Poem ideas

20:29

Delays now define

your day-to-day

life, more time spent

waiting and hoping,

than actually living.

20:30

You gave me life,

accidentally, but

life all the same,

with the illusion of

safety and love. Fake

feelings spread thin

and snapped, leaving

me alone. Do you

remember me? The

child you couldn’t love.

Or was even that

memory too troublesome

to keep?

20:31

A moment of self-

awareness and realisation

that releases a breath

so uplifting your feet

leave the ground. Tears

of relief and disbelief at

how easy it is to control

the sky.

20:32

A revelation of the

mind is still forced

into the repetition

of the daily grind.

Sphere-shaped Emptiness

20:28

Left outside, shunned and

forgotten, is a sphere-shaped

walrus, a globe spinning with

no control. Rain trickles

down its smooth surface,

cold stinging skin,

liquid watering eyes, as

stumpy arms fail to thwart it.

Gaia and Terra imprison it,

slowly pushing its helpless body

back and forth, through mud and

sharp stones. It has no grip,

no tread, no way to resist them.

Lights from inside reflect on

its skin, a warmth so close

but unfelt. A man stands

just out of reach, watching.

Round eyes plead to him for

rescue, for his hand to

stop the spinning and simply

rest there on its surface,

to comfort and protect.

The man, unblinking,

shakes his head and

lifts his arms, revealing

two hands made of stone.

Nature vs Structure

20:27

Rain and time are nature’s

weapons, nurturing life outside

your human structure. A well-

tended garden drowns in a

jungle, crawling closer to

your domain. The house

cries out as weeds and trees

grow, piercing and merging

into its brick body.

Misaligned tiles sneak water

from above. Damaged ceilings

drip, drip, drip onto damp carpets,

the scent of abandonment still

lingering in an occupied home.

Futile marks of inhabitation

are foiled as the vines

tap, tap, tap on the windows.

Unwanted life emerges, living

in the walls long before you

claimed the land as yours.

Inside and out are taken,

warriers fighting against

your existence.

Nature vs structure, we

have already won.

Structure of Man

20:26

A new person holds the used key,

ready to enter the man-made

structure, built with another’s

memories and dreams. The door

sticks a little, unlocking with

a special jiggle few know. Its

voice is silent, forgotten from

disuse, but the walls still hold

evidence of its hidden personality.

Words are written on its core,

painted over as a treasure hunt,

ready for new adventurers to

uncover and explore. Will the

evidence of previous successors

annoy, or bring an absent-

minded smile to their lips?

Names are carved on windowsills,

claiming an ownership they

no longer have. Did they

used to sit, looking beyond,

while marking their territory?

Were they desperate to be

included in the house’s flesh,

never forgotten, never gone?

Or were they taunted by

the window, craving the

freedom of nature, but

trapped in the structure of man.

Rambling

I’ve finished two more poems for competitions today (which I won’t post here until after the results have been announced, just in case). It struck me so powerfully, as I was writing them, how much I’ve missed this. For about four years I haven’t been able to write much, and I don’t think I realised how badly it hurt until now. One poem I’ve just written, called ‘Sphere-shaped Emptiness’ has hit me so hard that my heart won’t calm down. I don’t think I’ve ever written a poem that’s affected me so much. It makes no sense, and it might be rubbish, but to me it will always be one of my most memorable writings. I hope I can share it on here one day.

I also realised how much I missed listening to music while writing, and how it stirs my writing soul (so cliche sounding, I know, but I’m in that mood). Not music with lyrics, because that distracts me. For the three poems I’ve written over the last two days I’ve been listening to Erutan’s The Court Of Leaves album, and the Mushishi anime soundtrack.

I think today has really solidified my resolve to never stop writing again, no matter what. I have always loved it, and I always will, whether unpublished forever or not. I’m not my complete self without it, and I just find everyday challenges harder without its relief. So I feel I should say thank you, because without this blog I wouldn’t have had a reason to force myself back into a routine and passion I forgot just how much is a part of me. There’s still twenty-three days until the Creative Writing Masters course open day, so I plan to keep writing and build up a portfolio they can’t say no to when I apply. But if financial status means I can’t go on the course, I’ll focus more on the novelisation of Fallen Wing (as well as this blog, of course).

Rambling

Finally figured out how to display the categories at the bottom of the main page, so people can actually go to certain topics and posts.

One poem is complete and entered into the York competition. It turned out different from what I thought, and I didn’t use half the theme I was planning, so I can use it in something different instead now. One more poem to go for the January competitions I planned to enter.

Poem ideas

20:20

Never have I been so

loved in my life,

never have I felt

so alone. Empty

air occupied around

me, filling the space

with loneliness and

self-pity. Yet I am

the lucky one, with

free time to feel

this absence. No

drive, no purpose,

just the same days,

the same emptiness,

the same me.

But where are you?

20:21

A metaphor is a

sarcastic sentence,

there to goad and

sneer at plain

structures with

no extra flare.

Life is exciting?

No! Life is a

rollercoaster.

Heavy rain doesn’t

compare to raining

cats and dogs.

Her heart of gold is

purer than her kind heart.

Be dramatic!

Be remembered!

Be sarcastic.

20:22

Common sense banging

at the glass around

your mind.

20:23

Time of contempt,

no way out with

a moral high ground.

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