Poetry is my way of dealing with this crazy world. Some of it is about me and my life, most of my poetry is written through the dirty panes of my filters.
I see a story, a snippet from someone else’s life and I write about it.
If you enjoy poetry, poetry of all types, genres and styles, move over to this site….Whole Life Poetry.
INSIDE MY HEAD
The thunder rages, bruising my spirit with torments and insults and cruel truths
Lightning strikes fear deep deep into my core, paralysing my very breath.
Storm clouds block hope;
Torrential rain floods my soul and I drown amidst the tempest of thoughts
Inside my head.
Yet sometimes there is summer evening peace,
Blackbird song trilling doubts away. Gentle day’s end soothes my spirit into carefree slumber,
All is calm and warm, safe
Inside my head.
And sometimes a mist of insidious paranoia cloaks the sun,
Unseen mouths criticise every move,
Twitching curtains watch and judge and tell-
And “they” spread every thought to the world-
Inside my head.
And sometimes I dream of you-
Perfect love whilst the world goes by,
Soul touching soul,
Heart holding onto heart.
Body- ah your body! With mine.
Yet the dream can hurt like a nightmare, as it is all just
Inside my head.
CINDERELLA
The midnight bell tolled-
Each strike a death knell to the day,
Yet soon a vaguely recounted memory as the next took its place.
Then just as it seemed that the sound would vibrate forever… nothing followed.
The last chime hung expectantly in the air, then faded-
The midnight bell tolled no more.
And as its mournful tone died away to be forgotten into yesterday,
She realised that she had missed the ball,
Her thoughts had remained stuck on the mundane,
Never looking beyond her self-imposed cage.
And she had not seen her fairy Godmother waiting at the spotless sill tapping at the glass.
Not now for her a dance with a Prince,
Nor even a dalliance with a lesser dignitary,
For the music had stopped, the glitter had faded- only the un-chipped slippers still sparkled,
All else was silent and dark.
Waking the next morning, she gave a cry of despair and ran from the house-
Who had left finger prints on her precious glass?
Bemoaning her fate to live amongst fools,
She wiped the last remnants of hope from her life.
