Poetry Archive :: May We Know Them

A year ago, I would have laughed at the value of affirmation. Now comes an understanding that such repetition has a significance beyond what was initially obvious to a brain that would tend to shut itself in and avoid change. Not any more. Affirmations of strength and confidence have improved both my mood and ability to be adult in the face of considerable pressure. Sure, there are moments when everything falls apart, but they are becoming fewer and further in-between.

Poetry serves a lot of purpose in my life now, and long may this continue.


May We Know Them

Life, please grant true strength,
existence, tough: fight daily
antagonism.

May we know which path
is safe to tread: protection
granted via respect.

Aid opposition,
equality’s measure, firm
foundation, belief.

May we gain these gifts
without resentment: instead
willingly offered.

Allow all women
hope, love, regard: not with spite,
always open arms.


National Poetry Day :: The Spaces Between

This year, for National Poetry Day, we did things a little differently. Most of the rest of the Poetry World [TM] seems to consider Twitter a place to network or advertise. Making art or poetry here is very much not the done thing. Presumably this is because you don’t make any money when stuff is given away for free. Personally, that’s a dumb way to approach creativity. Stuff gets produced regardless, thus enjoyment comes not from critical acclaim but the experience of creativity.

So, I scheduled 24 Haiku, with accompanying .GIF imagery, and it just happened on the day. There was no ground rent, or worry that nobody would show up. Lots of people saw it, and it made me happy. Honestly, what’s the problem here?

If you click on the Tweet, it’ll take you to Twitter and you can read it for yourself, but if that’s too hard, here’s the entire thing here in full, all 24 stanzas. ENJOY.


The Spaces Between

The spaces between
fear, success: enlightenment
providing reason.

Begin new journey
without judgement: regarding
benefits to soul.

Dispense with anger
jealousy dropped: replacing
hatred, add belief.

Pride, luxury no
longer desired: instead calm
considered response.

First step completed:
time to eat well: consumption
affects mind, body.

Readdress diet
every mouthful: mindfulness
allows feelings place.

Walking every day,
increase to run: smallest steps
transforming a life.

Gym time’s not scary
start routines small: keep moving,
escape entropy.

Reduction of Things
material wealth: take stock,
living matters more.

Question relations:
challenge convention: mindset
altering outlook.

A key to knowledge
self-reflection: challenging
traditional past.

When all this is done
take a step back: growth evolves
from long-term habits.

The spaces between
experience: involvement
breeds fresh impression.

Consciousness opens,
receptive mind: preceding
course alteration.

Thousands of options
presented whole: pick and choose
the best way forward.

Reinvent prospects
identify goals: right time
for new employment?

Hobbies, interests,
define passion: perception
sharpened by belief.

All of these guidelines
simple focus: look to self
healing, redemption.

Put your blame aside
accept notion: ego takes,
allow soul to give.

In quietest moment
loudest truth remains solid,
malleable self.

Become new, own change;
embrace evolution’s march
transmute existence.

Only by assent
freedom accepted, can life
progress as fruitful.

Let go of bitter
past and present: look upwards
understand the vast.

This being, perfect
cosmic miracle: release
altered energy.


Poetry Archive :: Last Gasp

Haiku are, at least for me, the means by which progress can be measured.

Things are looking pretty good right now.


Last Gasp

Perhaps the point reached;
old degrading: allow peace
space within your heart.

Ignore constant beat
marching time: this future hewn
with past’s storm-felled boughs.

A fatal, last gasp
Summer’s passing: arrivals
falling into place.

Decomposing fault,
brittle crackle: time to wait
for Spring’s renewal.

All soon forgotten,
season’s change: redefining
our shared existence.



Poetry Archive :: Your Loss

Starting next month, I’ll do my best to provide at least a paragraph of explanation per poem. Often they just get written on the fly without much thought, but occasionally something begs to be written. This is a case in point, and is one of what is likely to become a running commentary of how people live their lives so much online, as to make it impossible to devolve reality from fantasy. Relationships will suffer. People will get hurt.

Nothing good comes from obsessive behaviour, and never will.


Your Loss

I am sorry that suddenly
we are no longer whole;
overnight, unexpectedly
perfect World caved in, messy
puddle of emotional frailty
left at your front door.

I am fully aware circumstance
has overtaken reality, swallowing
moments bring clarity: intent,
zenith of combined passion
lies buried in that hole
dug with garden shovel.

I am conscious of your loss,
meticulously recorded across
all social media, tinged
blood red indignation
endlessly retweeted outrage
no end in sight.

We were never an item
despite protestations
contrary positions posted
until, crucially, reality
intervened after which time
nothing else was real.

You have created drama
where none previously existed
in a clever attempt to
deflect reality’s glare
away from a truth
that never involved me.


Poetry Archive :: Soldier

Normal poetic service returns on October 1st.


Soldier

Perpetual war,
mind’s quiet struggle: embittered
body, battlefield.

Continuous fight,
maintain control: entrenched soul
scrabbles through dark dirt.

Bullet hurts, bitten
before surrender: passion
shot down, casualty.

Rows of dead feelings
destroying intent: shattered
yearning, plea for peace.

Too tired to struggle
let me yield: reparations
held in shaking hands.


Poetry Archive :: Sinner

If you follow me on Social media you’ll know I’m taking a week’s break from poetry to focus on long-form fiction for a deadline. That means this week it’s a selection of already-written work, from times past.

This and the Haiku seemed like a decent high water mark to temporarily bow out to.


Sinner

Not afraid, happily admit
mistakes indeed, too many made.
Perpetual sinner, begging
repetitive, bleak forgiveness.

Cast adrift, harsh memories, this
becalmed soul waits for tide to turn.
Wind’s change of heart, kindness presents
safe port to harbour mounting dread.

Becalmed, distressed, undernourished
siren’s song no longer distracts.
Passion evaporated, sea’s
salvation, unexpected care.

Washed up existence, shore-line breaks
gentle motion, stroking tired limbs.
Reanimate being, salt licks
bearable pain, healing mind’s wounds.

The sinner, repentant, standing
prepares again to face her fears.
Start another, measured journey;
creation returns confidence.


Blue Sky Thinking :: Dread

[INT; Alt’s Brain. Good and Bad are standing on opposite sides of a very large sinkhole, which has unexpectedly appeared in a vital part of the organisation structure. They stare at each other with uncertainty.]

BAD: Nope, this definitely wasn’t here yesterday.

GOOD: Wonder how much stuff we’ve lost down there…

[From the darkness of the hole there is movement, then a small, hesitant voice calls up.]

DREAD: Er… is there any chance of a rope…?


It’s not been a great week. I’m behind, but am determined to get everything back to a semblance of normality as quickly as possible. It would help if I didn’t have this constant, nagging fear at the back of my mind that there’s really no point, because if there was only one reader total on my blog last week, why exactly am I bothering?

One day, that could all change, but if I don’t try, how will I know?

Imposter Syndrome is a bitch.


DREAD

Between breaths, dread slides,
hand to shoulder, slightest pressure
restrict movement, arrest progress
perfect assassin, silent killer.

I will prevent, hold back, disarm
progression, confidence, belief
this life, not yours, penance made
each joy, removed, destroyed.

Hole opens beneath, hope swallowed, receding faith, destruction
sucked downwards, spat outwards, crushed beneath, opened up:
depression formed, weathered front, low pressure, happiness drowned…

You win.

I’m lost.

Sanity

smallest cost.