Sunday, 9 January 2011

A Countryside Stroll

The following poem was inspired by the beautiful picture prompt at One Shoot Sunday by Kevin “KJ” Halliday.  

Dream-like illusions,
Flood my waking thoughts,
As we stroll along the sunset path,
Towards the medieval church,
Watching the light fade to red,
Her hazel eyes so alive.

Dull creep of aching muscles,
Curls from my toes to my thighs,
As my legs recall the country lanes,
But feeling on top of the world.
Endorphins flow between us,
In awe of the luminous world.

Like a time capsule, frozen,
The little sleepy village silently observes,
As we wander along hand in hand.
A smile creeps across my cold face,
As the isolation seems to soothe,
And build intensity in her touch.

Her beautiful blonde hair fluttering,
Like a thousand butterflies around her,
Framing those beautiful, soulful eyes,
A perfect countryside princess.
Playfully, she runs ahead,
Red dress dancing along with her.

Dulcet laughter squeals "catch me"!
Smile creeping further at the childish game,
The silent village watching over like a parent,
With mild amusement as she runs on ahead.
I run forwards like a lumbering fool,
Amused by the challenge.

Intensity builds as she dances around me,
Teasing my inability to capture my prey.
More intently now, I watch cat-like and sharp,
Each footstep she takes like a bird in flight.
Laughter erupts as I rush forward to catch her,
Take her in my arms and steal a kiss.

Perfect, this day in the country has been.

.

Saturday, 8 January 2011

Sculpted Emptiness (A Magpie-Inspired Tale)

Strange present.
Sat on my desk.
Don't really know what it does.
Or how it came to pass,
That this was the perfect choice,
For a friend to give me.

I don't get it.
The abstract shapes.
Sat there, starting at me.
As though I should read deeply,
Into the smooth black form,
Like a mistake from the clay room.

Cold to touch.
I run my fingers over.
Shiny surface curling round them.
Strange protrusions.
Why would you put them there?
Feeling lost in semantics.

Feeling guilt.
Creeping from behind my ears.
As the black, hollow form
Repulses me so very much.
Surely I've just missed the point?
Or even the smooth rounded end?

This poem was inspired by the intriguing photo prompt at Magpie Tales

A Mantra to Inspire Achievement


The inspiration for living,
Comes from so many things.
Moments so beautiful they almost hurt,
Kisses so passionate that they overwhelm,
Something so simple, yet faultless in its impact.

As you lay on your bed,
Barely sleeping from the stresses of life,
It helps to reach inside yourself and find your goals,
Challenge yourself a little bit each day,
Look deep inside, realise you can be all you want to be.

Searching the soul for dreams is the start,
But the real magic comes in the achievement,
As you look to the stars and take a step forward,
Followed by a hundred more to take you there,
Be proud of these moments, as you are living your dreams.

No one wants to wake up at 80,
With a life crammed with deep regrets,
Seize each moment, each opportunity,
Let the momentum drive you to the limits,
And surprise yourself with the strength of who you really are.

Thursday, 6 January 2011

The Waiting Room

I have an appointment today with my back specialist (trying to make it hurt less!) but as usual the entire clinic has been delayed. 2 hours wait and counting! So to pass the time I wrote this on my iPhone... Hopefully not long now!

---------------------------------

Like the world's worst party,
A mismatch of emotionless faces stare back at me,
As I enter the fold.
A new plaything.
New being.
To enter the waiting room games.

Suspicion flicks across her face,
The haggard woman with the blue bonnet,
As the nurse comes over,
With a form to sign.
Cold eyes.
Burning into my auburn hair.

Tiny child cradled in her arms,
The young frazzled mother apologetically smiles,
As the grizzles start.
Her poor, sweet face,
Crumbles,
As the reddening baby lets out a wail.

Wondering on his face,
The confused old man stares at my book,
With such intent.
Try to avoid his gaze.
No luck.
Can feel my face flush crimson as he bores holes in my head.

Time passes so slowly,
As my hair burns, head is drilled and ears are ripped apart,
Desperately longing for air.
Stuffiness overwhelming.
Must be soon.
I long just to get up and leave this queue to hell.

But wait - my name?
All eyes search intently for the owner's place in line.
Defiantly me, I rise,
Feeling hatred boil.
I shrug.
Apologetic publicly but secretly jumping for joy.

