Poetry

Abandoned

What delights do we leave behind?

Christopher McLeod
2 min readOct 14, 2021

Lost in the wilderness of despair
Alone in this prison of mind
Apostate
Hypothetically removed from the physical,
Connected and cleaved to the digital
Annulled
Disconnected from the aristocratic estates of yore.

Taped sessions
The fuzziness of aged recordings
Hisses eclipse voices
Assumptive practices
Metallic shards invade the stream
Disused circuity rusts
The machinery to play tapes obsolete.

Sepia-stained memories
Evoke joy on a cloudy day
Where the gentle waves cleanse the shore
Rapid gusts of wind lift the moods of despair and solitude
Seagulls mark their territory
Squawks communicate ideas.

Gentle conversations built on sand
Still the waves cleanse the shore
Again the silence of despair punctuates my mind
A lone spruce tree populates the hill
Cliff-faces shorn from smooth to jagged.

Cottages worn and tired
Wallpaper sustained
Peeling from the walls
Kitchens stand silent
Fires burn
Echoes in empty rooms
Shades of pastel plates dot the floor
The old dwelling laid to rest.

Still the faded tapes play
Music distorted
Rubbery,
Complex
The whirring of drive mechanisms
The click of buttons
Tick, tack
Warped tapes displace the lines of sound.

Silence of doubts commit conspiracy
Where the spruce stands tall
Guarded cottages tell their secrets
Desolation,
Inflation moves empty shelves
The wooded groves obscure the roads from sight.

The waves wash the grime away
Tribal
Satisfactory
Gradually reclaiming lost shores
Caressing winds,
Gently moving leaves and grass
Lavender scented breezes
Childhood dreams and delights remembered.

Shades of grey and murky green
Gathering despair isolates youthful desires
Lost and abandoned
Forgotten dreams cast aside
Regrets and mourning for a future yet to come
A future lost in the waves.

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Christopher McLeod

Writer and Composer. Artistic Director of A Flat Major Music Consultancy. Crafted lovingly. Transmitting to the world.