Do you ever take the time to stop and look around you? To hear the birds? To see the tears? To just absorb? try it once in a while. Everything in this blog is what I absorb. What I notice. What I step back from the crowd to observe. Try it. See where you get.

Sunday, 29 November 2009

Alena's Island

                                                                         <i>29th November</i>
It's been a while, Alena
Since I last wrote to you.
But, my senses say you need me
And my senses still hold true

Our child is well Alena -
A year since past was born.
And yet, before I knew it
From her my arms were torn.

A year, a year,
A very long year
From which I swore not to write again
But I was urged, to take up the pen.
For the sake of the daughters of men.

Alena. Do hear me.
And know I am still here.
And in my presence you have nothing to fear.
Held in this letter.
Is a ticket to the sea,
from which we'll be home again.

Our island Alena,
Do you remember that?
The beach upon which we sat
And promised each other it all
And if ever we should fall
Then, we would catch and hold
And bend and fold
And then one day our story be told.

A year Alena.
Natasia's year.
And we have nothing
Nothing to fear.

I am waiting Alena.
Upon our sand.
I will hold you,
And we shall stand.
Upon the shore
where it all began
The bells did chime,
and the wind it rang.

Thus the ink did flow,
Thus time did slow.
Thus, we did grow.

If your heart is aching.
And your mind is cold.
Then I am quite willing,
To be there to hold
And if you are blinded
And no longer can see.
Then listen for my voice.
And I will call for thee.

Amor Vincit Omnia.
Forever, is this.
Amor Vincit Omnia.
Eternal Bliss.

Wednesday, 21 May 2008

And Off She Goes

This poem is one of my forgotten 'soul' pieces. And no, that title isn't as cheesy as it sounds nor have I designed an entire segment of poetry entitled "My Soul Pieces" It's just a piece that I hold close to my heart, although, in honesty got buried under layers of work. This poem was started over a friend who, at the time, was really dear to me. I'd been looking at conversations of past, and found things that almost made me cry. I've edited things of course, so instead of a friend, it's a love. It's strange how things change in the blink of an eye. Our friendship was swallowed by the shadows, that were hidden by the light. In the end, It will never get better. I miss it. Truly so. But life must move on, and so we must follow. The reason for her leaving into the trees is that I always felt trees represent life and as such she's moving off into a new life. A bit of information for you there. Enjoy.

And off she goes,
Into the trees
And, sadly, I say
I know why she leaves.

We say goodbye,
No tears, no hug
But as she leaves
My heart strings tug.

I say goodbye
And something dies
for I know that,
Inside, she cries.

We must let go
Of dreams we had
Of romance and love
But this goodbye is mad!

Wait, I cry!
Don’t leave me please
I must convince her,
This moment I must seize!

I love you I swear
with all my heart
She smiles at me sadly
Wordlessly, telling me she must depart.

And off she goes,
Into the trees
Though every bone,
In my body, disagrees.

Tuesday, 20 May 2008

Spontaneus Writing

My last post was a piece of spontaneous writing, and this got me
thinking that I should make a post about it. For anyone else who wishes
to write, this is a completely invaluable tool, and can work on
anything, not just poetry. Stories too. So what you need to do is the
  1. Find a quiet spot. Anywhere will do, your bedroom, you're kitchen, a beach, a rock on some god-forsaken island, anywhere - as long as it's quiet!
  2. Make sure you bring something to write on. Preferably not your arm. Never enough space. Trust me, I've tried it. And bring a pen too. Pencil's snap far too easily. If you have decided to write on the god-forsaken island, as stated above, you might want to bring a few pens. It could be a while before you're discovered.
  3. Now to the fun bit. Start using the globes in your head, alsoknown as your eyes and while you're at it use your ears too. A thing that I tend to do is sit perfectly still, and find a sense of calm within myself. From there you hear so much, that you would never hear before and see things that usually only your subconscious notices. Once you've found something you re drawn to, bring out the pen and write about it.
  4. Ignore a title. It's never good, in my book, to know what you're writing about when it's meant to be spontaneous. The purpose, is defeated.
  5. Start writing. And, this is the most important bit. Don't stop. Don't scrunch up the paper, score out lines, rub out things (You shouldn't be able to anyway - Read instruction 2.) or anything along those lines. Even if you write a load of gibberish (Trust me; the first 20-odd times I wrote something spontaneously it was a bunch of mixed up words).
  6. Once you're finished take a look at it. If your unhappy with your writing - tough. Stick it out. Keep it somewhere. You'll see why in a second. If you are happy with it, then look it over and give it a title you deem fitting. And type it up. Save it in a folder named poetry, or something like that, on your computer.
  7. Next time you do spontaneous writing you have two choices. You can either start something entirely new (Best to go to a new place.) or you go back to your original position, take your draft (Told you, you would need a copy) and using the same stimulus try again. Try to get it to make sense. Repeat step seven until your happy to finish step six. Then start all over again! Enjoy.

