Tag: poetry archive

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Poetry Archive :: The End

You’re seeing this much later than originally advertised, for which I apologise, as life slowly gets back to normal after my enforced layoff.  This is a largely uneven work, if I’m honest, which may well get revisited and revised as time goes on. As it transpires, however, this a decent testament to my mood as drugs didn’t work and indeed made things worse.

The End

Skipping to the last page
Predicting own demise,
Obsessed with an ending
Long before it arrives:
Life remains for living
Make better use of time,
Gift that keeps on giving
Moments stay sublime.

Healthy not to look back
Focussing on the now,
Sometimes backwards helps to
Grasp understanding how;
Why history repeats,
Mistakes made time, again;
Reorganise methods,
Conscious, against the grain.

Start to plan your next phase,
Stop worrying ‘bout time:
End arrives regardless
Out of your hands and mine.
Instants as if your last,
The mantra of each day:
Letting go of concern
Allows fears to allay.

Time is key, happiness
And with it, sense of self;
Know how mind, body work
To maintain pristine health.
Trusting soul, nothing else
Enlightenment arrives;
Let go of fear and doubt,
Consistency survives.

You’re the problem to solve
Take a long, cold hard look:
Time to move with times,
Get this brain to unhook.
Think, what would happen if
Tomorrow was the end?
Start today with the change,
Modify, habits mend.

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Poetry Archive :: Flower

Needing the means to inspire myself this week, this was my solution.

Flower

No longer dormant:
Stand tall, and flower: transform
This sad existence.

Plunge strong roots, deeper
To fuel change: metamorphose
Brilliant, redefined.

The new beginning
Substance of desire: moving
Forward to future.

This does not frighten,
Motivation: push onward,
Fresh bloom emerges.

Under burst of sun,
Egress whole: our happening
Apex of freshness.

#Narrating2018/General Writing Post/Poetry/Writing Projects

Poetry Archive :: Not Any More

This week was about writing the poems, doing the miles and not allowing an injury to overtake everything. It didn’t help I finally succumbed to the cold both my kids have been labouring with on Thursday, but as I’m already on the way to recovery, it’s no biggie. Plus, I’ve done more work in the last week on both bike and legs because left arm is not happy changing gears. Sometimes, it isn’t the issues that you have to deal with that matter, but how you view them as either positives or negatives.

Here are 20 lines based on the Beatles’ song “She’s Leaving Home” with a vital sex change.

Not Any More

The bags are packed, by old front door
An early morning chance to run;
He’s just not taking any more
Escaping from this life’s begun.

Old Beatles song plays in his head
With sexuality transposed:
Main reason why he makes the break
To live in freedom, unopposed.

Family cannot understand
Supposed to be their loving son,
Attempt to tether him with fear
Their line is drawn, arguments done.

A bright new day shines on the path
Direction now he walks alone;
Away from prejudice and spite
Only existence ever known.

To be a lover and a friend,
As partner waits to start anew:
From anger, hatred two men forge
Beginning, brilliant and true.

Art/Poetry Projects/Internet of Words/Poetry/Writing Projects

Poetry Archive :: Not Good Enough

Artists are very good at mentally beating themselves up. It comes, I think as part of the territory. In order to be a success, there’s a measure of self-loathing and that constant niggle, at the back of your head, that maybe you’re just not good enough.

This won’t be the last time we touch on this subject.

Not Good Enough

A disappointment,
Head shakes, sadly: at what point
Did this all break down?

You have failed to grasp
Inherent issue: sometimes
Life is not simple.

The judge and jury,
Sit, pronouncing: this outlook
Hardly sufficient.

Everything I tried,
Effort expended: sadly
Fate remains unchanged.

Understanding now
It doesn’t matter: outcome
Never good enough.

Art/Poetry Projects/Poetry

Poetry Archive :: Imperfect

The last week’s been tough, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve found out a lot about myself, and not all of it has been good. In an attempt to learn how to communicate better, a lot of shortcomings have been identified. Yet again, as we go back to the start of a month and a new set of projects, comes the realisation that habit is okay. I’m getting better at organising, but that in turn shows up more imperfections in the planning.

