Do you think
It helps
He said
Writing these wry
Little observations
Well, I would
Rather that
She said
Than suffer
Endless conversations
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
Do you think
It helps
He said
Writing these wry
Little observations
Well, I would
Rather that
She said
Than suffer
Endless conversations
My five year anniversary,
Today
And still those feelings
Haven’t gone away
My poems are not
Very nice
Particularly warm,
Or fuzzy
But they do resonate
With those desolate
And who prefer their words
Bloody
I write a bit
Now you know
Nothing special
Or much to show
But just enough
To get me though
And show how much
I still miss you
Forgive my hyperbolic phrase
He said
‘Tis the burden of the poet
You’re just a pretentious cunt
She said
And don’t I fucking know it
As the end
Draws ever near
I have to say
I’m feeling the fear
What will I do
If I don’t write
What will I do
With all this spite?
Pens Down
Nothing lasts
Forever
You know
Not you
Not me
And certainly not my poetry
(Originally Posted 17.02.2021)
At least you
Can look away
When the misery
Ensues
But these aren’t just
Words to me
They are actually
My issues
Well, You Asked…
Although
I find
your
writing
talent
genuinely
quite
considerable
Reading
your
words
over
again
really
does just
make me
miserable
(Originally Posted 28.01.2020)
As much as I love
That you read my words
And you praise them
Like you do
You have to know
As I deliver each blow
That I write more for me
Than you
Hecklers
Has
anyone
ever
told
you to
stop
He
said
With
these
bullshit
rhymes
you
spew
Oh
many,
many
times
She
said
And
I told
them
to piss
off
too
(Originally Posted 27.01.2021)
I don’t often achieve perfection
But I think this is pretty much it
A healthy dose
Of what I feel the most
With just a little rapier-like wit
The Queen Bee
Oh, I’ll point many a finger
In order to right these wrongs
But for her I’ll reserve
The most passion and verve
And the sharpest of razor like tongues
(Originally Posted 26.01.2021)
Most days the process is simple
Words flow as easy as the pain
But I feel so numb at times
That when it comes to rhymes
I doubt they will ever flow again
The Writer’s Anguish
I don’t
think
I have
anything
to say
Today
Perhaps
there
will be
more
sorrow
Tomorrow
So
I will
wait to
pick up
my pen
Then
For
I fear
I wouldn’t
even
know how
Now
(Originally Posted 25.01.2020)
I’m a little surprised
I wrote this
As it’s quite lyrical
For me
That is, of course,
If you ignore
The creepy imagery
How Long Has It Been Now?
From this cold embittered heart
I just cannot be prised apart
Like a leech feasting on a wound
Oh, is there any hope for me
From the past to be set free
And to love again become more attuned?
🖤
(Originally Posted 17.01.2021)
Having mulled this idea over
To a ridiculous degree
I have decided I will
A book of poetry fill
In twenty twenty three
To Publish Or Not To Publish…
You really are quite brilliant
They said
Perhaps you should write a book
I doubt anyone would buy it
She said
Knowing my fucking luck
(Originally Posted 16.01.2021)
‘For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack’
– Rudyard Kipling
There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
He ran away to Scotland
The people for to see–
Then he found
That the ground
Was as hard,
That a yard
Was as long,
That a song
Was as merry,
That a cherry
Was as red–
That lead
Was as weighty,
That fourscore
Was as eighty,
That a door
Was as wooden
As in England–
So he stood in his shoes
And he wondered,
He wondered,
He stood in his shoes
And he wondered.
Shaking cream on Christmas Day while listening to Mary of the Fourth Form by the Boomtown Rats
Playing record
my Christmas present
shaking cream
after turkey treat,
lid open, cream spills,
Dad’s jacket ruined
Dad’s temper flares
record broken
Terrible Christmas.
Dad’s Version
Turn music down
Awful hangover
Sean shake cream
I’m starving
What happened?
You’re sorry!
Jacket ruined
My Christmas present
That’ll teach you.
Terrible Christmas.