Monday, 19 May 2008

Fallen Demons

This is a little exercise, that I do quite frequently - spontaneous writing. Now, all spontaneous writing needs, is some time, and quiet. (Or perhaps not. As I've said before stimulus' come in all forms.) The particular basis of this poem is The Devil. Some people may protest about this, but free speech equals free typing too, I should think. I'm not a Devil worshipper if that's what you think. But belief, is a wonderful thing. And there is so many beliefs, just waiting there to be explored! I decided that people fear the Devil; so why not fear God? To anyone curious, the belief tends to be if you wish to sell your soul to Satan, you have to sign the 'contract' in blood. Anyway, I digress, spontaneous writing. So, this piece took 10 minutes, on the spot writing. Really good for the mind. Seriously so. Enjoy.

The world is falling,
The dark is calling,
The night closes in,
The fear shall win.

God has no mercy
For those of my kind.
Who pray to him daily
And grant him their mind.

The dark is rising,
The walls are dropping,
The angels have fell,
The life is hell.

Satan, is waiting,
To claim my soul
What use is a soul
In a world that's not whole?

The blood in writing
The god is fighting
The boy of life
The terror is rife.

Here I am, ready
Escaping the sun.
That burns upon my flesh.
Here I am, ready
The deed it is done
the terror begins afresh.

Sunday, 18 May 2008

Cursed Gift

This next piece, was a piece I had completely forgotten about, that has now been adapted. But onto history. I had originally, tried to write a novel. My introduction to that novel is what you see below. I've lengthened it slightly. It deals with eternal life, a subject I always tend to identify with. Enjoy.

So long ago I felt such pain,

Loved ones who I’d never see again
But now, I am utterly bled
And inside myself
I am all but dead.
It’s not what it’s meant to be
This ‘gift’ that lives inside of me
For I wish with each passing dawn
That come the morning light
it shall be gone.

The world I stand in does not need
a man without a single greed
Too tired to stand, once more, and fight
and rid the world of perpetual night.
I have not lived for many years
I only exist - with many fears.
There is too much here
for one man to defend
I pray my time here
is at an end.

God forgive, my lonely soul.
Let me die and become whole.

Saturday, 17 May 2008


This next poem, was made because I, at heart am an old romantic. Very deeply buried, I grant you, but I am. Now, for any of you who know me, and the people I know, if I'm going to write a poem about relationships you really should be in one. But I'm not. So these thoughts are from a friend. So, this poem, is based upon his thoughts f her As a sidenote, the final line, with mention of the word princess is the nickname (That we know of.) that He gives to her. I hope they like it, and I hope they won't shoot me for it. Pray, rather. Enjoy.

We all have a soul,
that's split in two
I found my other half,
I found it in you;
For when I see you, sweetheart
Your eyes light up the night
I couldn't bare to be apart
For, my love, you are my light.

I wait to hear your voice,
Charming birds off of the trees
For when I hear that gentle lull,
I will fall to my knees.
Life without you, honey,
would be utter hell.
You make my world sunny
You are my angel.

I will hold you in my arms,
Until the world ends.
They tell us we're lucky,
our wonderful friends.
You're beauty magnificent,
Reigning supreme.
Every word written here, meant.
You are my dream.

You bring me such joy,
From the bottom of my heart.
I will embrace each moment
Until we must part.
You are my soulmate.
Words I cannot express
You are my fate,
You are my princess.

Friday, 16 May 2008


I've decided, that since I constantly send sonnet's your way, and you've been kind enough to read them, I should try to explain them. That way if any of you have to write sonnets (And I know some of you already have.) then you a reference point. I won't go into the history of sonnet's since I'm pretty sure none of you want that. So to get straight into the basics of it there are two forms of sonnet. An Italian sonnet, and a Shakespearean sonnet. However, both forms of sonnet share similiar things. Both, consist of 14 lines. Generally, the first eight lines set up a problem, that is resolved in the final 6 lines, although that is not always necessary. However, that is where the similarities end.

Shakespearean sonnet appears as one full 16 line stanza (verse). However, the Italian sonnet consists of 2 sections - the octave (8 lines.) and the setset (6 lines.) The Shakespearean sonnet also has a different rhyming structure to the Italian version. The Shakespearean rhyming structure is: a-b-a-b-c-d-c-d-e-f-e-f-g-g. Each letter, rhymes with itself. Therefore the first line rhymes with the third as both are A, the second and the fourth rhyme as they are both B as so on and so on. the Italian sonnet, the rhyming structure is different. it follows the pattern a-b-b-a-a-b-b-a and then the setset can have three different rhyming endings: c-d-e-c-d-e or c-d-c-c-d-c or c-d-c-d-c-d.