Wednesday, 5 January 2011

An Ode to Spreadsheets


First week back after the holidays is always the worst... so my (unfortunately quite inelegant, I wrote this in like 10 mins this morning!) One Shot Wednesday offering is a satirical ode to how the office environment feels after a fortnight away... and most importantly - the spreadsheet.

Wednesday draws on,
Like the mistress of gloom.
Too far until Friday for the week to end soon.
The ticking of the clock tugs at my feet,
Restless in stillness tucked under my desk.

Back to work, feeling the daily grind,
Running the rhythms right out of my mind.
Strange peopleless calls and faceless mail,
The shimmer of light against beige-walled veils.
Tell me...

How long has it been?
Since this long day did start?
Surely more than the 2 hours that have dragged on thus far?
Even my sums start to spark interesting plans.
As dark spreadsheet magic allures my mind.

Control-C - Control-V, copy and paste,
A simple task done with ease and grace.
A sum of the rows and a formula here,
Complex operations done with no fear.
Simple...

Effortless charts,
Created with but a click,
Hand curled round mouse, the tool of the quick.
Ridged plastic squares, arranged in a block,
Rhythmically tapping the sum of my heart.

This day of frustration at the daily grind,
Could turn out, after all, to be just fine.
As the lure of the spreadsheet grips with full force,
Like a whirlwind of fire ravaging without remorse.
Just once...

Wish to achieve,
The holy grail of Excel,
The pivot table - an operation designed in hell.
Yet everyone needs a challenging goal,
To keep the rhythm of work pounding on in their soul.

Monday, 3 January 2011

Thought Drops on a Winter's Morn

I
                   dream freely
                                                           like
            a bird
                                                         reaching for freedom
                      against
                                          northerly winds
 cloaked
                                 in 
                                                      mystery
                                                                                   these
                stars
                              astound us
                                                          make
      us stop
                                breathe
                                                                         and listen.

Sunday, 2 January 2011

A Pop Star Trip to the Beach

This poem was inspired the photo prompt at One Shoot Sunday - photo by Danielle Kelly.



Trip to the beach.
Promenade.
Another opportunity.
For my publicist.
To shine.

Swathed in taffeta.
Itchy and raw.
Float down boardwalks.
Pretending the world.
Looks only to me.

Achingly hot.
Skin dripping in sweat.
But heads turn.
And pride swells.
Within my soul.

Feather corset.
Tickles my neck.
Unbearably so.
The urge to scratch.
Almost too much.

False smile.
Must look at ease.
Lace veil clouds vision.
Not a care in the world.
Even if I can barely see.

False fun in my eyes.
This is how I roll.
Lusting for sweatpants.
But no one can know.
My inner desires.

The things I must do.
That people enjoy.
Bemuse and amuse.
Yet make me rich.
So no complaints here.


Saturday, 1 January 2011

Wisp in the Wind Contest Entry - You Are My Everything

So I'm giving the poetry contests at allpoetry.com a go, which seem quite good fun =)  Below is my entry to the contest hosted by Donna Grimes aka BluRosePoet8488 (http://allpoetry.com/contest/2506063).  The task being to write a poem inspired by her words:

'I could write a thousand words upon a thousand more and never really touch the depth of the love I feel inside for you. I can only capture a small wisp in the wind to whisper to your heart... I love you!' 
~Donna Sue Grimes~

------------------------------------------------------

Wind whips across my tearful face,
As I stand in the freezing, pouring rain.
Torrents glancing off my sodden clothes
And running down my dripping hair.
Overwhelming,
The intense shaking rips at my soul,
But it could not compare to losing you.

The burning sun sears my face,
As the dry, desert heat creeps inside.
Tearing the moisture from my dry eyes,
Filling my aching lungs with sand.
I can't breathe,
As the pounding in my head closes in,
But it could not compare to losing you.

Icy cold chills my every being,
Muscles tearing as they fight the freeze.
Frozen crystals forming on my cheeks,
Lips too blue to be able to speak.
Agonising,
The painful frost within my limbs,
But it could not compare to losing you.

For all the trials the world could give,
Impossible feats over venomous scars,
This love that words cannot describe,
Would conquer every time.
Invincible,
You make my soul so bright,
How I wish you could see the glow.


------------------------------------------------------

Something a bit different: my poems as pictures...

