In celebration of World Poetry Day today, I wrote a poem inspired by online shopping experiences. It’s been quite some time since I’ve written a poem, so it was nice to get a few words out today.
Poetry contains all the poems I have written in the past few years. Most of the posts have the date when the poem was actually written (as I may have published quite some time after I wrote the poem). Some date back to 2007, and I chose to keep these because they are my favourites. I dearly love poetry. When I was a lot younger I tended to make my poems rhyme a lot, before moving into free verse. More recently I have taken a liking to internal rhymes.
I am really passionate about the technicalities of poetry, making particular use of enjambment (run-on lines), and since poetry is intended to be read out aloud, I insist on commas every time there is a pause. If you would like to hear me reading out one of my poems, take a look at Fairy Dust.
If you prefer a list of all poems rather than this category showing excerpts, you can visit this page.
Happy World Poetry Day! I’m sharing a poem I wrote way back in 2012.
It’s World Poetry Day tonight, and one thing I want to achieve out of it is educating people. Educating them that poetry isn’t all about rhymes, it’s not all about love or sadness, and that it can be a way to freely express yourself. There is such a stigma around poetry being ‘lame’, ‘boring’, ‘emo’ and ‘for goths’ – when some of the world’s best poets have written pieces that people have related to so deeply.
I share a few of my favourite poets, a few favourites that I’ve written, and a poem I’ve never published before.
written on 22nd July 2015
like hot air balloons, caught on a string,
begging to leave the hand of the flier.
like whimsical love, waiting for change,
longing for the weather to extend it.
like deep blurry clouds, floating in peace,
stretching, stretching, gaping like open arms.
Blowing out an infinite number of invisible candles,
I’ve always known you were wiser beyond your years.
Every day feels new,
Every day I feel feel like I could be more than blue,
More than orange, purple, pink, green and yellow.
Wandering above lost clouds, and
Them to find their way back home, but I always try
To bring them back to where they belong.
At first I wanted to believe,
At first I tried to smile and be content.
Your wisdom shows me words I can perceive far more than comprehension.
I almost never know what to say,
There comes a time when distant hope comes just a little
Closer, and says you belong here.
Further, but you follow.
Quiet, slow, and transient believing,
The rain disappearing but the friendly storm still left,
Looking but above all, listening.
When you get scared, and then you trust,
Fall in love a little, then all at once,
Ever since James pointed out that an email he received seemed to be written in some kind of haiku because of the punctuation, I wondered what it would be like if someone were to write everything they said in poetry, or something similar. For instance, I love the prose-like way Josh Byrd tweets on Twitter.
I wrote my last post partially in poetic form, free verse, and I figured a haiku would be an interesting way to tell you all about what happened to my old hard drive. I lost thousands of photos from 2006 through to late last year, if you want to envisage how much was actually lost.
There are six parts to this haiku series.
It, Ekka Dreamboat,
As I had named the damn thing,
Had become corrupt.
In a nutshell, I
Something simple done.
FAT. Could have moved all the files
And then converted.
I tried to convert
It when the files were still there.
I thought I was smart.
written 17th January 2014
I wish I could feel the glitter fall,
The same way it flowed from that brush onto my fingernails,
The little pieces crashing effortlessly to the ground
And your teeth, they clamp lightly on my fingertips,
And your breath, dancing on my skin,
Aimless grace held forward by the tip of your nose…
‘Love from’, I wrote,
penned my name,
wrote ‘x’ then ‘o’ —
The moment caught me,
The echo stopped me,
I touched my lips to yours
but you held a finger before mine.
I wrote this whilst sitting alone in a busy shopping centre on the evening of Valentine’s Day.
written on 14th February 2014
rice paper rolls on a fake mosaic table..
and the silence before a night disappeared.
a cold drink,
an icy path,
a former lover with the mark of a warrior on his shoulder.