Tag Archives: Reflective poetry

Poetry

August Poetry: Primrose Hill

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The city lay in front of everyone, 
a model village to them, 
they had never felt so big. 
A city that once swallowed them up 
with its’ big skyscrapers and wall art 
now seemed all so small. 

“London eye, London eye” 
a little child called out. 
A large spinning wheel now 
fit between his two fingers. 
He tried pinching it, but it wouldn’t seem to 
move. 
A panorama of symbols 
filled the landscape, 
from edge to edge 
a focus point merely blurring them out. 
They would never disappear. 

Sprawled out before them, 
an extravagant banquet. 
A feast fit for royalty. 
often gobbled up by 
those who sat 
in quiet halls 
in which ceilings remained 
inexplicably high 
along with their standards of life. 

There stood as many cranes as there were 
high-rises. 
A future that pointed towards 
the sky, 
hinting at growth, 
but only in the literal sense. 
What was the cost? 
Soon the skyline would be full 
each building bigger than the other, 
a concrete competition. 

Yet, 
the people wouldn’t change, 
staying as they had been, 
even shrinking. 
An earth that could no longer feed them 
through the greed of those sat in their vast spaces. 
They would carry on starving 
as the towers 
would gorge themselves on 
the sun that reigned above them, 
casting a shadow amongst those 
that built them, 
that birthed 
these monstrous 
Giants of the sky.
Poetry

August Poetry: Brazil, Books, Beaches

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I dream of Brazil,
I dream of listening to bosa nova 
music in a café whilst eating my breakfast.
I lift up a cup of warm coffee,
a taste unfamiliar to me more than 
a few months ago but one that 
now greets my lips like an old friend.
The novel I’m reading is 
sat on the table,
much like I’m sat next to it,
resting yet again until
I breathe life into it
or more so,
until it breathes life into me.
My pulse tempers as I
flick through the pages,
my mind anywhere but here,
any time but now.
I place the book down,
pausing to stare at the 
frolicking waves to my side.
Out there,
	there is nothing for miles,
	no land for mankind.
	Good, 
keep it that way.
Leave the fish to swim,
	whilst I finish this cup of coffee.
Poetry

August Poetry: Brazil is Blue

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The skies seemed 
	more blue 
in Brazil. 
The birds seemed 
	more flighty. 
Unwilling to land 
or even comprehend 
the idea of closing 
	their wings. 
To do so would be unjust. 
To do so would mean that 
	they were no longer 
	souring. 
A part of the clouds 
Overhead and the 
	Fish that naively 
		swam below. 
So many of the two legged beings 
	seemed happy. 
	static on the hot sand 
that stopped the Sea in its footsteps. 
	To them being still was 
	part of life. 
a life they so often didn’t question. 
So few knew what it meant to Soar. 
	so few cared to find out. 
They left the flying to the birds 
and the dying to themselves. 
	The skies seemed 
	more blue 
	in Brazil, 
but the people died all the same.
Poetry

July Poetry: a misplaced sofa

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All her life 
	she felt 
	like she was abstaining from 
	something.
the adult magazine 
	that stood
	readily available at
her local supermarket
had almost guaranteed her 
moralistic downfall.
She was young,
	too young,
	but she remembered how 
	she’d felt.
Perhaps she would have forgotten
had it not been for her 
parents shouting,
cold brother,
constant slamming doors.
Every day there seemed to 
be a ‘who could be the loudest’
contest at her
	house.
it was too disorderly to be called 
	a home,
although it lay host to a whole
	heap of problems 
		that imbedded 
	themselves in 
the purple dining room walls
and tht horrible 
green sofa that 
her grandma had 
left behind.
It seemed so out
	of place in the context
	that surrounded 
it
but still she felt 
like the sofa 
had more of a place 
in the mother’s heart 
than she ever could.
Perhaps that’s why she 
never took to it
like a new born baby
sucks all the attention
away from the older 
sibling.
It wasn’t even comfortable,
that was the worst part.
Poetry

Throwback Poem: Walking [06.21]

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Today I enjoyed walking 
The slowness of it 
Giving me time I needed 
Even wanted.
The surroundings help 
People walking by help 
Not literally 
But like characters in a movie 
Other stories in motion 
Most likely never engaging with one another 
At least not in my case. 
I don't mind,
I make friends with the buildings I pass
And the song in my head. 
They're company enough.
Poetry

July Poetry: why passion?

