Sunday driving

The Queensway tunnel opens up
Beethoven's symphony
Recedes, stalls, stumbles
And turns to static

So instead
Light, shaped like
Magnetized iron filings
Flickers past,
A break from heavy fog

Waiting
To take me in outside.

For now
We move like antelopes.

-T

Demon Slaying.

Sometimes I catch it staring.
Nostrils flaring.
As I am daring.
Preparing.
The exorcism I am sharing.
No longer caring.
As I'm blaring.
My voice tearing.
Into it's soul.
Break the mould.
Under it's weight, I shall never fold.
Ever cold.
In a six foot hole.
It's heart in a bowl.
Would you ever doubt me, if I told you so?
So I'll let you go.
Into the night.
Without a fight.
If it's right.
When I see the light.
When It's out of sight.
It comes back around.
Out the ground.
Where it's buried, outside of my house.
But it's about to pounce.
Onto me once again.
It's too hard to explain.
Just how to slay.
A demon in this shape.
There's got be a way.
For me to finally lay.
It in it's resting place.
I must quicken my pace.
And meet it face to face.
It's my last saving grace.
To end this stupid chase.
I  shall watch it brace.
Itself, I watch it shiver.
As the image shimmers.
I clench my fist.
And smash my bathroom mirror.
-H

Different Perspectives

I see him every morning, every day and every night.
And just want to make sure that every thing's alright.
For a while now, I've noticed he's quiet.
His eyes are sunken, he looks tired.
He smells different to what I know.
On the air his sadness flows.
He used to smile.
Now he snarls all the while.
And then again, I sit and watch.
While blood drips from his wrists on cloth.
I don't know why, he still has me.
And every now and then I see.
A smile cross his depressed face.
When I see him, and over I race.
When he puts, his arms around me.
When I wake, and he sleeps soundly.
When he's off with his new pack.
He always smiles when he's back.
He laughs and jokes, and is how I remember.
Before around, last November.
Since then everything about him changed.
But now he's back, and he's uncaged.
Because of this, I smile too.
My boy is back, he's born anew.
-The Dog

You're quite like a candle
A sweetheart
When I look at you
While I'm standing
On the ceiling

And you find the idea
Quite thrilling
'We won't pop this balloon
With a needle'
Let's

Hold it above your
Candle
See how long it will take you
To melt it

You don't call me back
You gamble
Deflate birthday balloons
Dim my candles

- Mr. T

Diwali

The popular drink is still, but the bubbles
Prickly to your ear still overpower the
microwave popcorn of Diwali

Much more demanding then,
the unalarming gunshots,
Are pretend, they slice

The air with the flashes,
Penknives, mugs
Or maybe warriors, who knows

I'd like to go and watch, maybe some company
Would do, I'd like to have someone
Say yes

And smooth out the edges of the black
With their coat, their wool or cotton
Just see and understand

-T

In eighteen years, I've touched so many lives.
Seen so many things, tears sting my eyes.
When I 've made friends, and lost others.
Been ripped from mates, I'd call brothers.
Lost family in the process, some before their time.
And can't even express my feelings in these rhymes.
Some relationships, ended in a flash.
Some took time, some I know'll last.
But time lost, can never come back.
A waste of nine months, missery from that.
Happiness today, I find hard to see.
When people seem, to discard me.
Without a second thought, without a second glance.
Again and again, I gave you a chance.
How foolish I am, to walk to your arm.
Knowing all will come, is more harm.
When I've walked away, people called me back.
Think I might ease it, fade my life to black.
Takle the breath from my lungs and the spark from my soul.
Through myself happily, in a six foot hole.
People say, they can't live without me.
Just dump that one my shoulders, and I will smile proudly.
When I stand up, with the weight still there.
And carry on walking, without a care.
I should be flattered, I mean so much.
But then I'm thrown aside, without even such.
As an explination, a reason for this time.
Every second we spent together, must've been a lie.
You can live well, without me there at all.
Finally from the weight, I give in and fall.
Buried in a mess, of every memory.
Wounded but not killed, now you're my enemy.
Bitterness flows like river in me.
So I break my skin, in search of some relief.
Every echo of your voice, is a taunt and a pain.
If only there weren't in my heart but my brain.
For from there I could remove them, but on my heart they seem to stay.
Untill a time, someone takes your place.
And new feelings come forth, and shatter that of you I have left.
And I feel joy instead of pain inside my chest.
Again I see the trend, in everything I write.
A wounded heart, a whimp, something I despise.
So I'm of to bed, at least there I can see.
And remeber everything, that once made me, me.
-H

What to do?