Wordle's interpretation of my blog at the end of 2010... I quite like it =)  
Make your own at http://www.wordle.net

Friday, 31 December 2010

A Very Happy New Year to You All... Roll on 2011! x

Should everything you thought knew,
Fill your head with dreams you dream,
Then grasp the light of brightness, when
You welcome in this year.

For you have yet to reach the stars,
But soon you will be there!
So grasp the light of brightness, when
You welcome in this year.

(and if you really want to and can get past the cheesiness, then you can just about sing that to the tune of Auld Lang Syne!)

Thursday, 30 December 2010

Confused? I am. Consistent? I'm not. A letter to my younger self.

Part of the problem with being a little "unpredictable" is the vulnerability that it gives you.  While I'm strong so much of the time, I flip to periods I'm quite detached from my emotions, and can be easily hurt or manipulated then.  I forgive people who do not know this, as this is my fault in my omission if they don't understand my behaviour.   However, I've had experiences throughout my life where people knew exactly what was wrong, and used it for their own gain.

With each stumble in my life (of which there have been many) I know now now that I only become stronger.  Part of me wishes that I could go back and warn myself at the very first moment of darkness in my teenage years... and give myself the clarity of mind to stand up for myself.  To stop the damage the idiots do before they have a chance to get their claws in.  And to tell myself what the hell was going on.  x

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear little angel,
Right now the clouds are filling your head,
And it feels like you have nothing more to live for.
You ache with each breath, and long for the world to be filled with light again.
You ask yourself, how can the brilliant person you were last week,
Be reduced to tears on her bedroom floor, carpet pressed against her tear-stained face?
The darkness you feel has crept on so quickly,
Started as a dull ache on your productive week, but built, steadily.
Then, like a lead balloon filled the caverns of your agile mind,
Slowing it to nothing more than a painful whimper.

This feeling, my love, is something you will take a while to understand,
As it's a frequent occurrence in your life to come.
Yet you do nothing to cause it, and you must try to accept it,
As you mind is just playing tricks on you again.
The clouds will roll over you, like a vicious summer storm,
Out of the blue your moments of perfection, inspiration, will be ripped apart.
Where you were once building beautiful words, images, music,
Your soul will have nothing creative left inside.

When the days seem so bleak that you can barely get out of bed,
Don't cry, love.  There's always light at the end of the tunnel.
I know it seems unfathomable, impossible, unreal.
You will ache to be loved and protected more than you could ever imagine,
Sacrificing judgement to satisfy your intense needs.
But love, hold back, and know that the answers you seek aren't there.
You alone can control this feeling that lies in you now,
You alone control the bleak mountain rolling over your head.

My sweetest darling,
The dark desires of your lonely heart, can only be quelled by your happiness,
Built up by routine, expression and exertion.
Things that one day you will learn to lean on.
Structuring your life from the confusion you suffer now,
These moments of darkness you will learn to face,
With a strength right now you are only just learning to master.
Resilience will build up a formidable woman,
Fire in her eyes and a golden desire to succeed.
You will be proud to be who you are, one day.

The moments of light when you can achieve the world,
Will make you more than successful in all that you do.
Like a fern in the woods, you will grow with speeds unknown,
Learning your world and seeing it all unfold before you.
You will reach for the stars, inspired by the bright lights of infinity,
Finding comfort in deep thinking about galaxies beyond.
Your smile will give light to you heart each day,
And you will see in others what you feel yourself so often.

My beautiful butterfly,
When darkness comes, it will be more than manageable,
As distraction's the key to controlling your moods.
You'll carve a life for yourself that will give you the space,
To live and breathe until you're calm again.
Listen to these words as you cry so silently on the floor,
You have no need to fear what you feel, in this moment of darkness now,
As while it hurts so much at this second, you're stronger than this,
It will make you more than you ever thought you could be.


Wednesday, 29 December 2010

Prisoner of the Night [Rapunzel's Plight]

This poem was inspired by a fairytale-themed fancy dress dinner I attended.  The poem is my take on Rapunzel's captivity in the fairytale tower as she awaits rescue.  I hope you enjoy...
[In case it matters - we went as a 17-strong group dressed as the Shrek castmembers...  and I was Puss in Boots!]


