Untitled-feedback needed!!

I wrote I miss you in the recess of a muddy puddle

Letting the water dismantle my words, ever so quietly

No cracks to behold, or a sliver vacuity, just a blur..

Always a blur.


I sprayed I hate you in red ink all over the road

Something for the rubber to make noise on, since I never did

It mixed with grime until I couldn’t see anymore

And neither could the driver.


I wrote I love you in blood on a scribbled math page

Letting it fade, as all the passion had

The coal mine of our land, empty now

Depths to fall in.


I typed I give up in a font that you would despise

Giving my fingers room to move

As I kept my mouth shut, scared of being driven into words.


I scrawled that I don’t care anymore

Or that I don’t miss you anymore

Letting the remembrance of those our love had killed rock me to sleep.

I write like you- not like you.

And its all true, what I write, except maybe-

I don’t miss you-


But I miss you when I’m breathing.

Where are you going?

In Railway parade

There is a girl

Oh where are you going now?

Her fingers to busy, to quick for traps

She is writing the love of a the storm

Oh where are you going now?

She wants for you to stay

Like the simile for metaphors

An undecided thing

Oh where is she going now?

It’s almost Christmas Eve

Oh don’t follow; she knows the way well

Oh where are we going now?

No salvation on this Yuletide Eve, this Yuletide Eve

There is a present underneath the tree

The one that is from me

Where do we go now?

Where are we going?

I bought you my heart

But Jesus smashed it on the floor

And took my soul away, a verse at a time

Where will I go now?


You’ve gone where I can’t follow.

The Sound of Time

  Inspired by WH Auden

The sound of time

Is the tick! Tick!

Of the hall clock as

You wait for supper.

Everybody knows it

But they think nothing

It’s just a tick, akin to a church mouse waking.


The feel of time is

Scattered pages, holding secrets

The edges rough

The face smooth

Everybody feels it

But they think nothing

It’s only paper

Akin to the pages in Bibles and sermons


The taste of time is

Salty and red

Blood spills, yes

But it heals, it just takes time.

Everybody tastes it

But they think nothing

It’s only drops

Akin to the grazed knees of childhood.


The look of time

Is long reaching bands

Of silver and gold

That shows the passing of hours and minutes and days

Everybody knows it

But they think nothing

It’s just a tool

Akin to a bell or pair of scissors.


We hear.

We feel.

We taste.

We see.

We do not realise the

Traps that have sprung

Tricking us to think

That we are the masters of time

Time is the unforgiving master

That controls and meddles

Not enough time, we say

Time is running out

Everybody knows it

But we pretend

That time is contained in clocks and pages

Time is akin to grains of sand sliding

Far too soon down the slide of life.

There is not enough time.

　

　

　

　

　

　

viscous

Random. I got the idea from a prompt.



If only I’d known

That love is like Honey

Gliding on trust me

The juiciest flies caught

If only I’d known

That you’re not so faultless

Syrup, not Honey

To runny

Nothing to hold me

And to make me stay.

Paint Job

　

Paint Job

The fence was far too high

To begin with

And it was no mean feat

To pull it down

But we did

The scarred wood cracking

Warped by the sun

That had split many a rock

Then you said

Next is my house

And a roof tile fell off

Shattering a faded gnome

And you sweared at the kitsch of it all

Then melted into the old kitchen

Still with its ’85 rubber oven

The cordial was old

Like you

And warm like you

Bottled with experience

We drank slowly, out on the falling porch

The blistering haze cracking cicada shells

The paints in the shed, you said

The grass snapped like Oyster shells

Under my thonged feet

And the bucket of colour was heavy

You held the stripped brushes

Gentlemen’s moustaches

Able, brown fingers open my heavy tin

And we started to apply it, slick as grease

But three times more pretty

With your straw hat you looked like a paragon of the sunburned country.

That was Australia, in ’99

And that was the day we painted Grandad’s fence.




Please comment! This is only the first draft :)

Hey Jealousy

Hey jealousy

You can be my best friend

Whisper in my ear

Or you could be my lover

And a sweet nothingness, to

Hide behind the smoke screen

Glory in my lack of inhibition

Nibble at my soul.

Hey jealousy

You can knock at my door

Give me flowers and

Seduce me

Blind me and take me

Tell me I can have it all

Hey jealousy

You’re the beat in my ears

The taste in my mouth

You’re my director

Who hides behind the curtain

Hey jealousy

Why do you fill me up?

When I see her

The poison in my brain

The cogs in my heart that

Roll and fight-that’s you

Hey jealousy

Can you see what you’re doing?

You’re breaking me apart.

You’re holding my heart away from me

Hey jealousy

Maybe I don’t care anymore

Maybe I haven’t for a while.

Second Stimulus poem

This poem was inspired by the image that Liza over at Vintage Lace ( A seriously cool blog) sent to me. Its short but i hope you like it.

Thank you Liza! Sorry for the wait!

Farm

The rooster crows

The chicken lays

The farm is still

Till milking time.


I have no idea why its doing this weird underlining thing :/  But i hope you liked it!

Stimulus based poem

So I've got three images to write about. Thats three more than i expected to get. Thank you Guys:)

The first one was submitted by my sister, Lucy. It was the easiest to write about.

This hasnt been edited yet. I'm aware that the ending is weak, but I was really excited to share it.