It's a sad world, on they day that you see.
Twenty odd teens.
Starting on man with learning difficulties.
Shaking like a leaf.
Going weak at the knees.
Laughing at his stuttering pleas.
No shame, they're a disease.
And I stand with fists squeezed.
Too cowardly.
To jump in.
Thump skin.
Do something.
I'm pumping.
I'm fuming.
At these idiots zooming.
Around on their mopeds.
Slow heads.
Oh there's.
Too many of 'em.
For me to react.
For me to snap.
While he's shaking.
I am taking.
An alternative route.
Because I'm scared
Too arfraid.
To put in the boot.
Excuses, excuses.
I'm just useless.
And shame oozes.
Through every vein.
Never again.
Will I walk away.
-H

I shall not get my hackles up.
These shackles, stuck.
And tackles luck.
To the ground.
Around.
Surrounding.
Me.
And now you'll see.
What lies beneath.
The thick skin, the heart that beats.
As it dies.
No sighs.
Release.
The pain to cease.
And become bitter.
Sweet.

I'd better rename the last one.

I miss feeling.
Like I'm meaning.
Something to you, squeezing.
My throat, wheezing.
Breathing.
Is so hard now.
Like I've been barred now.
See these scars how.
The flare in the dark.
Every beat of my heart.
Skipping.
Slipping.
Away.
On the day.
I look to the sky.
See the moon collide.
With the sun tonight.
And take flight.
From a burning world.
I destroyed myself.
And myself destroyed.
Totally void.
Of emotion.
Like an ocean.
That is frozen.
No shifting tides.
Nowhere to hide.
On plains of ice.
From your cold shoulder.
When I'm older.
I may thaw.
But until then, I'll stay flawed.
-H

My final post.

The scar on my chest is healing nicely.
But I still want to slice me.
Open and dig through the flesh.
Cut it open afresh.
And get to my heart.
Tear it appart.
I'm sick of the pain.
Over agian.
I say these things.
Look these stings.
The hurt quite a bit.
So I'll slip.
Between the ribs.
Pull till it slips.
Out of my grip.
Lands on the floor.
Stitch up the gore.
And become cold once more.
-H

It appears it's me again.
Who is the outlet of your pain.
I take everything you throw.
And I will never ever go.
The words you use, they hurt like hell.
And penetrate every cell.
They smash straight through every defence.
I ever built, that's why I'm tense.
You cut me up, and brake me down.
But always I will stick around.
Be there for you through thick and thin.
Even when you kick me in.
That's why I used to stay so cold.
It's easier than to fold.
And open up your heart to pain.
And let the tears fall just like rain.
But like I've said, I'm always there.
To hold you up, because I care.
-Harry

I love to drive.
And see the sights.
Of people meeting, beneath street lights.
Young people and lovers.
On the run from their mothers.
Hoods up, covers.
The faces of the others.
Who are as close as brothers.
And the bouncers shudder.
And the fags are lit.
To the smell of fish n chips.
As people switch.
From pub to pub.
Bar to bar.
Club to club.
As we glug.
And forget the world.
Outside the walls.
As a tune falls.
It drops.
Rave.
Forget the day.
Let it play.
Run through your brain.
As you drain.
Another drink.
On the brink.
Of a tactical chundder.
Feeling under.
The seat for your phone.
It's time to get a taxi home.

=/

How much can you take?
Before your heart breaks?
And love just forsakes.
You, all your mistakes.
Lined up in their place.
As tears track your face.
Save the pain just incase.
That bittersweet taste.
Just gets replaced.
And there's an empty space.
Where your heart was encased.
Now your blood's been laced.
With poison, and you chased.
Away love, you're disgraced.

I love the feel of rain on my bare skin.
Let it tare in.
While I stare in.
To this rippling mirror.
I do not look familiar.
The scars I can't see, send me a shiver.
Like a raging river.
Anger grows bigger.
And consumes a swollen soul.
Sitting all alone.
In the rainstorm.
Where it'll brainstorm.
It's mind a maelstrom.
Of the days gone.
By.
Sigh.
Into itself.
Renew itself.
Plunge into the water.
Like a lamb to slaughter.
Drown in a disease.
And wake under the trees.
So eager to please.
It's mind finally at ease.
-H

Winters Ascendance

My love for you is ignited, my love for you has been cited
When I look at your face, It's like looking at heavens grace...
I can't help thinking I am but a mere disgrace.

Autumns descendance, Winters ascendance
When I look into your eyes, I see no love for me
When you look into my eyes, you see there is love for you
You're so afraid, you turn away...

When I glanced into your eyes, I saw there was no loving me
You were so upbeat I am so sure, So why turn away?
When you glanced into my eyes, You couldn't see anything else
Only love for you, so it seemed... you're not so sure.

My love for you is flaming, My love for you burns so violently
When I look into your eyes, I see no loving me.
When you look into my eyes you see the love.
Yet you're so afraid, You turn away...
Can't you see? I am not so sure anymore.

(I wrote this when I was 15 so don't hate too much xD! At the time I considered it a Love Poem but looking back... Hmm. *facepalm)

Views, Poems & Prose of a Self-Declared Madman: Drama Monologue Inspiration

Views, Poems & Prose of a Self-Declared Madman: Drama Monologue Inspiration: "This is a poem, written by James Love about a group of soldiers suffering from PTSD who committed suicide after the Falklands War. One More..."

You.