Tyrannical skylarks swoop over the sweet, silent night,
Lost in the hazy fog of the black and white insanity.
Deep, dark cuts across the shards of glittering stars,
Shattering off the smooth grey walls of the prison,
Within which she is trapped.

The cool, clammy walls.  Rhythmically dripping.
Echoing through the cavernous stone-clad corridors.
Rough steel against skin, history rusted into each gnarl,
Shuddering as the wind traces fingers over her,
Brushing her smooth neck.

The night's maiden rides into the bleak, black dreams,
Hovering harshly over the scene unfolding below.
The silence broken with heavy footsteps beneath,
Thud... Thud... Increasing in pace now as they near,
Suddenly, a face at her door.

The outline hidden behind the bars leans forward,
Allowing the moonlight to catch the smooth white face,
Gentle eyes glittering into her terrified, trembling heart.
Soothing fears with soft reassuring tones of calm,
"I'm here now, to save you, my love".

Tuesday, 28 December 2010

The Strength of Friendship

After my first Christmas catch up back home in too many years, it amazed me how utterly unbreakable some friendships can be.  You pick up from the last time you spoke without resentment, pain or confusion - as though no longer has passed than a single day.  Such a precious feeling when you see people like that, so this is my dedication to that feeling.  Much love to all the wonderful people in my life. x x


Life's consistent ache - is to belong.
The militant media, filling heads with lies.
Soulless caverns within our soul,
Ache for this empty belonging.
We try building intricate iron-clad structures.
Across vacuous chasms of nothingness beneath.
When really what we crave beyond all else,
Is the bond that friendship brings.

There was a time,
When it ached more than anything,
Artificial loneliness programmed into our souls,
Until we learned to lean on each other.
United. Our hearts.
Swelling with connected smiles.
Together - a team.
We are more than unbreakable.

Each soul fights what it can,
Against the darkness, suffering and strife.
Not always knowing these forces in our life,
Are strongest when times are tough.
There are too many things,
That we try to battle against alone;
When the gravity of friendship would overpower,
And fight the fight with nothing but courage.

My friend,
In every moment when times are hard,
Know in the depths of your soul,
That no matter what happens,
I will be by your side,
Through everything,
Forever more.


Submitted to One Shot Wednesday – Wk 26

Tuesday, 21 December 2010

The Perfect Sunday Afternoon


Curled up on a Sunday afternoon,
On this comfortable sofa draped in fleece.
Peaceful flickering from the crackly old film.
Playing the timely black and white love story,
With its familiar faces and gentle words,
These incredible moments of nothingness
Overwhelm the senses.

Such closeness evoked by the calming hours,
Passing by as though nothing else matters.
The warmth of your chest pressed against mine,
Heart beating like a forgotten clock,
Thudding rhythmically, softly, secretly,
Passing messages between our interlinked souls
Of romantic dreams.

Cold toes wrapped beneath your warm legs,
Curls of denim emanating gentle warmth.
Screen heroine's warm eyes fill the room,
With an intense glow, passionate intensity,
Flooding shudderingly though our embrace,
As the impending kiss crescendo grows
With unbearable tension.

Monday, 20 December 2010

Snow Eagle

Repost of a recent Twitter poem, inspired by the beautiful silence of the snow chaos across England this week!

Dreamdrops of intense hues,
Captivate the motionless sculptures,
Of children in the snow.
Cold, unchanging light,
Still over the skyline.
I reach down to catch them,
One brilliant drop at a time.

Breaking the silence,
An eagle soars overhead,
A majestic beast of the clouds.
Snow glancing off his wings,
As if slicing the icing sugared skies,
Ghostly screeches with each swoop,
Striking chords in my soul.

Fluttering dreams of hopeful wishes,
Standing guard over the barren fields,
Unfaltering loyalties.
He stands proudly,
Over his frozen kingdom,
The trees are silently respectful,
That their king is home.

Sunday, 19 December 2010

The Dark Silence Without Her


This poem was inspired by the image "The Arrow Shot" by Claudio Mufarrege, who has been featured at One Shoot Sunday.

Dark echoes in the ghostly silence,
Resonant moments in time.
Flood through the aching corridors,
Calling out to the loneliness.

The walls oozing sullen intensity,
Remembering each footstep.
Time lost in history's dreams,
As he walks the corridors alone.

So many moments he longed for her embrace,
Yet so many more seconds pass by alone.

