Instant Film

Written by James Record in 2016.

Life moves on like a roll of film,
Each day a snapshot of the day before;
The next frame changes only slightly,
A whole year goes by twenty four days at a time.

The actors in my story make the same mistakes,
Over and over again,
As though the same scenes were being played out,
Time and time again.

This film is very sensitive to light,
Better kept in a darkened room.
Dust damages the thin surfaces,
And weakens the projector’s vision.

Film takes time to develop properly,
But everyone wants to see the action now.
If the proper preparations are not taken,
The whole movie will be lost forever.

Sometimes it feels life is being played in slow motion,
Or in a single photo, hung to dry,
Waiting for a technician,
To tell us when we are ready for the world to see.

The movie comes to an end,
Far too quickly these days.
If we do not appreciate each frame as it passes,
The sooner we will become an empty reel.

Creative Commons Licence
Instant Film James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

The Island

Written by James Record in 2016.

A secluded island to myself,
In the middle of nowhere,
Millions of miles from civilisation;
I’m in a world of my own.

The sun sears my weak skin,
Yet I try to enjoy the fine weather,
Before the daily storm returns,
To flood my sanctuary.

Every day that comes,
Is the same as the previous.
I’ve been stuck on this island for three years,
But it feels more like three hundred.

I cannot leave this island,
Trust me I have tried.
The current is too strong to overcome;
Relentless rains put out my signal fire.

The sea salt blurs my vision;
I cannot trust what I see.
I fear the sound of hidden monsters,
Which are as imaginary as this rock.

After many years the tides change;
I wasn’t so far from the people I left.
Even if nobody noticed I was gone,
The world to me has moved on.

Creative Commons Licence
The Island James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

The Shadow

Written by James Record in 2016.

A shadow’s creator is unknown;
A cold black projection of their self,
For people to walk all over;
And no one stops to ask who made it.

The shadow bearer briefly feels ten-foot-tall,
As the failing sun casts their silhouette,
Over the busy people,
Who care not for the invisible one.

As the sun finally sets,
The world is plunged into darkness once more.
Now the shadow is truly invisible,
Indistinguishable from the shade of the horizon.

The shadow’s only legacy,
Fades into the background.
The cold night is silent for one,
Who is seen neither by day nor by night.

Creative Commons Licence
The Shadow James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.