You.
Are you really so shallow?
To not see what you've done, the harm you've caused?
You.
Are you really so blind?
To mistake the hurt and pain for embarassment?
You.
Are you really so foolish?
To try and ignore what you've done, to try and play it off?
You.
Do you really not understand?
You.
Or have you forgotten?
You.
That she was a person too.
You.
Before you ripped that away.
You.
Before you took it all away from her.
You.
And now all she has to think about.
You.
All she has to worry about.
You.
All she has to hurt about.
You.
And all I have to hate?
You.

-Chris-

I play the part of Judas in this sordid affair,
except I seek not silver.
I play the part of Iago in this twisted plot,
yet I have no general.

I am but a whisper amongst the shouts and cries,
I am but a shadow amidst the hundreds of crowds.
And yet I’m the one they’ll hear and see,
When I speak the truth that they daren’t believe.

I control their very actions with but a word,
I can lead them by the nose to commit actions absurd,
And yet still they listen to my silent council,
And have faith in what I tell them.

For though I am trusted by many,
I am known by few,
This heart of mine,
That very few see,
That forever beats in time,
With the tunes of sorrow,
And the lies I have told.

-Chris

Sometimes, I talk too much...

...and I regret it completely. Sometimes, it's easier to just bite your tongue, and shut up.

The contempt in your breath

equals not the wrath you've incurred

upon yourself. Live and learn.

"Turn around, walk away,

pretend that everything's okay."

But you're too late - always too late.

The regrets flood back into you,

yet you cannot seem to learn

to live like each day was your last.

So think fast. Think fast.

I love food...

...too much. It's not much of a confession, but my voracious appetite does somehow feature in my life. This poem is about an incident that happened a few days ago. My parents must've seen a lot of bargains at the supermarket and bought over twice as much food than the fridge can handle.

Consider the bewildered look upon mother's face

as she stacks the pineapples, the passionfruits, the mangoes,

and father's raised eyebrow when deciding

which of the eight bags of salad

is best to eat!

Consider the fate of the strawberry and summer fruit yoghurt pots,

chilling in the shelves, slowly pushed to the back

of the fridge, like disobedient children,

told to go to the back of the room

by ice cream teachers.

Consider the fate of the custard pies

that beg to be eaten, winking

seductively at hungry faces

and red lips flushed

with hunger.

But most of all, consider the destiny of a boy,

whose will to eat is overwhelmed

by the sudden force

of providence.

I hate holding grudges...

...but I do. And I still haven't learned how to forgive. Someone please help?

In my mind, a fire still burns,

glows brightly when he is near,

its smoke tearing at my eyes,

tugging at my lungs,

its embers burning my feet,

and the past picks up the phone,

dials the present. I answer.

I love having to wake up early...

...even if it does mean feeling horrible throughout the rest of the day. The sunrises are worth it, even in dreary England.

The morning harbinger chirps,

Breaks the mould that latches to my eyes,

The eyelids battle with my dreams,

A Pyrrhic victory thought it seems,

But the victor wins the opportunity

to feel liberty at the hands of the sunrise, oh so...

majestic

sublime

wise

I still gaze and wonder at its eternal glory.

I still love her...

...and I don't know why. I don't know if it's a good thing. Maybe it is. I'll find out some day.

Butterfly wings flutter under moonlight

Breezes whisper soothing seductive tease

Clothed in a hold, encapsulated in a mould

Cast in the past in simplistic duplexity.

Swan glides, skates through the pool of sun

Melancholy lake and aspiring love to make

With warmth and fiery desire, she takes

In burning words, the emboldened cords of my heart.

My mind revolves around the past...

...too many times, especially when I don't have a lot to do. I know that I shouldn't dwell on the past, but sometimes, I can't help it.

A tear or two slips from its cage,

Evokes memories from the past,

Feeds the fire of contemplation for the present,

And numbers the pain of the impending future.

Love hurts.

I'm not supposed to drink coffee...

...because my mum wants all the coffee to herself! But sometimes when she's at work, I love to make my own cup of coffee to feel a bit more "grown up".

Pop! The kettle wheezes to a stop.

Willow tendrils grasp at my nose,

Beckons. My eyelids are ripped open

by its sight - I bring the black treasure

to my wavering lips, I sip. Hmmm.

Exams still worry me...

...no matter how good I am at a subject. But it isn't the exam that I'm ever truly worried about - it's the result that comes later that swarms my mind. Speaking of which, I have a maths exam in two days, hope you like the pun at the end of the poem.

A tidal rip wave surges towards me.

No escape. No time to prepare.

Wave upon wave of questions

hit my fragile shores. I wait

with my arms, hands, brain, sore

from tackling the wave.

I wait for the aftermath.

I feel lucky...

...that I'm part of this technological revolution.

Windows may pop up into a new world,

Communication offering a new Vista

better than the last 7.

"Ace!" my mother shouts out,

I tell her it's not ace, not Sharp either,

but the previous ones were Acer

and Aspire to DELLiver.

Neurons fire, synapses hold fast - a finger flicks, clicks

...opens into white fields of blue, red, yellow, blue, green and red buds.

Go! ogle at its beauty. I'm feeling lucky.

I used to be afraid to dream...

