Hugh Blackwood Cron

Ayr, Scotland

I was born in Ayrshire in 1967. I am married to Gwen and, at the moment, I'm self employed. I've been writing since my early teens. Poetry is something that, to be honest, not many people would associate me with. As I get older and more cynical, I believe that individuality and conscious thought is all we can hope for. My poetry is for anyone to take out of it what they wish. Readers meaning, is to me, more interesting than my reasoning. The arrogance of preaching the meaning of any type of literature is somewhat point missing.

Self Revelation

So smug with perception,
And lacking in anything,
Disappointed with myself,
I don't dance anymore.

Reason and compassion,
Had it all hidden meaning?
A wolf with treachery,
I don't trust anymore.

The blood that is in me,
Is it tainted to blame?
A scapegoat or fraud?
I don't love anymore.

Disgusted and disappointed,
Only to look within,
It hurts as I must,
Be unforgiving once more.

Loneliness

The silence of loneliness,
Can make the sweet so bitter,
It can darken good reason,
Until reason is no more,
Their routine being so unfulfilled,
Makes the lonely so insecure.

Dreaming

Where do we go when we dream?
One day to our hopeful reality?
Having arrived at our unconscious haven,
Where will we go when we dream?

After Dark

In the still of the night
We can hear the silence
Of a thousand lost souls,
They wander in perpetual darkness,
With grieving, aching, rebelling hearts.
Their mystery being our nightmares,
Our fear from their shadows,
To the spirits of the dead,
The still of the night
Becomes the awakening dawn.