– Sean Hughes
“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of
weeping than you can
understand.”
– W. B Yeats
I cannot continue forever
In fact I’m nearly spent
But there will always others
Who will use this place to vent
‘Want’
An artist for the ages
Your words leave me floored
What else is there to say?
Other than please, give me more
(Originally Posted 25.10.2020)
“The darkened space of The King’s Head downstairs room. Tuesday nights are set aside for poetry.
Every week they discussed the purpose of poetry in modern society, and every week they came to the same conclusion.
That poetry is enlightenment.
It’s questioning the norm, to try to find an understanding, to push forward ideas, to discover half truths, to open a forum for debate, to bring people together.”
– Sean Hughes
“and we didn’t love each other
but we helped each other forget
that life is shit”
– Sean Hughes
I’m not usually very good
With metaphors
But this one is pretty neat
Then I guess it would be
As it was conceived
While in the back seat of a Mini
Car Trouble
Nothing makes this better
Everything makes it worse
A body straining in first gear
But a mind stuck in reverse
(Originally Posted 28.09.2019)
“Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.”
– Oscar Wilde
It matters not
How I seem
Through these words
I’ve penned
For if we were to ever
Meet in person
You’d be disappointed
In the end
Telling Tales
Why don’t you
stay here
a while,
he said,
and have
a cup
of tea
But I don’t
understand,
she said,
why would
you want
to talk
to me?
You’ve got
a tale to
tell, he said,
and I’d
like to
find out
more
Well you’ll
be sad
to realise,
she said,
that I’m
nothing
but a bore
(Originally Posted 04.09.2019)
I found her poems
In a cupboard at school
Back when I was young
I realised then
That I’d found a friend
And so to that book I’ve clung
https://poetryarchive.org/poet/stevie-smith/
Dear Stevie
If we
could
meet
We’d
drink
a brew
And
maybe
share
A
laugh
or two
Yet we
would
know
At the
end of
the day
What
connects
us both
Is
life’s
decay
(Originally Posted 20.08.2020)
It may well surprise you to know
I write most poems in under a minute
Especially each one of those
With a shitload of swear words in it
Catharsis
I
really
only
write
the
words
That
everyone
else is
thinking
I
just
say
what
comes
naturally
And
without
even
flinching
(Originally Posted 03.08.2020)
Sometimes
When you’re trying to rhyme
You hit on something
Quite profound
I’m pretty sure
This was one of those
Where I cracked it
First time ’round
(Prick)ly
Not
the
best
at
being
loved
But
pretty
good
at
loving
Not
the
best
at
being
pushed
But
pretty
good
at
shoving
(Originally Posted 16.07.2020)
I think I was once preoccupied
With being considered a ‘proper poet’
But I’ve since come to realise
That my style doesn’t trivialise
Life or how I choose to show it
Bottom Of The Class
I
scroll
through
your words
And
realise
mine don’t
compare
For
you all
write so
beautifully
Whereas
I splurge
without
a care
(Originally Posted 14.06.2020)
To
patch
it up
But
alas
it seems
I was
out of
luck
The Life Raft
Full
of
holes
As
it
rocks
Against
the
shoals
(Originally Posted 04.06.2020)
I was obviously aiming
For something highbrow
Yet I fear this one
Misses the mark somehow
I’ve gotten better, I hope,
And developed this skill
So these words I can now
Consign to landfill
Underground
As
sinister
shadows
loom,
I
see
my
tomb.
Through
the
gloom,
my
dreams
resume.