...but not any more, because no matter how bad the dreams get, when I wake up it's always worse.

I saw in my kaleidoscope last night,

a sight so rare to find,

even more so rare to find, the same sin

corrupting your heart and mind

as the one that corrupted him,

turned him into a dog, a pig

wallowing in his whisky misery

and whining, wine at hand,

clutching his beer belly.

I cry awake, remembered the bed.

Then went back to sleep. I'd rather

face the nightmares of my dreams

than the dungeons of reality.

I still stare at the skies...

...every now and then. It makes me feel so alive.

An all-encompassing blanket rages

tonight. Its silken texture belies

its fury. Sometimes, it stands still, and ponders

the story of life, then falls.

Other times, it wavers - and a quick blow

drags its own life away...

f a d e s

into clearer, azure skies.

Your Harry

I've never felt this war before.
Never felt tears pour.
Down my face, my eyes so sore.
Holes in my heart you tore.
I'm shaking like a leaf.
I need some relief.
On my coffin lay a wreath.
My heart, you can keep.
So much looks inviting.
To stop all this fighting.
To give up and ride lightning.
In the sky, I will be sighing.
Now you've lost "Your Harry"
He's cold and dark, can't carry.
On without you.
So now he's about to.
Slam up all his walls.
Never again in love he'll fall.
But he'll still answer when you call.
Still be there through it all.
Still care and be your friend.
Right until the bitter end.
Till he takes his last breath.
And you lay him down to rest.
With a hole inside his chest.
No heart inside his breast.
He'll reamin yours.

I feel like we've been drifting.
Sifting.
Through emotions.
Like an ocean.
I am drowning in.
And I can't swim.
I cannot breathe.
Please.
Don't leave.
I love you.
Too.
Much to bare the pain.
Again.
I'm sat with my knees tucked under my chin.
The walls within.
The all fell down.
Now I'm lying on the ground.
Tears burnt on my face when I'm found.
Drained of every ounce of blood.
Before you throw me in the mud.
Send a message of my love.
I gave my heart so freely.
Even when you mistreat me.
It remains yours.
I no longer need it.
I'm dead, so can't retrieve it.

I'm dead to you, I'm dead to me.

I'm so cold and lonely.
It's like you've never known me.
For everything you've shown me.
You've suddenly outgrown me.
So in the ground you'll throw me.
Turn me to ashes, blow me.
And I will float on slowly.
And never come back only.
A spirit so unholy.
I'm just skin and bone see.
These tears I cry now choke me.
This world has finally broke me.

So I take my heart and paint it black.
No you cannot wish me back.
I'm dead to you, I'm dead to me.
There's nowhere else I'd rather be.
In your arms I am alive.
I never meant to make you cry.
It's my own soul I despise.
You'll rejoice the day I die.

There's nothing left of what I was.
We grew apart, at a cost.
I'm stranded here, I am lost.
My heart's now frozen, from the frost.
The depresive state, reignited.
And I don't even try to fight it.
Maybe I'm sick, maybe I like it.
It's addictive, care to try it?

So I take my heart and paint it black.
No you cannot wish me back.
I'm dead to you, I'm dead to me.
There's nowhere else I'd rather be.
In your arms I am alive.
I never meant to make you cry.
It's my own soul I despise.
You'll rejoice the day I die.

Pondering.

Somtimes I think too much.
And get in a such.
A state.
My lips quake.
As I wonder.
Will I be a blunder.
Of a father.
Like my own would I rather.
Guzzle down a lager.
Belly grow larger.
Anger like lava.
It erupts in your face.
Throw all my clothes into a case.
Tell you I'm leaving.
And leave you grieving.
With two children screaming.
"Daddy don't leave, we love you, come back."
But nothing works, so their hearts turn black.
The daughter get's bullied, but you don't give a fuck.
Same happens to the boy and you say "toughen up."
Maybe if you'd been there then we would be.
Maybe if you bloody cared, then we would be.
But I'm not, I'm nothing like the son you wanted.
Sometimes it's like you want me gone, dead.
And other times you need me, to hold you when you cry.
And it kills me to see tears burn in your eyes.
That's how I know, I toughened up enough.
After all the pain I can still show you love.
Still hold you up.
Still say.
"It's ok"
Still take you to the pub.
When you've had enough today.
Still be there.
When older.
With my shoulder.
To lean on.
Still have tears in my eyes, after you've gone.
But if I ever become a dad too.
I never want to be anything like you.
I'll be the one to teach, my boy to ride a bike.
Be the one with my daughter, up all night.
Be in the front row, of every school play.
Always listen intently, to what they have to say.
See them all the time.
Not once a fortnight.
Never leave them in hospital, screaming in pain.
Never walk away, at the call of my name.
Never Put them second.
Never make them feel unloved.
And even then, it wouldn't be enough.
 -H

Caged.