The other thing, that is crucially important to composing a sonnet, and the reason why it is difficult to write one is the syllable count. Each line must be made up of only ten syllables. In each sonnet, it is understood, that the poet may use eleven syllables in one line only. Therefore a line such as:

God has abandoned us to this dark black, is correct as there is 10 syllables.

God has abandoned us to this hated black, is correct, if used only once, because there is 11 syllables.

God has abandoned us to this dark, is wrong because there is 9 syllables.

God has abandoned us to this pitch dark night time is wrong because there is 12 syllables.

You'll notice, my sonnets are a mix of the two, with the rhyming structure of the Shakespearean sonnet and the length of stanzas from the Italian sonnet. So, if you follow this, you should be able to create a sonnet, with ease. Or as easily as is possible at least. If you take a look back over my other sonnets you'll notice that they follow this always. Thanks for reading this. I know it's a long and probably boring read, but I think it's good to share something you know with other people.
If you feel the urge to write a sonnet then write it, and send it to me. I love to read other people's poetry!
Anyway, thanks for reading.

Thursday, 15 May 2008

Nemo's Lament

Before I even start I must thank one person, and I think it would be better if I thank her by her real name. So thanks Rowena. She's an amazing person, and after talking to her for just two hours, I knew I had to write this. Any of you who have kept up to date with my posts will recognize this as another sonnet. But, as usual to tell of some background information. Firstly, nemo is Latin, translating as no-one. (If any of you have spoke to Rolo, you'll know that is the furthest thing from the truth.) Secondly, she's suffered a lot of hardship, and she's came through it as a better and stronger person. Thirdly, and I do not hesitate to tell you this, Rowena is one of the special people in the world. She looks at people's problems, and will always do her best to help them. People like her, are few and far between. But, her gift (or curse) was neglected. People were happy for her to help, but we're ridiculous enough not to realise how special she was. I won't say this poem reflects the way she felt, because I don't know if it was. I do know however, that her story, is the basis of this poem. I'll ask you all to enjoy, . But I ask her, to like it, most of all. Without her it wouldn't have existed. Enjoy.

Taunts are but salt in the wound, cutting flesh.
I am a servant, nameless, to many
I heal your hurts - mine are bitterly fresh.
I am your saver; don't glance, throw a penny.
We are a breed whom are rare to this earth
Yet you will torture and play with the flame.
Fires can burn - known by a child since birth.
All that I ask is you give me name.

I ache as a being, brought up apart.
I feel sheer longing in every bone,
Is there no title that you would impart?
Then I'll make choices, a name of my own.
I was no one with nowhere to go
But I am no-one, for I am Nemo.

Wednesday, 14 May 2008

Do Not

This poem is one that I will admit, I'm not particularly fond of, mainly because it brings back memories that I'd rather forget. However, it is still my work, and I promised to bring you my work so here it is. The background of this info, is based around a grievance I had with someone. They promised me something, and then in a matter of minutes went back on their word. When I got home this was the end result. It's only a few lines, nothing compared to what I usually write but it's still a part of me. Enjoy.

Do not speak to me of promises,
Of vows that once were made.

Do not speak to me of friendships,

Since you've made this vile trade.

Do not speak to me of love,

When you have none in your soul.

Well, I hope you're happy

Now you've reached your shameless goal.

Tuesday, 13 May 2008

A Note

I'll try not to take up to much of your time in this post, but I'm not making any promises. To all of you who have been reading along so far, thank you so much. It means a lot, believe it or not. And sorry for blabbering on, at the beginning, but I think it's better to understand something before you it. Anyway, I digress from my point, as usual. That is the last of the poetry I can find that I have written. There will probably be millions more, but I can't find them. Therefore (Lovely word, therefore.) my posts may get more erratic (Again, lovely word.) from this point forward. I shall do what I can to post daily once more, but there is no promises. To be philosophical, (Another pastime of mines, which you'll see if you care to read my profile.) from here we venture into waters unknown, where the sun may not shine through, nor the birds voices call. But, in the end, we shall climb out of the water, and once more step into the sunshine. So my friends, keep checking, and I'll keep posting. In all honesty, I may start posting some poetry info, possibly even some stories, but I'll wait and see what you all want. before I do. After all, I wouldn't enjoy this as much if it wasn't for all of you. So thanks. So much.