The river’s like a flowing gown,
Travelling around the town,
Breath of the wind and voice of fear,
The river, the river, the river’s here.
Trees worship it with outstretched arms,
There is not a creature that it harms-
Flowing like a wavy tail,
The shimmering blue water veil.
Gentle splashes all around,
Ripples avoiding the dry ground-
Veering left and swaying right,
The glistening sun makes the river bright.
When you cannot sleep at night,
Look out on the river bright,
River's beautiful tranquillity
Cause's dreams of unreality.
This is River - my long lost poem. I wrote the first two verses back in 2007 for a competition which I managed to win and therefore got my poem published in a book. Sadly, I lost the last verse of the poem and had to write a new one, I also added an extra one when I discovered some new ideas in the depths of my mind. I bet it is no where near as good as the original I wrote but I am glad I remembered the first two verses. Comment please!
Friday 26 February 2010
Friday 5 February 2010
Summer Days
The summer breeze
Rustling the trees,
The lullaby as birds flap their wings.
The golden sun,
Excitement and laughter-
Tranquil and glittering,
Warm sand marks the horizon.
Ocean roaring,
Spirit soaring;
Orange light,
Awake all night
Stars shine bright.
This is my shortest poem ever - Summer Days, which is about what I can see when I sit on the beach at the coast.
All comments apprieciated!
Rustling the trees,
The lullaby as birds flap their wings.
The golden sun,
Excitement and laughter-
Tranquil and glittering,
Warm sand marks the horizon.
Ocean roaring,
Spirit soaring;
Orange light,
Awake all night
Stars shine bright.
This is my shortest poem ever - Summer Days, which is about what I can see when I sit on the beach at the coast.
All comments apprieciated!
Wednesday 3 February 2010
Ashleigh Lennox's Poem: Truth
If I told you I was scared
Would you hold my hand?
If I told you I was alone
Would you comfort me?
As the darkness looms in
I feel as though I’m about to be
Swallowed by the fear
It frightens me to see
Nothing at all
The darkness hides so many secrets
So many screams
So much pain
Yet it also hides truth
The truth of life
We live
We die
We fear
We love
We cry
We smile
Do we ever see things the way they are?
As I’m swallowed by the darkness
The truth dawns on me
Though our existence is short
Fear means nothing in the world
And my existence is just a small drop of water
In the ocean of life
Fear is fading
And truth is dawning...
This poem was written by my good friend, Ashleigh Lennox, who is an excellent writer and is probably - as you read this - desperately trying to find a publisher for her books. She is relentless in trying to find someone interested in her books, so if you know anyone please comment so I can pass it on to her. Thanks!
Would you hold my hand?
If I told you I was alone
Would you comfort me?
As the darkness looms in
I feel as though I’m about to be
Swallowed by the fear
It frightens me to see
Nothing at all
The darkness hides so many secrets
So many screams
So much pain
Yet it also hides truth
The truth of life
We live
We die
We fear
We love
We cry
We smile
Do we ever see things the way they are?
As I’m swallowed by the darkness
The truth dawns on me
Though our existence is short
Fear means nothing in the world
And my existence is just a small drop of water
In the ocean of life
Fear is fading
And truth is dawning...
This poem was written by my good friend, Ashleigh Lennox, who is an excellent writer and is probably - as you read this - desperately trying to find a publisher for her books. She is relentless in trying to find someone interested in her books, so if you know anyone please comment so I can pass it on to her. Thanks!
Tuesday 2 February 2010
Trapped In Words
My heart was fading away,
I was overpowered by a spell,
My love of writing poetry
Was gone and I couldn't tell.
Lying in bed so restless-
Unwilling to end my sight,
Unwilling to give up poetry,
I was fighting off the night.
I started with a pad and pencil,
This was foolishly wrong;
There was a tool that could help me out-
My pen sung it's sweet song.
My text is ever slanted,
Words are playing on my mind,
It's like a cryptic puzzle;
I just can't leave it all behind.
The ink flows from my pen
Like the blood flows through my veins,
The truth comes from emotions,
More than lies within my brain;
You have to feel what you write-
And try to sense it all,
My fluency is unexplained,
Within my words - I fall.