The pack is split.
It's torn.
It's worn.
And it's only just, started to dawn.
On me.
I'm no longer, safe and sound.
So alone, to the moon I howl.
Hoping to hear some response.
A friendly sound, but they're all gone.
Moving, lost, or just plain left.
I've never felt, how I fret.
Now.
These clouds are dark.
And the howl's a lonely bark.
A growl, a snarl, at those I know.
No friendly love, nothing to show.
Even now, I sit and type.
I know I'll be up all night.
Prowling around this room again.
Trying to just quench the pain.
My hackles up, my head set low.
Maybe it's my turn to go.

I'll rip my heart from my chest.
Maybe it's best.
When I feel so depressed.
And I feel like less.
Than nothing.
The way I'm shoving.
My walls up agian.
To heal the pain.
Or conceal the faint.
Heart beet.
Of the wolf that sleeps.
Waiting to burst forth.
With full force.
And take it's course.
Of action.
No longer be a fraction.
But be the whole being of my soul.
Fur ripples in the cold.
Wind which blows.
The snow.
Over my toes.
Shed the skin.
The one that I'm in.
No longer so thin.
Now my muscle's growing.
And I don't mean the ones, that you flex on your arms.
I mean my heart.
It's fibre now tough.
Even it's beet's rough.

here, I am invading

in incognito, i feel, i can be real.
it could be said, that, perhaps, instead,
of a mask of the occasion,  it acts, as a mask, of deep flush 'reality'
(What a horrible word, 'Reality' is. What a horrible word it can be).
is it possible, perhaps
to be existential
to be nihilistic,
and not to take upon,
those great pessimisms that hold
with existential nihilism,
to be sad,
but hold of the worse,
to hold out,
till you can again think of flighting fancies.
As so easily sways the mind on the corporal.
On the day.
I hope.
And in knowing that hope that is nestled inside the very centre of my cerebral,
fluttering it's wings, or tensing, just for the moment of a flutter,
It shivers of the cold tendrils of despair, and warms the heart a little,
just a little, but enough.

Love it when I'm fine and flying high.
And then some words, shoot me out the sky.
I crash land.
And splash in the sand.
Slash with my hand.
Not left with a strand.
Of hope.
So I moap.
And my throat.
Grows tight.
This just might.
Be the last night.
I give up the fight.
Wont take flight.
Yes, oh, right.
Leave me here.
Lying on the ground.
Don't feel sad.
My heart don't pound.
It's better to be cold, and feel nothing.
Than get hopes up, but never win.
-H

These thoughts in my head go round and round.
What if it's wrong, what they found?
What if it's more than a cyst.
What if I, get added to the list.
And Death.
With his breath.
Like ice on my neck.
Comes calling again.
And I'm falling.
To the same.
Feelings of pain.
I'm going to get a second opinion.

I.

I carry this secret
In me, in The Cure, in The Hammer and Sickle, in these stuck out ribs
It weighs be down after entering the wrong atmosphere

I carry this bundle
Of cures for everything apart from The Secret. I wait it out
Build a wall, The Secret is away and we are one.

You dangle your secrets
In front of my eyes, like carrots, bunny dear
They are small and not dangerous, just annoying

If only you knew
When you wrestle me in the fortress, away
The secret wakes up
                                  and comes out to play.

II.

It's the embodiment of another
It is the weight of nostalgia and something new
Like mutual need for distance but relentless laughter

I just want you to know
How hard I'm trying this time to keep
This fortress whole

Don't go adding to the
Finds, the fires, the tsunamis that It brings
Throw away the carrots and stop playing God


-T

Article I wrote for the school paper about us :)

We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action – F. Tibolt

The action for me was going on a poetry course in Ty Newydd, where I met other young poets who went on in their separate directions to all, each in their way, continue to bring poetry into the everyday. Once you realise you are not alone in your passion to write, to read and above all, to be heard, you can’t go back to life that doesn’t involve sharing your love for writing.

When I came home after the course, an idea emerged. Why not create my own writing society, where everyone has a right to share their writing and gets the weekly incentive to develop new ideas. There had to be a purpose to it too, which is what I outlined in the first meeting – we were all to become self-published authors on a blog that I created ashbycreative.blogspot.com , where everyone agreed to post things that they’d written in the meetings.

So, every week on Tuesday after school we meet in B18. Normally I come up with the concept for each meeting, be it rhyming tournaments, haikus, the theme of love or any other writing exercised that I can find. These I’ve found on the internet and from English teachers, but the majority I think of myself. For instance, this week’s exercise is that each member gets a sealed piece of paper that has a certain perfume/herb/surprise smell that the recipient has to identify with a word. Then the seal is broken and the real name is revealed. Then, a paragraph is written about what that smell associates with and why it is different/the same as the original.

In addition to the weekly meetings, we have writing-related film nights. Last year, I hosted a fancy dress creative writing party that allowed us to be inventive in a more relaxed atmosphere. I tend to vary the location of the meetings as well – in the summer we often have picnics, or in the winter we enjoy the comfort of the heated flooring. Mostly, the meetings take place in a ‘squirkle’ of tables – square that seems to help everyone be involved in the discussion, also relative to the name of our blog - Quirk. At the end of each session, we read out and peer asses each other’s work.

Finally, Quirk has been a place for opportunity to participate in writing competitions, to go on poetry workshops and even to perform at The Curve theatre and Leicester Love Festival.