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why do I get teary when I eat good food?
why do I get emotional when I hear a wonderful piece of music?
why do I get overwhelmed when I see something beautiful take place on the screen before me?
passion.
simply put, passion.
that glimpse into someone’s soul.
a snapshot of their most
ideal self.
their best creation.
where body, mind and countless of hours honing in that skill comes into
play.
into fruition.
it lays before you in whatever form
it belongs to.
it says 
“here I am”
“this is me”
all at once 
in a nicely packaged,
consumable form.
if the person on the receiving end
has the capacity to admire the beauty that lays before them,
then that results in something
equally as profound.
acknowledgement.
a response
“I see you”
we say back.
not directly.
more often than not, 
through a lack of words.
	              sometimes we miss this.
    we walk past it.
a man playing a violin in the underground,
we catch the distinct smell of an extravagant dish,
we aren’t present enough,
to acknowledge its beauty.
and that’s okay.
the world is full of missed opportunities,
just make sure that when you 
feel it,
that overwhelming,
profound beauty,
just sit with it.
let it stir inside of you,
let it draw out any emotions that
it so chooses.
          surrender to it.
                     or choose a life without it.

Check out my last poem here!

Poetry

June Poetry: An Upset Uber Ride

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I cried in an Uber once.
It seems silly thinking about it now. 
To be honest it was years ago.
I probably wouldn’t do the same anymore 
Or so I’d like to think.
Why didn’t I just walk home?
It would have taken about an hour,
roaming the streets of Bristol
In the dark didn’t usually scare me.
Why the quick journey home?
Subconciously my mind was looking out
for me I suppose,
street lights and emotional instability
aren’t often the best of combinations, 
unlike a glass of lemonade on a 
hot summer’s day.
Maybe a glass of lemonade would have 
solved all my problems?
They do say ‘when life gives you lemons …’
Nonetheless I ended up in a strangers car,
One I pair for funnily enough.
He noticed I was leaking water from my eyes,
‘Everything okay?’ he asked softly.
‘Not exactly’ I replied.
‘Don’t worry, everything will be alright’
A slight chuckle finishing off his sentence.
I always remembered this moment,
Almost three years later.
That is the most vivid memory of that night.
It is almost as if he’d seen this 
exact thing before,
whether or not he,
the uber driver
had lived this feeling out himself
or that he had been through 
the same experience with this previous 
customer.
Or perhaps he only picked up those 
who needed consoling?
I wouldn’t have been surprised,
not only was his driving smooth
but so was his demeanor.
I remember getting out the car,
feeling cured,
less leaky from the eyes 
and more present in the moment.
The confined space of the car 
forced our two opposing
energies to balance out.
		I can’t remember his name,
I wish I could.
Whoever you are I’d like to thank you.
To tell you that what you said was true,
Everything will be alright.
So the next time,
(if there is a next time),
I’m crying in an uber,
I will say those very words
to my future self.
A self that once again has forgotten
how	alright everything is.

Check out my last poem here!

Poetry

June Poetry: a gust of thought

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Fleeting,
often times my creativity
is there one second 
and gone 
the next.
You follow the fluttering wings 
of a butterfly 
and try to capture it 
in your small, youthful hands 
only to open them and find
it’s not there.
Did it ever exist?
The question floats off
much like the butterfly.
If it was even real.
You stick your tongue out
pulling your waterproof hood back
as you do so,
finding a lack of water droplets 
available to bounce off the 
edges of your lips,
opening your eyes you see the 
sun shining bright unlike it
was just a minute ago.
	These quick changes of state 
happen all the time,
forever around you.
Who are you to criticize 
the direction of the wind?
merely adapt,
embrace this change of direction 
and of thought
or cease to exist
in a world full of
life
and 
creativity. 
With each face of the mind,
make sure you look it in the eye,
no matter how quick its glance.

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Poetry

June Poetry: The Fearful City

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The City seems to drag me down,
it’s grey and big,
and leaves me with a frown.
I try and smile,
for those around,
but that just drives me,
towards a sound,
a noise that I can seem to hear,
a noise to make me disappear,
into a background where the rest dare follow,
because no one likes to be swallowed. 
They walk in Suits and all,
hoping they too don’t fall,
for the City is not too kind to those,
who are so rude and turn up their nose,
they are so brash and some even daunting,
unlike the shade of red who seems to be flaunting,
her God-given right to look cool and suave, 
She sticks to her own lane,
And paves her path,
for the City cannot reach certain ones,
who know their own worth,
who stick to their own guns,
so keep your head up and look onwards,
as the city can see those who look downwards,
you’ve been here a while,
you do belong,
the city is listening,
so sing out your song.

Check out my last poem here

Poetry

May Poetry: Emerald green Eyes

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Ecstatic,
an emerald green,
shone so bright,
but your vision remained 
unimpaired.

	A soft white
noise
	echoed in the dark
so unheard
	that 
desperate for some recognition,
decided to do the most 
monstrous things.

A creature
still and breathing
eyes fixed 
on a spot behind 
so looking through you,
it ignored all the 
pain and
	red flesh
that bridged the gap
between it and its target.
	
A smile crawled up onto your face
unworried by the danger ahead.
Too many scars had 
	left you numb
to the lifeless eyes 
that had looked through you all your life.