Thursday 7 th May 2015
Pulling my hand towards the door, was a force I had no power or authority over. A force that had left me appalled, bewildered... that had left me staring at the contents of a room I could not yet make sense of. It was unspoken of. What was I doing? My mind, submissive in character, was desperately ordering my body to obey the words that I had been told only too often: "Don't you ever dare walk past that door". But I did.
Thursday 9 th April 2015
Stress. Pain. I had to relax. And so I found myself in the forest, where I stretched my arms and released it all. Poured the negative contents out of my brain, into the grass, which in turn, absorbed it all.
“I am free!” I yelled, laughing, almost maniacally. But my behaviour no longer mattered, for I was all alone. I had all of this to myself! Oh, how unbelievable it felt, how spending a few minutes in nature, among the trees and fruitful plants, how it made you feel so alive, so detached from the insane world of ongoing stress.
Except, it didn’t last forever. Because now, my reasons for running had changed.
Thursday 9 th April 2015
Outside, the sun is bright, the clouds are out, andinside the piano sits, scores neatly open, ready to play
with my cousins
and all these yell at me. Come, come
in a hypnotic dance
alluring me, dragging my mind
out of its container
that no longer wants to work.
Take me, take me.
Desperately, the container reaches for its contents
and forces them to stay
where I sit, head on table,
pen in hand. But what happens
if they are blank?
Outside, the sun is bright, the clouds are out, and
alluring me, dragging my mind, I sit, head on table,
in a hypnotic dance.
Come, come, where I sit, pen in hand,
out of its container, ready to play
because I no longer want to work.
And all these yell at me,
for, what happens, if I am blank?
Monday 2 nd February 2015
My friend wrote this poem during a game where we asked each other to analyse each other's poems. I asked her to analyse the first stanza from "Such Nonsense Words". Although she was not implying anything as she wrote it - despite what anyone may think as they begin to analyse this - I believe it is a very creative and interesting piece of work. Click read more to read it.
Monday 24 th March 2014
My eyes filled with tears as I read the letter again, and over again.
“If only she’d gotten the letter… If only..”
“If only, what?” a beautiful tall girl gazed at me as she asked me, her blond hair sweeping against her face. Her sad, haunting eyes reminded me of someone long lost and gone, yet I could not remember…