What I was looking for in this project was other people in the school that have passion for writing. What I found was so much more. The club started out as a gathering of my friends and grew, letting me meet amazing people with touching, beautiful, quirky, funny, inspiring, frightening and amazing stories to tell. There’s so much talent here. Come and see for yourself.

Bare bone, white speckled
Poise, spine
Sky,
today - grey,
yesterday - the colour of wine.

what does a leaning ladder know
About those bending braids?
 - still
Then Whitney Heuston's hair

It knows momentary solidarity.

-Tallie

Results day

Agitation

Makes skin crawl

Makes the whole hall

Waver

Like the way air waves

In heat

Of waiting

Cold sweat draining

From our bodies

Notice

Further in the line

The first person looks

At the paper and

Cries

And others step 

Away

With the paper folding

Holding fates

The Bridport Prize

A competition that gave a name to quite a few famous writers, with a large pool of money to give away!

http://www.bridportprize.org.uk/

Until

Until the time.
I'm no longer alive.
Until I'm.
Up in the sky.
Until I.
Give up and die.
I hope you'll, always be mine.

Until the day.
I'm lain in my grave.
Or my body, is covered in flames.
Until I'm sent on my way.
I hope in my arms you'll stay.

Until I'm, for the worms.
And I can, no longer learn.
Until I'm left to burn.
It's only you, for who I yearn.

Until my heart stops beating inside.
Until the blood in my veins has dried.
Until all the years have flown by.
I hope you'll be by my side.

Until I no longer beathe.
Until my eyes no longer see.
And I buried beneath the trees.
I hope you will never leave.

Memory Lane...

Take a trip down memory lane.
As it unravles in your brain.
Again and again.
And you strain.
To remember.
Days in September.
When it rained.
And you played.
And you stayed.
Out for hours.
And the friends you made.
Now just names.
With no faces.
Along with the places.
Empty spaces.
Where the dust settles.
Covered in rusty nettles.
And wind whistles like a kettle's.
Through forgoten rooms.
New rotten tombs.
Where an old memory blooms.
For the first time in years.
And the tears.
Come quick.
Because then you were happy, now you're just sick.
To your stomach.
So you rumage.
To find something less painful.
More playful.
Times you were greatful.
Great fun.
In the sun.
Where you run.
On a beach.
To the sea.
That you see.
In the dreams.
When it's streamed.
From your happy memories.
Or camping under trees.
And you think "Please,
do not wake me from these."
But memory lane gets longer.
So it gets hard to ponder.
On things that were.
They all become a blur.
That's the biggest pain.
You get from memory lane.
-Harry

Like I give up on cream that won't thicken

On a plant that dries out

On a letter that refuses to write itself

A branch that won't break

A key that won't turn

A hair knot

Your hands fall beside your body, limply

You're tired of this infinite sadness that takes over me

Sometimes

Nostalgia, 

Details, mostly people.

I don't shout, don't break, don't cry

Just tired fingers, ears eyes

Don't let me

Light 

The spark

In my voice.

I miss everybody, especially you

-T

Competition!

http://www.forwardpress.co.uk/

As valued poets, you are cordially invited to write a poem to celebrate the marriage of HRH Prince William to Kate Middleton on 29th April 2011.

COMPETITION ALERT: Rotary Young Writer 2011 - prose or poetry, max of 1600 words for prose, 400 words for poetry, theme on "Community Spirit"... GET WRITING! :D

Brightness glowing, shimmering brightly
A kite that light could dance above
Quickness thinking, tumbling quickly

Coolness chilling, sneezing coolly
Doors that looks could fill with love
Sweetness flowing, kissing sweetly

Darkness dancing, feasting darkly
Pens that craft a life-strewn glove
Loneliness longing, hiding, lonely

Elly

Those that flew as high as kites
In a crimson tinted sky
Now grip their wallets tight

And for their money flight
As they give us all they buy
Lock the door of the bank we might

We don't decide on what's right
We simply see the lies
That keep your pockets light

Bright lights noise and people
Kites flying in the midnight sky
As I march from the church's steeple

Waiting for a cry for help
Once it came I dived into flight so hight
Through a door I crashed with an accompanying yelp

As an old enemy rose and smiled
Picked up a pen and signed my name in blood
I collapsed to the floor, helpless, with a heavy thud

If I could make an all-seeing kite
Tripping and soaring and following me
That I would release with the blink of a night

I would look for a sign in its sight
I would build a door, axe down a tree
Leaning kite, listen to the whispering, light

Of the oscillating spring, of the all-seeing kite
Singing: 'Open the door, get the pen, so that we
Can re-see all the things that our hands can't un-write'

Tallie

A child confused, standing with his kite
Bewildered yet confused and full of life
A child scared, eyes shine so bright

A teenager flustered, in tears running to the door
Burning up heat, sweating down upon his chest
A teenager sprinting, thinking some more

A elderly man sat down with a pen
Beginning to write down knowledge with thoughts
An elderly man, philosophizing within his den

A kite, a door, a pen.

