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.