Long day I’ve wandered in mind and paces too
find me through the barrens and I’ll collapse with you.
If you take it, don’t rush, I’ll trail your grace
and follow through the ceded woodland rays.
On into oncoming unpaved winding roads
where a finch glides by like a skimming stone
and takes the whispers from my tongue
his lyrics ‘don’t look back; it’s yet to come’.
Dancing dives a buzzard to his post
over the underpass, a promenade of ghosts
taking us through history to our time
and to all the wonders we can find.
Unseen a lake translucent through the trees
lying like art as an unsung melody.

Jordan Baker


Watching as he crumbles down, He waits
to feast upon his moulder and decay.
He finds it in his eyes, a perished shade
amongst the cadence fragmenting to flakes.
For his fate he’ll take upon His varmint veil
earned when listlessly wondering for days.
The darkest of those could write chapters they say
of addictions and a legacy repaved.
For his sins He’ll provide purgatory again
just to see the hues of fatality it makes.

Now his skin no longer feels the rain
and harder it becomes to stay awake.
With wider eyes perhaps he’ll starve the grave
or with a craving he’d find it just the same.

Jordan Baker

A Last To The Breeze


Ashes gyre a last to the breeze
enchantment, raise, to be seen.
Would you forget about me?

The shadows in the hollows creep
and they tell me I’m awake
in my dwell of taken seraph tone
where ghosts sway to whispered aches.

I can’t swim against the snow
catch flakes of deceit and feign
and maybe tell auroras not to glow
and shooting stars not to fall.
See them fly past all clemency
and hope pass the dark side of the moon.
If instead I could run to cease
then Lord, let me run to you.

Jordan Baker
April 2015

On My Mind

Where angels fall the crazed moors rise,
here in this place, the backwaters’ find,
a river runs through the means to reach a tide.
All in sentient here in the Great Divide.
In a moment, a change in the breeze
I’ll find where amongst it you’ll be
in the barrens when a spark comes along
to stop the storm and prove the poet wrong.

I’ve spent long days searching, longer climbing
to be stood there on that day with life alive
maybe it’s a dream and you’re on my mind.
My tears flow like a mountain river goes
but I’m at the top where just wind blows
and I like to stay there from time to time
holding your hand over splendid skies.
Maybe I’m awake and you’re on my mind.

Jordan Baker
January 2015

It’s hard to find the right words to describe something amazing, but it turns out I had them all along.

What Death Becomes

Long have we all wondered what happens after death and maybe if we did know we would take comfort in the rest of our lives. Some of us have perhaps been closer to death then others and know some of the answers and yet may have even more questions than others. It’s taken me a long time to figure out the questions and list them. Yet still I wonder if we want to know the answers. Many of them I don’t wish to, but need to know if I want to live normally, which would only be possible if the answers are the wrong ones. Internal struggles can drive us insane, thank God for poetry so at least we can confuse others with our confusion!!

If only to know what death becomes
perhaps then folly would cease to feign
perhaps then wars would find repose
wars afar and wars within
and my mouldered skin could feel the rain.
If only to know what death becomes
perhaps then light would stick to day
perhaps no more would I stumble and wake,
awoken by dream and awoken by bane,
awoken by blight and fallen by vice
and the sundown shadows would start to fade.
Would you teach me to pray
and would I know if my words are right and heard?
Would you keep my desires free from malign
and let Heaven’s whispers lend me a week
so I may share in the last and refine?
If only to know what death becomes
perhaps I would not wonder over faith and fate
just accept what is too rich and too late.
Perhaps then I might find some words
and maybe just then see all through grace.

Jordan Baker

When You’re Climbing Mountains

We all dream of having wings and perhaps the ability to fly,
but when a man’s wings take him to the top of the world
he has no further to go and begins to look down.
He looks down on less trivial things and they begin to appeal
more so than his abilities to build new worlds
as he feels he loses interest in conquering new challenges.

Perhaps this can relate to more than just myself. I frustrate myself as a writer, I’ll be honest with you. Without sounding full of myself I know I have undoubted talent and an ability to find inspiration in hard to reach places and make something special out of ordinary fragments of kindling. What frustrates me is maybe a ridiculous idea of desire to achieve. My competitiveness and desire, whilst good for a writer to have, often leave me losing faith with myself temporarily and wanting constant success. Success is something I’ve attained, and whilst I tell myself it has dwindled deliberately as I take my time with projects and leave myself without stress, it can’t be denied I have achieved little in the last year.

So, as a man stands at the top of his conquered mountain he has options: Climb back down and start to climb another or sit on his pedestal and milk it for all it’s worth. I regularly find myself somewhere in between these two options and that in its essence is what is frustrating. I’m hoping readers can relate to this as I have reached this conclusion myself after a year or so going between the two ‘options’. Ideas come to me regularly and often I have faith in them, but shelf them. Sometimes this is to return to the ‘massive project’ when I have the discipline, time and fully-formulated plans and admitting this makes me embarrassed as I know I have all of these (perhaps the latter less so, but this develops as you work, right?). Perhaps the truth is that I simply don’t push myself to give these ideas a good go. Lets face it- if I have an idea that could change the face of literature for ever I wouldn’t just let it sit in the back of my mind for a couple of years would I?