Lizard

Sinister lizard, wagging your tail
Locked up behind bars, dwelling in jail
Eyes raised, cut through the windows
Contemplating silently, plotting against your foes

Sinister lizard, your blood is so cold
Sat outside in the sun, put your plans on hold
Take in the sun, feel your skin warm
Look at me now, watch me mourn

Graham

Elephant

A mouse's worst enemy
A child's best friend
A TV show's character
A bringer of joy
A strange creation
A wild beast
Your favourite animal at the zoo
An exploited mammal
A mistreated and misunderstood breed
An object to be bought and sold
Beautiful
Majestic
Amazing
Inspiring

The Elephant

Claw and mountain
Beak and bird
Bring quiet meaning to these words
A sign of war, of fear, of pride
A flame inside those eagles' eyes
What daring fear or love sublime
Could keep the eagle down this time?

Elly

"the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."
-Jack Kerouac

The Space/Time contium(Or however you spell it)

One of those things you think of too deeply.
And everything gets a little bit freaky.
You feel sick and look a tad peaky.
You try talk but your voice goes squeaky.
It's either religious, or scientific.
Can we not be more specific?
Why not ram, the two together.
God blew up, created weather.
Something that's gone a little mad of late.
We seem to piss off every techtonic plate.
But I'm going off my point, back to space and time.
It goes on and on? There's no finish line?
How can that be? I thought everything ends.
Or at least that the message that life sends.
And what about stars, that burn in the sky.
There's no oxygen in space, unless that's a lie...
Unless every star, is someone's soul.
They carry on living, after being thrown in a hole.
And what about aliens, decending on us all.
The univerese is massive, I feel so small.
If you think too much, you'd think that a life.
In the grand scheme of things, wasn't all that important right?
See, now I start to get a little bit shaky.
I've noticed, it's been happening a lot lately.
Spcae and time, go on, and don't seem to stop.
Yet the human body, gives up and starts to rot?
If God made us, that's a little bit mean.
If we're a coincidence, what on Earth do we meen?
But, yes, space and time, go on and on.
Like a memory, after we're gone.
So, yeah, we might all end up ending.
And somewhere in this, there's a message I'm sending.
Memorys can last, through time and space.
Laughter, love, a smiling face.
So make sure you fill your life with as many as you can.
And the Space/Time continum, your life will withstand.
-Harry

Today

Today, I sent you a message,
I tried to ensure I got there first,
I sent it early and bright.

I imagine you got one from him, too,
But I like to think that's not what you prefer,
Hence why we're talking right now.

I know it must be confusing,
And I damn myself for doing this,
But no one can help their feelings.

All those times he's let you down,
All those times he hurt you,
I've been there.

To pick up the pieces,
To heal your wounds,
To fix the hurt.

And it kills me inside,
I'd like oh so much to act,
Selfishly.

Because I know,
And it kills me,
If you weren't with him,
You'd be with me.

-Chris S
Cheerful poem for today! =p Happy valentine's day, all.

Today is Valentines day once again i'll moan, For each year it passes yet each year I moan.
Perhaps this time it will be my year? Where I can be with someone and cheer
My heart has but one high hope, My brain forsee's the need to cope
For I shouldn't dwell on the matter, Yet I feel once again my heart may be left in tatter.
However I am a changed man, but you can't depict love in a plan
I know I carry echoes of my former self, I had to banish it for the sake of my own health.
Once a heart is broken it is gone beyong repair, smashed into pieces within the chambers lair

As an old friend once informed me whilst puffing, The broken pieces of your heart will dissolve into nothing.
However one piece will live on and grow into a stronger heart, For once again you'll be one whole part.
Metaphorically speaking of course, yet for what my old friend spoke of I will endorse.

I understand now and my time will come one day, for when I meet her she will lead the way.
Assuming I will grow up and be with someone, then right now she is walking under the sun.
I musn't give up hope I must always strive, because together my love we shall be more alive.
Everything I do present day bringing change my dear, it will be for you hun so please do not fear.
I will be the best I can be for you, Until then wait for me as I wait for you too.

Please understand that Valentines Day is not everyones chime, I on the other hand believe what awaits me is for another time...

By Graham Cox. Happy Valentines Day :) x

When Time

When the ghost, is haunting,
When the fire, is burning,
When the wheels, are turning,
Will you feel, my yearning?

When time, is slowing,
And the trees, are growing,
When the river's flowing,
And the boat is rowing,

When the fields, are sowing,
And the world, is screaming,
And the good, is leaving,
And the life, is fading,

And the fire, is burning,
And hell, is raising,
And I am dieing,
Will you be there?

-Chris S

In a house, not a home.
Feeling so alone.
Push to the bone.
Not even a moan.
Escapes my lips.
As it slips.
And rips.
My skin.
Push it deeper in.
And I'll sleep within.
The confines.
Of my mind.
I really hope these dreams aren't signs.
To the blind.
I think you'll find.
I'll take every blow.
You throw.
Every insult, every slight.
They all haunt in the middle of the night.
When I'm awake.
And I start to pace.
When tears stream, down my face.
But I hide away, just incase.
Someone sees the scars I place.
Or have been put there, by others' hands.
I wear them, like you wear wrist bands.
These show where I have been.
These show the things I've seen.
Syliva Plath's got nothing on me ;)
-H

Democracy

Inspired by Graham's earlier post.