(Originally Posted 20.05.2019)
Nearly two and a half
Thousand posts
And yet I can still
Surprise myself
Perhaps poetry
Is my future, actually,
So I shouldn’t just leave it
On the shelf
Circling
Like
vultures
Eyeing up
the bones
Of those who
went before us
Now rotting
on the stones
(Originally Posted 14.05.2020)
Perhaps
I’m not so bad
At this poetry lark
After all
Interlude
Time has dragged on today
Even more than most
It started off quite well too
Sitting down with tea and toast
But then the clock seemed to stop
At some point this afternoon
When opening up my laptop
Did nothing to lift the gloom
And as the evening drew itself in
I have sat here all alone
Thouroughly bored in my own skin
Barely stifling a groan
So now I guess I’ll go to bed
And lie there on my own
Until the clock stops in my head
And I dream in monochrome
(Originally Posted 20.04.2020)
I can be quite poetic,
It seems
When I put my mind to it
This one serving to remind me
It doesn’t always need
To be ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’
The Birds
Looking up to the sky
This foreboding feeling grows
As I see the unkindness of ravens
And hear the murder of crows
(Originally Posted 31.03.2021)
What can you do
When the words won’t flow
When you have exhausted
Every topic you know
Perhaps all there is
Is to put down the pen
And hope that one day
You’ll be hurt again
‘His loneness is his shell and shield
And neither he, nor we, will yield’
– Julie Holder
‘We twa hae paidl’d in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.’
– Robert Burns
What do you do?
I write poetry.
Pretty ones? With hearts and flowers?
No. The truth.
I can’t think of another ditty
Or come up with a different rhyme
Not when what I write is so shitty
More than half of the time
‘I’ve fallen down another rung of the ladder, and I know I’ve got a fight on my hands‘
– Sean Hughes
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry;
Oh! if you felt the pain I feel!
But oh, who ever felt as I!
– Sappho (7th Century BC)
Translated by Walter Savage Landor
“in this land
some of us fuck more than
we die
but most of us die
better than we
fuck,
and we die
piece by piece too…”
– Charles Bukowski
'What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part,—
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.'
– Christina Rossetti
‘Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell.’
– Emily Dickinson
There was a naughty boy
And that naughty boy was you
So now you’re a man
Don’t think that you can
All of your bad deeds undo
I’m finally closing the curtains
In the windows of my mind
Another bleeding heart
With wisdom left to impart
You will have to find
‘Thou Shalt Think For Yourselves’
‘The freedom that you wanted back
Is yours for good, I hope you’re glad’
I prefer the night
To the day
The world, on the whole, is quieter
This way
I wake up one morning
and I’ll look at the wind
and I’ll see a song and music
Though I’ll feel nothing
and hear no tune
I’ll look behind me
and see poetry
– Anon
I try to write but the words fail.
Sit, think, smoke, exhale.
As I reach for the coffee cup,
I wonder if my time is up.
Have I forgotten you,
Is that what this is?
The reason I can no longer write this shit?
Or could it be this depression is finally lifting?
Maybe the all encompassing darkness is shifting?
Perhaps after all this time my heart is mended.
And my love affair with words has ended.
(Originally Posted 11.08.2019)
Nothing lasts
Forever
You know
Not you
Not me
And certainly not my poetry
Leave
this
place,
the
light
shape
whispers,
for
it
is
not
your
time.I’m
staying
here,
the
dark
shape
whispers,
for
now
I
want
what’s
mine.(Originally Posted 16.05.2019)
So I’ve opened up an Insta
After discussion with some friends
As not only am I interested
In the efforts others have invested
But also who might slide into my DM’s
😉
It's only when you have nothing
That you realise words are everything
Words make your mind break
Words make your soul ache
Words incite you to roar
Words inspire you to soar
It's only when you have nothing
That you realise words are everything
I have nothing
But my words
(Originally Posted 16.03.2019)
‘I thought that love would last forever:
I was wrong.’
Not much of this is pretty
Very little here is smart
Quite often it is shitty
But it’s always from the heart
‘Have we enough to keep it together?
Or do we just keep on pretending,
And hope our luck is never ending…’
You win
You fucker.
Party in peace
– Sean Hughes
Let’s
meet
upAnd
misbehaveThen
take
our
secretsTo the
grave
You’d
think it
would
take
some
effort
To
write
as
much
as
this
Well
please
don’t
think
me
arrogant
But
it’s
really
a piece
of piss
You’ve
been
on my
mind
today
More
than
any
other
time
If only
it had
inspired
something
epic
And
not this
fucking
awful
rhyme
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