have made
Slides from my being and leaves my soul bare.

Bare to feel,
To give,
To learn,
To respond,
Direct from itself,
To itself.
Direct from me to you.
Soul to soul.
Being to being.
God to God.
All as I write these words,
These stylized marks that represent my ideas,
That express my feelings,
That convey my perception as I see it and, hopefully, passes on the same.

But you will see it as you see it.
Maybe it is different,
Maybe similar.
But never the same.
As should be…for life moves
And we are all different.

You stand,
I stand,
We move on…
To the next sharing…
To the next scene
In the never ending play that we live…

© Copyright Rob McShane – February 2014

In Being

Ask me not who or how
Do not demand of me things I cannot offer
Accept me as I am

Expect nothing of me for the future
The future has itself to take care of
Accept me in the now

Take nothing from my past
No judgement of lives lived
Know me as I am

If all we have is this moment
Please do not fill it with the future or the past
Now is all I have, this is all I am