Category: Poetry

‘Lovestruck’ – The be all and end all

All around you you will see love. In the street, on the television, at the airport or even in the cafe.  We just love to love. The way it makes us feel and think. Is there a reason that we are all addicted to love? Like a drug that is never made illegal. We just cannot seem to help ourselves. We stumble through life on the look out for that one person to complete us.

Through tears and sorrow we rise up and get back out there. Usually going through the whole damned experience again. But why do we constantly feel the need to break our own hearts time and time again. Are we genetically crafted to feel hurt until we find ‘the one’?

Whilst we all have our lives to lead and jobs to do, love will always be there. Waiting in the shadows, a constant reminder that we will one day need to hunt. Hunt for the commitment of another. Is it the be all and end all? Well yes. If we are to survive, we have to create. Whether that be in a loving relationship or not we are genetically programmed to reproduce. With that will come love. The love of a child.

Love is all around, without it in some for another we would be weak. After all in our deepest darkest moments, someone somewhere in some form loves us. A partner, child or friend. Love is the be all and end all.

Truth

People will always believe the rumours,
People will always believe the lies,
Take comfort that your true friends will know the truth,
Get on with your life and always smile,
Do not ever let the people get you down,
Your better than them for ignoring it,
They won’t ask for truth as they just care about gossip,
The people that make the stories never thrive,
They have no life beyond tales and fabrications,
They do not realise this will make u stronger,
Eventually if not right now,
At some point the truth will come out,
They are the weak ones for believing it.©

~ Today ~

Petrol prices just dont stop soaring,
Taxes continue getting higher and higher,
Frankly the way the country is run is getting boring,
Will we ever make enough money to retire?

What is it our govournment expects from us?
To pay for their expensive lifestyle,
The way to earn the cash is to be genious,
To find the loopholes that are worthwhile,

Families struggle to pay the rent,
Makes me wonder how the children are fed,
Soon we will all be pitching up a tent,
Its no wonder peace and harmony are dead!

I Thought I Saw

Do you remember where you were, when you heard the news of John Lennon’s murder or the death of Elvis or Kurt Cobain? We are all meant to remember, where we were, when we hear of the passing of our heroes. And then, as the following poem illustrates, we see them … everywhere. And we are always, inevitably…wrong.

There have been weird sightings. With thanks to the genius of those below.

I thought I saw Elvis down the chip shop.

I thought I saw Nick Drake at the snooker hall.

I thought I saw Brian Jones in the playground.

I thought I saw Jimi Hendrix at the post office.

I thought I saw Buddy Holly on a double decker bus.

I thought I saw Kurt Cobain in the cinema queue.

I thought I saw Jim Morrison in Tesco’s.

I thought I saw Otis Redding at the petrol pumps.

I thought I saw John Lennon in the record store.

I thought I saw Janis Joplin in the launderette.

I thought I saw Freddie Mercury in the tenpin bowling alley.

I thought I saw John Bonham in the hardware store.

I thought I saw Ian Curtis in the car park.

I thought I saw Bob Marley in the football stadium.

I thought I saw Joe Strummer in the kebab shop.

I thought I saw Keith Moon at the church fete.

I thought I saw George Harrison in the transport café.

I thought I saw Roy Orbison at the zoo.

I thought I saw Mama Cass at the swimming baths.

I thought I saw Sid Vicious at the airport.

I thought I saw Jeff Buckley in the video store.

I thought I saw Marvin Gaye in the hotel lobby.

I thought I saw Ray Charles at the burger bar.

I thought I saw Kirsty MacColl in the queue behind Elvis.

 

But I was mistaken.

 

The Silk Map (a soldier’s tale)

Your heart is like a silk map,

Of the sort used by soldiers

Behind enemy lines.

No folds.

No creases.

No mark of any kind,

So no one knows your intentions

Or what you’ve left behind.

Neither friends nor enemies are identified.

 

You travel light, leaving no trace.

Footprints are blown away on the wind.

I wish to follow but cannot keep pace,

It is the heartless viagra canada leading the blind.

 

Storms and sunsets built on sand,

Leaving no impression,

Move quickly over borders with no name.

Lost and hungry and with no direction,

The wolves are happy that I came.

 

The fire I lit under your facade

Soon turned to ashes in your hand.

I gently roll our love away and pocket the remains.

No folds.

No creases.

No mark of any kind.

 

Virginia

Virginia Woolf  1882-1941

 

You went down to the river

With stones in your pockets

And did not intend to return.

The water took you back to the womb

And all you’d asked for was a room

Of your own

And some quiet,

No demons,

Words flowing on the page.

 

Stones in your pockets

To silence the voices.

 

The river does not argue

Or judge

Or suggest

Or put up a fight.

 

A room of one’s own,

Ideas,

Paper,

Peace.

 

Stones in your pockets,

The river offers

Silence,

Oblivion,

Release.

 

And women everywhere hang on every word

In a room of our own,

Ideas,

Paper,

Struggle,

Try to live up to.

 

But one morning.

You put your coat on

And never came back.

 

One morning,

The river covered you

And the words never fade,

Ideas,

Paper,

Afraid.

Stones in our pockets

Always weighing us down,

Ideas,

Paper,

Hope.

 

And that river runs forever,

Through all of our battles,

Some are lost and some are won.

Some of us sink and some of us are saved,

Words viagra pills floating on the page,

The words never fade.

 

Ideas,

Paper

And it’s done.