Now I'm trapped in my own pen,
I'm spilling out my blood,
I can't explain such an addiction;
I doubt anyone ever could.
Before I wrote, I was unhappy,
Now I feel nothing like before
As I am complete with my hobby-
I don't need anything more.
This is my poem about being Trapped In Words - basically I wrote about me because I was totally lost in words, I didn't have a clue what to write - I struggled to think of a topic so I came to a decision that writing about being completely stuck might work, I had a go and here is the finished product ~ I quite like it actually which is strange as despite the fact I am proud of my work, I can say which ones better than others.
Comment me with details about what you liked, what could be changed etc.
I was overpowered by a spell,
My love of writing poetry
Was gone and I couldn't tell.
Lying in bed so restless-
Unwilling to end my sight,
Unwilling to give up poetry,
I was fighting off the night.
I started with a pad and pencil,
This was foolishly wrong;
There was a tool that could help me out-
My pen sung it's sweet song.
My text is ever slanted,
Words are playing on my mind,
It's like a cryptic puzzle;
I just can't leave it all behind.
The ink flows from my pen
Like the blood flows through my veins,
The truth comes from emotions,
More than lies within my brain;
You have to feel what you write-
And try to sense it all,
My fluency is unexplained,
Within my words - I fall.
Now I'm trapped in my own pen,
I'm spilling out my blood,
I can't explain such an addiction;
I doubt anyone ever could.
Before I wrote, I was unhappy,
Now I feel nothing like before
As I am complete with my hobby-
I don't need anything more.
This is my poem about being Trapped In Words - basically I wrote about me because I was totally lost in words, I didn't have a clue what to write - I struggled to think of a topic so I came to a decision that writing about being completely stuck might work, I had a go and here is the finished product ~ I quite like it actually which is strange as despite the fact I am proud of my work, I can say which ones better than others.
Comment me with details about what you liked, what could be changed etc.
Monday 1 February 2010
What Is The True Meaning Of Life?
It’s a scary idea,
My thoughts are to linger-
The night is warm
But the day was cold,
The truth is a lie,
So let me consider...
Which path in life should I behold?
Don’t tell me left,
I’ll just choose right-
The truth is lie,
I’m certain.
Or am I?
See this funny thing,
Its called true-love
But does it really exist?
See, if you ask yourself questions,
In the depths and the shadows
Of what we believe is a brain;
You can find question impossible
Again and again.
If you understood my train of thought,
Your brain is truly flustered-
Through life,
Through death;
Through all that crap in between
Make sure you know what a friend is.
My guys,
And my girls,
Understand one thing,
From this bizarre poem
That I wrote when I really realised the most
That the truth of life
Is who stands beside you -
Whether that’s a friend,
A lover,
Or your best mate’s mother...
Stay close to the truth
Not the lies.
Well this is a trully bizarre poem - even though I wrote it - but I think it's strangely real in some sense as to what it meant and it's truth what I tried to put across: I wrote this when I realised what my life meant to me. All my friends, and my family and all you other lot who have somehow played a part in my life - I dedicate this to you!
My thoughts are to linger-
The night is warm
But the day was cold,
The truth is a lie,
So let me consider...
Which path in life should I behold?
Don’t tell me left,
I’ll just choose right-
The truth is lie,
I’m certain.
Or am I?
See this funny thing,
Its called true-love
But does it really exist?
See, if you ask yourself questions,
In the depths and the shadows
Of what we believe is a brain;
You can find question impossible
Again and again.
If you understood my train of thought,
Your brain is truly flustered-
Through life,
Through death;
Through all that crap in between
Make sure you know what a friend is.
My guys,
And my girls,
Understand one thing,
From this bizarre poem
That I wrote when I really realised the most
That the truth of life
Is who stands beside you -
Whether that’s a friend,
A lover,
Or your best mate’s mother...
Stay close to the truth
Not the lies.
Well this is a trully bizarre poem - even though I wrote it - but I think it's strangely real in some sense as to what it meant and it's truth what I tried to put across: I wrote this when I realised what my life meant to me. All my friends, and my family and all you other lot who have somehow played a part in my life - I dedicate this to you!
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