It’s now almost 5 years since I got an idea for a novel, one I went with strongly and created fragments of for a successful University portfolio only to ‘shelf’ as I developed my talents for poetry and short fiction. Once Tears From Abaddon was released I had my study walls covered in post-its as fragments, ideas and notes for the novel- keenly anticipating its completion and the next success in my life. A few months down the line and I hadn’t bothered making a go of it but not to worry my idea developed into something spectacular and I spent days planning something I knew could be special. That was last New Year. Don’t get me wrong, over the last year I’ve continued to develop the idea further (I now feel it really really really has legs!!) and discuss it with intention to carry it out, but the point remains I haven’t. And that won’t do.

Blueprints is coming along nicely because I did the right thing in allowing myself pressure-less time to carry out the project but failed to realise I need to be putting stuff (mainly myself) out there all of the time. I plan to change that in 2015 and not be content letting my reputation go before me. It’s time for the prince to become king or stop bothering.

If you’ve made it this far congratulations!! Sorry to have taken so much of your time but I hope you can take away a message. We as writers, or in fact we as human beings in any career, must keep finding challenges to conquer. It’s about what you did lately whilst you’re alive and I want everyone to keep pushing themselves to be the best, otherwise someone will take your place. Get out there today and find a new chapter to write, a new beginning to commence and a new mountain to climb.

Well Wishes & Just Promise Tonight.

When I look back over my 2014 I simply can’t believe how much my life has developed. Writing aside, I am in a fantastic place, happy as ever and looking forward to my future. As for the writing I wouldn’t say I’ve moved as many steps forward as I did in 2013, however am building the solid foundations of Blueprints by the Sea as well as pottering on and experimenting with other projects. In the end, that’s what I wanted for myself following Tears From Abaddon and I’ve enjoyed having the shackles off my writing life. As we enter next year there could be some huge developments, so stay tuned for those. In the mean time I just wanted to take the opportunity to wish everyone happy holidays and all the best going into the New Year, as well as thank you all for your support, reading and following of this blog and my writing in general. I only wish I could share more with you all.

But for now I’ll leave you with ‘Just Promise Tonight’ and wish you all the best.


Just Promise Tonight

Rest on me as I’m enchanted
by that look 
in your eyes,
captivating and alive
with the beauty
of a clear oceanic sunrise
and a divine aurora of me.
Take me as your haven
and I’ll take your hand,
for no one could appreciate your love
the way I can.

For it I’ll carry the world, hold it over head
and for our times throw it far away
so you can live, just be.
Just promise tonight you’ll dream of me.

Should dreams be scarce, here I am,
come close and into peace with me,
under the stars, feel their glow
and of my love please understand.
I’ll tell you again, until you know
just promise tonight you won’t let go.



Gleams fall through the window
dwindling, they come.
Summer nights are longer
but the times have gone.
Is there a difference between
sun rise and set?
The darker days could write chapters
living in the shadows of nominal
we forget.
But my eyes are wide
they’re open and deep.
In an arms race for power
the future sleeps.
Until reparations are paid
pull me down.
Through all the ephemeral
elations we made
it pulls us down.
As the gleams fade out
I won’t speak aloud.
Lost somewhere amongst
the stars I drift
tumbling in silence in some sort
of direction I list.
It pulls me down.
Onto the cobbled pavement
where once I shared a kiss
pull me down.

Jordan Baker

Into The Red

Where has the time gone?
Once we had many hours ahead
down by the quay, where the river
meets the sea, its present morning
blue has faded into the red.
How will the people speak
should technology fail?
Would it be like a reflection
without a mirror should present
words be said?
It is moving with the seasons-
where once we walked through
guards of green has now
faded into the red.
Quickly it has come, and finely,
subtly just as needle swallows thread.
Beyond your eyes we have wandered,
followed, aged and fled.
Slowly we are moving,
fading into the red.

Jordan Baker
Nov 14.

Drafting Thoughts

Sometimes I dream aloud and fall awake
and as the world revolves won’t always feel it turn.
Sometimes I un-write words and comfort pain,
afraid of flames but destined to burn.
Go ask your God what he’s doing today
whilst he watches the un and reality of life.
Try to feign interest in words he says
and let me know if Heaven’s always bright.
Go ask your God what he’s thinking today
whilst he listens through the urban vaults.
Try to understand why He feels His way
and let me know when Contrition starts.
Ask if when blissful memories are tainted,
discarded into surplus on papered streets
shall we gather by oceans with sinners and quitters
and throw our ghosts into the sea?
Would this achieve release should we repave
over the world’s dysfunctions as it circles
around the all-lasting and sought-after place,
away from that of haunted and hellions?
Until we know we shall do as before,
discarding all virtue like our papered streets
as the tides of our lives tear into the shores
and we throw our ghosts in the sea.

Jordan Baker 2014
Blueprints by the Sea


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