This week’s poetry, therefore, reflects an almost perennial struggle to improve the process, both personal and professional. This poem’s also been slightly edited between first publication and here.

Imperfect

However hard I try,
There is no escaping.
Countless faults and foibles:
Embedded in shaping
The person within,
Find space to begin.

All that is seen, these holes
Counted imperfections:
How conflict forged my soul.
Sadness, recollections;
Move past times I failed
Shortcomings exhaled.

In the darkest of days
It would be so simple:
Ignoring my failings
Those dreadful examples.
Of me at my worst:
Pained, selfish outbursts.

As this new morning dawns
Renewed optimism:
At the journey ahead,
Time for heroism.
Put doubt to one side;
No need now to hide.

Grasping all of the tasks,
With belief as a guide:
It is time to evolve,
Go along for the ride.
Whatever may come
I’ll cope, ‘til it’s done.

#Narrating2018/General Writing Post/Poetry/Writing Projects

Poetry Archive :: Details

“Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing.”

– August Wilson

Details

Deconstructing me,
Pick apart threads: underneath
The depth of being.

Reassessing paths,
Signposts, direction pointing
Towards renaissance.

Rearranging thoughts,
A different view: altered
Attending details.

Disassemble those
Disparate parts: equating,
I am but a sum.

Transformation comes
From knowledge: in my control
All is possible.

 

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Poetry Archive :: Enjoy the View

Normally, I’d offer a pithy insight to this week’s work, but if you’ve been reading my personal blog you’ll know it’s been a tough ask to make it to Sunday. The poetry this week reflects that, and so I’ll simply present it as-is. This work has been edited between being first posted and subsequently archived here.

Enjoy the View

Too often humans will forget the point,
Whilst chasing enlightenment to anoint:
Remove divinity others pursue,
Stop stressing your lives and enjoy the view.

Repeat mantra ‘it’s not all about you’
Reminds inescapable facts so true:
Some might find it easier to blank out,
Improving existence, what life’s about.

Gurus and shysters will try and convince
Diets and cleanses make mind, body wince:
None of these extras is needed to see
Honest direction to head, and be free.

Don’t listen to those who clearly won’t care
Obsessed with image, barely self-aware:
Large corporations that try to deceive
Promising all to faithful who believe.

When all’s said and done, be real with yourself,
Doubts and preconceptions left on the shelf:
Only one concept need remain as true;
Be decent and fair, enjoying the view.

 

#Narrating2018/Poetry/Writing as Therapy

Poetry Archive :: There Was No Glory

I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few weeks researching Art History: sculpture is an intrinsic part of man’s expression, from simple carving to increasingly sophisticated works of anatomical complexity and accuracy. It was this desire to record history in three dimensions that ultimately inspired this week’s haiku.

You can find my Art History series on Instagram by clicking here.

There Was No Glory

History, written
In stone across centuries:
Strong, solid stories.

All those deities
Religious diversity:
Bound by common theme.

Struggle to survive,
Wars and conflict: their reward,
Carved as testament.

There was no glory
At moment’s definition:
Simply quiet relief.

Lasting legacy,
Entropy not yet destroyed:
Victory, remains.

Art/Poetry Projects/Internet of Words/Poetry/Writing Projects

Poetry Archive :: Did it Again

It is becoming increasingly impressive how a poem written at the start of a week ends up as being more apposite than when first written. It is almost as if life is imitating art. In this case, this is a pretty accurate representation of the balancing act that takes place between my brain and body, and that the consequences of ignoring one for the other does end up having a physical affect on my life.

I think I might go have a nap after I’ve scheduled these poems.

Did It Again

Waking once more before the dawn
With mind racing, ideas unborn:
Creative need inspires this soul,
But is not helping body’s whole.

This situation, every time
Believing everything is fine,
My creativity demands
Physical cost, out of my hands.

For days the sleep that brain will need
Is sacrificed, comfort concedes
Battle to my higher functions,
Causing physical malfunctions.

These bruises, bumps and scrapes attest
Physical status is oppressed:
No need now to co-ordinate,
Make use of brain, before too late.

When finally the moment’s passed
My body’s first request, when asked
Is not for exercise we skipped
But simply for a nice, long kip.

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