Poem: Regrets

We all have things we should have done.
An ever increasing list of things that will last.
Coloured ink on white paper tell us all,
The jobs for us to do from the past.

Darkness. Nothingness.

There will be many deaths to loved ones in our lives.
Many departures from this oh so sacred world of ours.
Words thought, but never said for fear of the unknown,
After death will haunt us for many weeks days and hours.

Darkness. Nothingness.

Life is full of regrets.
Things we did, or didn’t do.
If only, if only, if only,
We had that moment in life once more, just one more try,
I’m sure we’ll get it right this time.

Each moment in our short lives is unique,
Yet each affects many others,
One go is all we get,
A single try. A solitary chance. If we fail, then that’s it.
No second chances, not until after the Darkness and Nothingness.

Darkness. Nothingness.

So final, yet so endless. The very understanding of it is incomprehensible.
The very nature of it is unreal, and the very question of it is unanswered.
No regrets, no life, no anything. It just is.

Poem: One Day

One day all this will be gone.

Our every whim uncatered for, until the end of time.
But what of now?
What can we do this very instant that would envelop the senses of the future,
And allow us a glimpse of our unfortunate demise?

Maybe we should build a time machine, travel forward an era or two,
Show ourselves the “meaningless of life.”
Maybe we could search for someone who has travelled back from the future.
They might have come back to see how life once was, innocent, unwary, and pathetic.

Why carry on something that will only end in failure?
What can we seriously hope to achieve in this, the futile glory of the grand scheme?
Stabbing ourselves in the back is how one could see it.
An arrow, fired by our bow of technological advancement, piercing our lungs of reason,
Halting the calls for a logical outlook.

So as I said, one day all this will be gone.

Poem: Ode To Kristen

Your name is Kristen, and you live in Bermuda
The only word that kinda rhymes is barracuda.
You sit in the sun, drinking anything cold,
It’s not liquor cos ya sixteen years old.

Ya chat on the ’net talking to all the ickle peeps,
They tell you all their secrets, and you have them for keeps.
Ya do ya little website, with all the fairy things,
It changes every week, with what your mood brings.

Ya don’t go to school nearly every other day,
So ya can stay at home, with the Internet and play.
Ya change ya name from Skylar, through nightmare and Rain,
There’s so many of you it hurts my little brain.

The moral of this poem should you want to know,
Is listen to your friends if you’re feeling low.
We are here to help, and guide you if we can,
Sorting out your problems, usually about a man!

Poem: Moments

The sun rises up, we both lie awake,
We open our eyes, to see the lake,
Down by the shore, the water laps,
Between the stones, into the gaps.

We rise from our beds, a little sore,
The earth beneath us, is soft no more,
We stretch out our limbs, and look around,
The frost has arrived, and covered the ground.

I look at you, you look at me,
We stare intently, and what do we see?
A vision of beauty, a vision of life,
Is there a reason, for holding this knife?

It glints in the sun, its power embraced,
The moment now, is the worse that we’ve faced,
Who will move first? What will they do?
We both try to guess, neither has a clue.

We both look up, a sound from above,
There in the distance, a brilliant white dove,
The moment is forgotton, the truth untold,
The moral of this story, to you I behold.

I’ll let you know now, for your own piece of mind,
Troubles lie ahead, for the rest of Mankind,
Problems we solve, may yet reappear,
Solutions should be found, and then made clear.

Moments in history, have helped us today,
The answers they found, have shown us the way,
Let it not be, as your moments unfold,
Have riddles perfected, but left untold.

You’ve searched this story, you’ve sought in vain,
You’ve read the script, you’re going insane,
Life is a story, what does it say?
Moments change quickly, as time slips away.

Poem: My Everlasting Memory

I lost a loved one almost ten years to the day.
I remember some of the memories, others have faded away.
What tears me up the most, and to you maybe the same,
Is that never again will we here, that treasured voice again.

It was my Grandfather who left us, I remember the day I was told.
I was sitting at home, with my mum, I was only nine years old.
Now something like that for a nine year old, is such a weird thing,
You know that something is wrong, because everyone around you is crying.

It wasn’t like that for me though, I had only my mum for support,
It didn’t sink in at first, but later when the evening came, she appeared very distraught,
She told me straight and didn’t hold back, and gave me a hug to ease our pains,
I cried like I had never cried before, aching inside, becoming a man in one day.