Democracy, hypocrisy,
The "lesser of all evils."
"It works to protect the people,
Provide choice,
be equal."
And yet we're stuck in indecision,
between party A, centre right,
and party B, in the centre wing.
And what's the difference?
The two cover up the same policies with different words,
Pretending to debate but agreeing all the same,
And though you might hear that the "budget has changed!
Government spending cuts, tax has been raised!"
No one will stand up and accept the blame.
They'll continue to claim,
Cause outrageous "shame",
And then do it all again under
Another banner, another name,
It keeps the people tame,
To think they have free will,
When in reality they're working at the til,
For minimum wage,
Unable to pay their way,
In a system of inherent disgrace.

So I don't know an alternative,
I can't pave a path to perfection,
Or suggest a different system.
But something needs to change,
For we're stuck in this perpetual phase,
Of indecision, lack of effective legislation,
And a concept so badly abused.

-Chris Sargeantson

Remember Not to Stray

Your heart stops -
But your pulse is set to racing.
Your nerves break -
But your mind is going crazy.

Full of energy,
Yet prone to being lazy.
You know the destination,
But you're on a road to nowhere.

You see the distance shining -
But you're blinded by the sun.
You hear the silence roaring -
But you're deafened by the sound.

You want to see the exit -
To find an easy way.
You're stuck inside this playground,
Without the time of day.

So follow what you think is right,
But remember not to stray.
Take a step into the wrong,
And damn what they all say.

-Chris Sargeantson

Remember Not to Stray

Your heart stops -
But your pulse is set to racing.
Your nerves break -
But your mind is going crazy.

Full of energy,
Yet prone to being lazy.
You know the destination,
But you're on a road to nowhere.

You see the distance shining -
But you're blinded by the sun.
You hear the silence roaring -
But you're deafened by the sound.

You want to see the exit -
To find an easy way.
You're stuck inside this playground,
Without the time of day.

So follow what you think is right,
But remember not to stray.
Take a step into the wrong,
And damn what they all say.

-Chris Sargeantson

Two Party System

Lets talk about Capitalism, Widespread unequal schizm
Many in the poverty trap, few taking a millionare nap
Control is basically authoritarian, look at the oppressed humanitarian
Short term economic wins, long term environmental sins

Lets talk about Conservatism, The old fashioned traditionalism
For many long term pain, for few short term gain
Right wing Conservatism, there isn't widespread spoils of capitalism
A vote for conservative is a vote for a reckless initiative

Lets talk about Socialism, Left wing extremism
With their big government, Unfair yet equal benevolent
Control is centralised, The nation is destabalised
Short term stability, Long term incapability

Lets talk about Labour, Forget your neighbour
Destroy community links, Promote regional kinks
Squeezing the middle, Add a governmental nibble
Everyone go on the doll, for they think you're an incapable troll
A vote for Labour... brings about left wing fever

Don't get me started on the liberals, with their middleground quibbles,
You have a voice, yet only one choice...
Look at those weasels, which is the lesser of the two evils?
Our democracy is a sham, but who gives a damn?
Well I do, and I hope you do too.

By Graham Cox

I'm standing on a cliffside.
Watching as this tide.
Turns.
So quickly.
And the prickly.
Grass.
Under my bare feet.
Sways in the wind, summer breeze so sweet.
In a storm.
Black clouds block out the sun.
This is the end of the Earth, where I run.
To.
In the rain.
And I sit on the cliff.
Watching the sun set.
Breaking the blockade of clouds.
For just a few seconds.

And it beckons.
Me to follow.
I jump, let the sea swallow.
Me like the sun.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Try to catch my breath.
In the depths.
Of the ocean.
.
.
.
.
.
I sink.
I dream.
I balance on a knife's edge.
Reality or the nightmare.
Which is which.
If I choose wrong, can I make a switch?
Still sinking.
I wake.
Into the nightmare.
-Harry

A flashback

Two green candles for the bathroom, to eradicate the clinical smell of the chlorine detergent. Two pink candles for the bedroom, to make the light softer. I light them with a glittery flashing lighter, bought at a car boot sale. 50 pence. Bargain. I remember another lighter, it was simple, green maybe, not with a button you press, but a little wheel, I could never quite get it to spark, on the balcony, in our flat, when I was seven. This was when husband mark 2 would leave for a work trip. My mother and I would watch his dark silhouette submerge himself into the shados of the street that would eventually take him to the train station. We would wait, and there was a fumble, a flash and a waving dot of light, a flame from his lighter. We did the same in return. It was magic for me then, I liked my stepdad then. I had no idea this was one of the little quirks him and my mother had, for me it was a test of communication, an indication of attainable distance.

-T

“FACT” BY CHARLES BUKOWSKI

careful poetry
and careful
people
last
only long
enough
to
die
safely.