Wales:

 Image submitted



It’s almost peaceful here

And yet

Does the moon shine here?

Does the sun rise?

Veiled smog

Shelters the valley

The barren trees made of indifference

No love for winter, no hate for spring

The ice river

Has seen no skates for years

The weeds have climbed their frugal climb

Up the hills, hoping for sun

The rocks carve a godly face, to those who believe

And moss spreads across it

But it is the never moving clouds that make the tourist halt

The grey slate that hangs over like judgment of the worst kind

It is this that makes the tourist ask himself

Is this Wales

Or is this hell?.

Poetry Stimulus

Hi everyone,

So, i have a challenge for you guys. I want you to email me a random picture of ANYTHING ( Yourself, your pets, balloons, landscapes, anything else in the world) and i will write a poem about it within 3 days, hopefully.
Get clicking!

Love
Arwen

Letter unwritten

Hey guys :) first love poem I'm posting. Get used to them, i write loads!

LETTER UNWRITTEN


Thick edges rough enough to cause pain.

It lies on the desk, waiting patiently

For its perfect blankness to be spoiled with

Crimson ink and angry words.


In your mind the scene replays

Black seal, broken by eager hands that

Falter as the letter falls to the ground

Tears of the one you used to love wet the paper, the ink runs.


But when you wake

The blankness stare back at you

It slaps you in the face

No ink or words, not yet.

And the pain is yours, for now.


No thought of forgiveness stains your mind.

You know there will be no letter -

You can never hurt the one you love.

Like ink stains; she never goes away.

Walking

I was never really sure whether this poem is any good. Let me know!

Walking



My feet

Hit the

Ground

At 90

Miles per hour

And they

Never get tired.

Taking

Sparse steps

Giant steps

Dance steps

Lingering steps

Guilty runaway

Steps.

There goes the

Door knocker;

The fleeting impression.

The voice in the wind

The face at the window.

Steps to take

Danger away

But none to take the throb away.

There are more steps to

Take, though.

Into darkness

Into the smog

All the while

Singing a

Walking song.

Punctuation

Just a draft really. Enjoy!

Punctuation:

You and me

Are like a

Sentence that doesn’t fit

In the rhyme

Or a story with no ending.

We forgot to capitalise

So now theirs no beginning

Of us, our story

Just useless words and pain.

We did not use commas

So now we can’t take breaks

We can’t go apart

To much empty space.

There are no quotation marks for us

To mark who said what

Does it matter if I said I love you?

If No one can remember it.

I didn’t think to use full stops

So we drag on and on

No definitive ending

Just looks and tears and aching hearts

No exclamation marks were needed

It’s not as if we shouted

All you did was walk away

From me and you and us

We forgot everything

To giddy with our love story

To bother to correct ourselves

And we dammed the

Consequences

The only thing used too much

Is the symbol that determines us

The question mark, it’s far to cold

And it hangs over us everyday

I wanted to rub it out

I wanted to re-write

It did not work

So now that question mark

Is maybe there

For life.

England

I wrote this the other day. Its a bit diffrent from what i normally write. I hope you like it!

ENGLAND

A wise man once said

That if England fell

The world would follow

And now

Staring at the haze of action

The ripple of Vulcan

Smelling charcoaled flesh

Faces alight with

Looks of tortured love

I am deemed to confess I believe him.

My window of safety seals me in

From the drenched tide of massacre

But I can see the flames spread

To the tower

Where dear old jack cremates

Oh, if the gods looked down

At fair England

They would see a noble country

Seething with passion

As the gates home are barred

The blood lust despoils the grounds

Of my ancestress

Tearing the grandeur so hard fought for

Into shredded delusions

My room is burning now

But it seems I have a visitor

A raven he is

Treacherous and black

With a love for shiny things.

But I will not disfigure England’s pride

I will do my fair land justice

The window ledge invites me up

I see the throng still fighting

With a cry and a raise I throw and fall

Into the pools of gore

Through a haze of suffering

I leave my title

In the streets for beggars

I will not fool myself anymore;

A queen without her crown is gone.

A Birds Perspective

Inspired by Thomas Shapcott.

A Birds perspective- 

Fluttering in our trees;
Eucalyptus and pine
We wait for machines of tin
Our homeland they try to seize

 Sounds muffled by feathers
Footsteps pulling us away
From our native tethers
The future, no way to alay.

 Balls of colour take flight
Head for the sky
Avoiding the darkness
As our home is ripped apart

Heading back to earth
Our habitat filled with
evil mirth.
Our lair poisoned now..we take flight again

A poem for a poetry blog

Hi Everyone,
This is a poetry blog. So i think its fitting that I begin with a poem :)

This poem is called Night Creature, its not one of my best ones, but, hey, I like it.
Feedback is appriciated :)

Night Creatures

The evil beats inside its heart

Prowling our streets after dark

The anger lives in its soul

Eyes burning as if coal.

Little stones leave scars so deep

Thrusting others into sleep.

Its footsteps light, unheard until

Others blood it does spill.




To its place it does retire

With poison it smothers the fire.

The metal falcon returns at last

Hooded now, its flight is past.

The falconer dreams a deadly dream

He aims and fires, he is unseen.

The beast a man, his footprints

Left where death has been.

There we go! I hoped you liked it.