From the comfort of my crumpled, quilt womb
The sentry tower clock rings out round the room
Awakened from the world where I wish to stay
A world I struggle to get to at the end of the day
I yearn for the world of colour that is so far away
Instead of this world with its blackness and grey
Suffocation, emptiness, and non-facial expression
Gets worse by the day, as a prisoner of depression
What do I find so fascinating and appealing
As I lay quite content staring at the ceiling
Not wanting to face the world, I find hell
Just wanting to crawl up, back in my shell
Suddenly, a Tsunami of light floods within
The ones who love me suddenly burst in
A kiss wanted as they set off for school
I push them away, how can I be so cruel
A comfort from mum she leads them out
An ultimatum of love, is delivered with clout
'We can't carry on seeing you like this......
You need help to escape the abyss'
You need expert help, echoes through my head
It is make or break now, as I stir out of bed
Hastily dressed, unwashed, and unshaven
A journey to the doctor, is a make or break one
When was I captured, handcuffed to this role
I think at the loss of a loved one and then the dole
He asks, do I sleep, and how healthy is my appetite
And then went on about a theory called fight or flight
I tell him there are times that I hate gonna bed
I would rather stay up half the night watching TV instead
But then comes the morning and the cycle begins
Of pain and tears and painted on grins
He said I was captured many, many months ago
It can take anything to unlock its door
Once it is released its a hard thing to tame
It can happen to anyone so please don't feel shame
He offers me tablets to aid sleep and mind
He said they will help, the cog inside to unwind
I longed for the clock to hit half past four
To share my news as they walked through the door
I'm the man of the house I say, as tear falls on cheek
How could I let my guard down and become so weak
My lover tells me the words she had heard in a song
It's not that you're weak darling; you've been strong for too long
I saw a bird
The bird it looked back
The bird was a duck
Quite quiet its quack
A limp in its leg
And a crick in its back
Broken, one wing Read more...
Poetry - Sundays By Michelle Dee
They tell me there is a deer, roaming free
in the graveyard - I've never seen it.
I've seen a muddy dog haring, all paws and playfulness,
the dry husk of a fallen seed, now skeletal and fruitless.
A forgotten garden-seat swinging, couple-less in the breeze.
The aching of a stout ship, full sail behind a dusty pane. Read more...
Poetry - Fairytale Love By Katelyn Langston
I drown it out with happiness
I drown it out with tears
Pushed back into my memory
You find my biggest fears
Some could be considered normal
Some could be considered fake Read more...
Poetry Funny The Things That Happen By Pamela Scobie Photograph by Tim Green
I met an angel the other day.
He was sitting on the steps outside Wrangthorne Church
in his shirt sleeves
in the sunshine.
And d'you know what my instinctive, uncharitable thought was? How dare you?
Poetry - Poppy Power By Ted Harben
Do you ever sense the visions
in the poppy that you buy,
the countless squads of soldiers
ever cheerful, marching by?
See the bloody scenes of battle,
the carnage of the guns;
or watch the ghosts returning,
Poetry - Ode to a Tea Bag By Ruth Dixon
Tea, I love thee
You're yang to my yee
But when you're mint
You're not everything
You're cracked up to be
Tea, you and me
When I find myself in times of trouble PG Read more...
Poetry Casa Nostra By Pamela Scobie
He took her away from a house that had loved her
And told her to find another
So they could be together.
'You'll do it, kid,' he said.
So she did.
It was in need of affection and care
And he wasn't there. Read more...
Poetry - A Study of Mischief By Bronwyn Ellis
When sticking my nose into trouble,
Cured the bullies' thirst at school,
It was worth those shitty grades,
To know that I could still keep cool,
And deal out rebel stories,
To naughty pups half my size. Read more...
Poetry - Bonfire Night Memories By Simon Icke
It's bonfire night and the sky
is full of crackles and bangs,
brightly coloured lights.
The damp November air;
full of gunpowder and
the smell of fires
Poetry HU7 Part One By Kerry-Joe Pulford
Almost de-railed, too thin, too pale, looks quite scary for her age,
Hides behind the home page.
Best diet ever tasted,
Direct from How to Look Good Wasted.
Poetry - Cut Out These Cut Outs By Jan McGeachie
How effective will placing
Of serving police officers
Be, inside stores?
Will they deter
Those intent on shoplifting Read more...
Poetry - Pipe Dreams By Terry Ireland Photograph by Roland Standaert
Yet another empty shop;
another set of dashed hopes?
Maybe a young couple who
just didn't know the ropes.
I wonder how they felt,
what plans they had made
and how long it took
for all their hopes to fade.
Poetry - Budget Day 2012 By Terry Ireland
I suppose I'm biased
Being of pension age
Though I must admit
Not really feeling any rage.
For I see no real sense
In having a good bitch
For historically the poor are
Ever exploited by the rich. Read more...
Poetry - Pigeon Toed No More By Michelle Dee
The shell rifling through the feathers
buried in its back, the shock, the stunned shock,
the paralysis, the total loss of familiar flight response.
The avian behaviour, proof only
of existence, not of life.
Further penetrating shots.
Poetry - Six to Pay High Price By Patrick Henry
Six mainly Yorkshire soldiers who died,
Blown up in Helmand, and on the world press front page:
Heroes gone, to feed endless need for power and pride:
Senseless fighting for a poor, poppy-sown lost frontier land.
Might of Alexander, Genghis Khan, the British Raj, the Soviets:
Failed to figure how those ragged tribes had not kowtowed.