Power of Speech

Controlling beyond imagination:

Words have so much power,

They should not be capable of.

Holding hands with their creator,

Destroying emotions, as if happiness

Was made to crumble;

As soon as the child looks up at the Sun,

With a sparkling heart and soul,

They cry out in sudden agony.

Naïve to the realisation;

What they love is what killed them,

And they will continue to fall in love

With words they are yet to hear.

The Wanderer

Wild and free, an unknown cat

Wanders the field of buttercups

Soundly sleeping in the bushes,

She awoken in the mist of my shadow.

Silhouette; she ponders her first impression

Questioning my aura, she looks up

Bright blue eyes, sparkling vastly

I squat down on the grass,

Hand held out to her just metres away

Wandering around me, I stay still

Quiet and smiling, peaceful in her company

I allow her to follow her nose kindly.

Rolling her scent into the grass,

She allows me to pet her behind the ears,

And feel her fur, stripy and soft.

[ This is not my cat ]

Minefield

Trapped. In this metaphorical minefield,

Where only poetry makes any sense.

Twisting and turning like a child 

Desperate to awake from a nightmare.

There’s very little hope that I will wake,

Surrounded by suffocating darkness,

I swallow all of my words and reach out

For I have nothing else to lose.

Walking through this black hole,

With sweating palms held out, open

I’m sure to catch all the pain and misery

Invented by the underworld’s Lord,

But with hope still strong,

I endeavour to grip onto any kindness,

A white feather, of my guardian,

A star, rainbow or strike of light…ning,

As long as it helps me feel something,

Anything other than this cold air,

Like a demon breathing down my neck.

I will not stop until I find the mine of Chance,

That may be in my way.

A Vegan In The Family

It’s always been Me growing up differently,

Forming another kind of branch on the family tree.

Instead of a pretty flower or root, 

I’m the branch who grows all the fruit.

My own individuality, seems to affect all,

As if not eating meat causes a brawl.

We share and we chat, we laugh and we play,

But nobody else seems to feel the same way,

About the way poor animals are harmed,

Living their precious little lives: battery farmed.

Hoping deep down, I am helping them out,

My older sister goes to vigils to shout-

To get involved with animal rights,

Keeping their hearts loving and bright.

Playing With My Future

I mostly remember the days when it used to rain,

When I would be stuck in the house, alone

With the purple cube, a retro video-games console.

Setting up, untangling all the wires from yesterday,

I scan my collection of games, what do I want to play?

I never completed one game. 

I’ve always grown up, imagining to have a successful life:

To be likeable, have a million-and-one jobs,

And to have a lot of loving pets. 

But, like the videogames, I fear more as I get older.

The people I meet are mean and working,

Only to pay the higher-people. 

There’s very little chance for me,

To succeed. To complete just one of these videogames,

At an Amateur level, 16XP and with 0 gold rings,

Is more than I am capable of… but I accept this challenge.

The People You Want In Your Life

Who thinks outside of the box?

Ready to answer the unimaginable,

Before the possibility of such questions-

Even being invented, has arrived?

Those who sit and stare, patiently-

Watching, waiting to share their

Valuable and sentimental information-

With the world, make the Future clear.

Eyes look upwards in their bright clarity,

Always brimming with passionate colours.

Like petrol-fuelled tears: highly explosive,

Shining in the direction of their dreams.

They open up only to a select few,

Similar to the rarest of all the flower buds,

Seeking for the perfect, bravest bees

To collect their pollen.

These are the people-

You need in your life.

Flying Starfish

Everyday, I complete ordinary Sea-Star activities.

Sticking to the stones in the sand,
Absorbing vital nutrients day by day.
But the water is changing…
The sea is filling with dark energy,
Sharp and broken ‘things’ appear-
Without warning.
Routines are not made to be broken
But today I need to make a change…

Shuffling over my rocky bed,
I let the water wash me ashore,
Fleeing from my home, I regret my choice.
Instantly the sense of danger arises.
Under attack! I have been captured…
Taken into flight, in the gullet of a bird.
Petrified I fight to fall back into the ocean,
I pray to return to my rocky bed.

Thrown and bitten, I scream in terror
“I am not a fish!” I cry, “I am not your prey!”
Unheard, I get tossed and carried away,
Never to be seen again, on the beach of Nairn.

Hedgehog Adventures

Awakening in my pile of Autumn leaves,

I yawn with happiness, stretching my legs,

I stick my nose out of the leaves and sniff!

It’s evening. The air is subtle and musky…

I feel safe to take my first steps outside.

After a long, warm sleep, I’ve been prepared-

To endure in my nightly, 1-mile stroll.
Setting off, into the golden, glowing Sunset,

I look up and study the scenery in awe,

Lots of flashing lights, illuminating the sky,

To the shallow, sleek star-struck field of nature.

I wish I could move my leaf-pile house here!

The steady silence is easy to fall in love with:

You can wander with no anxiety, simply existing.
An abundance of berries blinds me-

With joy! I munch on their fruitful colours.

Regaining energy, I come across something new;

A small hut, covered in leaves, it’s cosy-looking.

I look inside to see if it’s a vacant little house,

Feeling like the naughty, young ‘Goldylocks’.

Eventually, I begin to forget what was important,

My small pile of leaves, the perfect Hedgehog Home.

I, The Hamster

Thousands of tiny, inaudible sounds,

Pierce through the skin in an instant.
It’s hard to cope with such small ears,
Noises that should be tiny, have huge effect.
Child scraping against the metal bars
As the sun rises, irritates, And
I just want to sleep and block it all out.

A radio: Instruments and Vocals too strong for lungs to bare.
They should’ve exploded by now,
Jingles and slogans, child-happy laughter that seems otherwise amusing,
Increases the pain in my head…
But I know I am loved.

Called out for, I wrinkle my nose, as the sawdust-nest cascades around me.
Bright light almost blinds and there’s a potent pong,
of soapy hands reaching out for my fragile body…
A cuddle! So comforting and warm,
Releasing all anger from the sounds I suffer.

Sleeping Is A Form Of Art

Sleeping is the most creative form of art!

Merging the reality of life,

Into the realm of fantasy.

Where would you rather be?

Going to work, or dancing in the Sun?

Walking to a shop, or exploring a jungle?

These things we could do in real life…

But who takes the time,

To feel the passion of nature?

In dreams, no heat is too suffocating,

No Sun will ever burn, no pain is ever felt.

Swimming in the oceans in a dream,

A fearless experience! 

The interesting facts of the world,

Rules Define qualities of every individual,

Are beyond escapable. Freedom lies within a Dream.

Take chances and doze off in the Summer’s Sun.

Or return to the reality of life, dreaming of it.