I was allowed to the funeral, for which now I shall always be grateful,
And it was there that I knew I was a child, for when it came to say the Lords prayer,
I spoke no words. I said my own words of love, to the man I take after,
As his coffin was taken away to a place behind the curtain,
I tried to help my mother and her mother, and those who were there that day,
But inside, at that moment I was being torn up.
Perhaps I was too young to understand what was going on, though I believe I wasn’t,
Maybe the hurt and discomfort passed over my little body, not ready to set down,
Could it be that I felt my Grandfathers death as a child or an adult? Who knows?
All I can say is that, for a nine year old,
I have experienced something that will last a lifetime.

Poem: Lies

As the snow fell in the trenches,
It covered the remains of dead heroes.
Peacefully silent unlike the past few days
The snow engulfed our reminiscences
Of warm log fires.

Memories shattered by mortars,
Landing only yards away.
We ran for cover,
And waited endlessly.

Upon returning,
We saw that our hopes of freedom,
Had eradicated from view.
The truth was sinking in.

We were given the order to charge.
People dropping like flies.
Is this the way to spend Christmas,
Surrounded by lies?

Poem: Finding My Mind

My mind, my mind, my mind.
Who knows what they’ll find in my mind.
Maybe they’ll find a mouse, a louse, a house, a house that is a home.
A home with a gnome, a dome, some foam.
Some fizzy foam, some dizzy foam, some izzy wizzy lets get busy foam.
But who will make it? Who will take it, bake it, wake it?
Wake up, don’t sleep or dream.
The dream of cream in a stream with bream.
Bream, a fish, a British fish in a dish.
The dish of life, with a wife, strife, a knife.
A sharp knife to cut, a rut through a gut, in a hut.
A hut on a beach, with sand, band, a man who’s tanned.
Tanned by the sun, fun, a loaded gun.
A gun, take aim, fire, acquire respire, no wait, he’s a liar.
It’s a blank, the bank, hit by a tank. A TANK!
The big green mean machine.
Drives down the road, it’s load, with a code, that’s jumbled, mumbled, a humbled child,
Who’s wild, mild, filed away in a drawer, a store, a law about a door.
A door to the world, that curled around a sound, bound, mound, what have I found?
An answer I yearn, learn, burn, turn in my grave, cave, wave must behave,
For I have sinned, binned, tinned, walked in the wind.
Wind or wind, help I’m blind, kind, must find my mind.

Poem: Fear Knocked At My Door

Fear knocked at my door, I answered with temptation,
I screamed for forgiveness, but all was for damnation.

Love knocked at my door, I answered with respect,
I dreamed of untold pleasures, I had none to collect.

Envy knocked at my door, I answered with compassion,
I thought of those other kids, who had the latest fashion.

Hope knocked on my door, I answered with contempt,
I wondered why always, I looked for all and wept.

Let not the Fear or Love, Envy or Hope,
Allow us to decide, who has the right,
To plan our futures before us with freedom,
And take from the world of our internal light.

Poem: Emotions

The possibilities are endless,
The choices, immense,
The limitations few and far between,
The decision, intense.

One small idea can affect the life,
Of many a great man and his wife,
His children, pets, imaginary friends,
Opportunities arise to make amends.

The words we speak, the way we look,
The intonation when we read a book,
A raised eyebrow of humorous intent,
A wry smile of a joke that’s spent.

Emotions rule our every desire, and desires rule our views.
We hope for what we believe in, and trust we won’t lose.
Should we drink to our future, or drown our sorrows?
What will the world hold, in all our tomorrows?

The possibilities are endless.

Poem: Denial

I wake up and smile,
Without the denial,
That my life is a mess,
Bogged down with the stress.

I get out of bed,
The first thoughts in my head,
Are to go back to sleep,
And to cry or to weep.

I put on some clothes,
Though nobody knows,
The reason for life,
Not even my wife.

I go downstairs,
Without any cares,
About the day to come,
Without any fun.

I drink my tea,
And think about me,
Or what I could say,
To clear the troubles away.

I go out the door,
To face my war,
My head in a spin,
About a fight I can’t win.

I get in my car,
But I don’t travel far.
I turn back for home,
With my thoughts condoned.

I pull on the drive.
I’ve yet to arrive,
At the happy place.
I’m not in the race.

I go back inside,
Where I know I can hide,
From the lonely thoughts,
With which I’ve caught.

I return to bed,
And with all I’ve said,
I wake up and smile,
Without the denial.