Darkness more empty these nights,
Stood alone in the loneliness.
Aching for her to walk with him,
Along these walls again.

Sparks of light shatter the black,
Intensely filling the beautiful walls.
Dreaming moments flung to reality,
The reality of the unknown.

So many times he searched for her face,
Wishing he didn't have to go on alone.

Silence.

No more.

The memory.

Burns brighter.

The realisation that she's never gone,
Builds up in his aching soul.
Brightening the darkness ahead,
Leading hope toward the way out.

Monday, 13 December 2010

In Awe of Frozen Beauty... A Magpie-Inspire Tale


Crisp, fresh, magical.  The glorious white fields await the eager squeals.
Ice-laden trees sprinkle their glittering magic, across the winter scene,
Like a sparkling illusion, the dullest lands contemplate illustrious wonder,
Deep rooted in our souls, a spiritual calling whispers out to our pasts,
Calling to arms the child within.

Excitement overspills onto the icy flood.
Urging to experience, to feel, to touch... as though for the first time.
Picturing ancestors from eons gone by, in awe of  frozen artworks,
What beautiful demon passed his cold touch over berry and thorn?
Painted each branch with a thousand million tiny crystal towers?
Life's stunning perfection, standing perfectly still in its glacial form.

Inspired by the photo prompt at Magpie Tales

Protector - #ForDW


Concrete  Textures


Steadfast, he holds me.
Stops my toes from slipping 
On the crumbling stones,
Stands by my side 
When the avalanche tumbles down.
More than a friend.
Stronger than a rock.
My protector.

The Impossibility of Burning Skies


Burning bright, the brilliant flames of setting sun - entrancing,
Such possibility encapsulated in the unfathomable beauty,
A million, billion stars in the universe, but this one is ours.
A planet alone in unique beauty.
A planet alone in its life force.

Curling delicate fingers of ruby light over the sleepy skyline,
The ball of perfect light reaches out as if to embrace my eyes,
Shattering like shards of purest glass on the shimmering sea.
Contemplation of life.
Fragility to my soul.

We stand together, realising this is soon to be judgement day,
United emotions, draw the astounded crowds of ashen faces,
A wave of acid fear floods over us, as reality becomes clearer,
Burning brighter now.
Reaching closer to us.

The unstoppable forces, greater than the most powerful storm,
Mightier than the most momentously violent volcanic eruption,
The beautiful beast in the glowing skies encapsulates our terror,
Such impossible beauty.
For something so deadly.

The end of the world, stood facing us in a unfathomable disguise,
Deceptively stunning as it tears across our once-safe crystal skies.
I reach to put my hand on yours, trembling at the impending fate.
If it all ends now,
Be glad that we lived.

To stand triumphant of this day of dread, 
Proud of who we are.

Saturday, 11 December 2010

A reality spent living


Walking through crowded shopping streets,
An impending sense of numbness creeping,
Happy, focused faces of passers-by,
Eyes on the superficial prize.
Glass, felt, fur, all beautiful from a distance,
A collective picture of glittering colours,
Designed to focus the mind.
Look closer.
Threads fraying, handiwork poor,
Delicate details blunt and unclear.
The price we pay to have everything?
Really we have nothing.

Walking away from the hubbub of voices,
Comfortable silence reaching out for my hand.
Soothing darkness away from the harsh lights,
Of the superficial street of dreams.
Look around.
Everywhere lives are driven to consume,
Wasteful existences driving delicate dreams,
Of the selfish riches of the corporate machine.
These economies we cannot live without,
Have only existed for 60 years,
Long enough to be forgotten,
Nearly a lifetime ago.

What did we do, before we saw red,
Each time the glittering Trojans invade,
Our houses, our homes,
Our friends, our loves,
What did we do before this?
What have we really saved,
In creating a great lumbering beast?
Consuming our planet, stripping our pleasure,
Tearing our hearts away from our souls.
Is it possible to feel like an Indian girl,
'Saved' from the savages,
And brought 'home' from the wolves?
Lost in the lights, the bubble of greed,
Wishing for a life simple and free.

Aching for freedom,
Shackles removed,
For fresh rain in springtime,
Laughter and song.
Forgotten, that world envelops the senses,
Fresh picked fruit, cool, wet moss.
Beautiful.
Fulfilling.
Perfect.

Soon.