Fishbowl
not that anyone cares,
All I will get is a few none stop glares.
Ann stopped speaking as her eyes filled with tears.
Who would have thought she would be living life in a turtle shell.
Hiding away, waiting for the metallic smell.
It turns out that foster care is not so caring,
Walking home in fear with a vision quite blurring.
Asking herself, is this life, or is this hell?
Is there a difference? She couldn't tell.
Her days were spent screaming, but with a silent voice.
At school she sat alone, but it wasn't a choice.
At home a single meal and a bashing was all she received,
Hunting for the escape rope, but ending on her knees.
Small birds can't fly
Exhaustion executed the heavy wings Ann carried,
Most her age dreamed of shoes and getting married,
But a dove can't take off when its head is buried.
A nest of two twigs and a worm? No wonder she's varied.
One night moonlight shined through her bedroom window.
Her eyes sparkled looking down at the beautiful city,
Finally she would be able to live a life not so gritty,
Never before had she felt so pretty.
Ann stepped on the edge of the ledge as it began to snow,
The sound of life below covered the wounds from the knife she would no longer know.
The wintery breeze christened her face and left her long silk hair untied,
Her arms then spread wide as she took a deep breath and assumed she could glide,
But as we say good bye,
We all know,
Small birds can't fly.
Thrasonical
At winter's bay I stroll by the docks,
crystals of snow lay on the wet planks,
christened by the chilled wind,
the haze cries cold on my cheeks.
Welcomed into a store of fisherman's raw,
offered many dead swimmers though most I ignore,
but a dusty old book rays my keen eye,
the title 'a man who's rod was never dry'
I open this compelling sailor’s chronicle,
soon to discover an artist in fishing he was,
though the image given is very thrasonical,
this is because he is often to say,
'I am the best, i am the best,
I must smell of fish food spray'
I learned too much boasting soon cleared his dish,
as his cause of death states,
'eaten by fish'
White Night
Knight
Smite
Quite
Fright
Please don't harm thee.
Bright
White
Night
Light
Thanks for setting me free.
Art Movement
Brush strokes burn the precious painting,
Some still find the outcome entertaining,
The artist can't move.
The pencil led has collapsed inside,
Her gentle wrists are now untied,
The artist can't move.
She has used her last oil pastel,
She has drained her final blood cell,
The artist can't move.
No Longer Earthworms
Before us,
An earthworm could take down a stegosaurus.
But now an antelope cries before the size of an ant,
And rain drops are the arch rival of a plant.
A gorilla is judged by the amount of fur on its back,
Lions are considered weak if they refuse to attack.
The beauty of a fish is drawn by the texture of its scales,
Gilled humans treat shark through the abilities of whales.
An eagle’s strength to fly is highlighted by the size of its beak,
And what good is a mole if there are no eyes to seek.
Camels dress up as grains of sand just to avoid raw meat,
A hedgehog belongs in the Arctic if it can't handle the heat.
The knowledge of an owl depends on the size of its eyes,
Elephants can't jump so we will never reach the skies.
Before you laugh at penguins, birds that can't fly.
Take a look at yourself and ask, who am I?
Earth to Stars
It's incredible how we are,
Crumbs in-comparison to the Milky Way,
The inventors of day and discoverers of clay.
It's incredible how we are,
Able to see beyond the moon up above,
Send one into space with the love of a dove.
It's incredible how we are,
So brainless to what flies beyond the sky,
Yet we can see many stars with a single eye.
It's incredible how we are,
A little big but growing so small,
With brains of an ant that knows it all.
Frosted Earth
Sitting outside an asylum with my brain turned on,
White men in black threads build a lake of logs.
Psychotic people around me keep the fire strong,
Acting for a paycheck like a bunch of lab frogs.
Visit the tadpoles where the pound has frozen over,
Diseased possum with a mind so soft.
All decisions are made by the four leaf clover,
Acting like a wasp webbed in a loft.
Humans influenced by cheats in cheap suits,
Energy flows through a lab of gibberish.
Youth organized by gang signs and cheap zoots.
Dismissing the thought of a flying fish.
Bitter sweet vermin praying on a Sunday,
Joey decides to avoid the academic zoo.
Unconscious awareness sinning on a Monday,
Now Joey has a Joey but doesn't have a clue.
Some bypass meat but keep ice caps melting,
Adolescent spill blood over their ink.
Why pick up a sword when you reject smelting,
Boats fill with sand and begin to sink.
Puppets on strings from the moment of birth,
Frozen, within a Frosted Earth.
Poppies
Poppies buried with,
The deceased we remember.
No white flags remain.
Coloured Family
Sister of red
Brother of blue
Settled in bed
Looking for a clue
Father of green
Mother of yellow
Keeping home clean
To keep one mellow
Aunt of black
Uncle of grey
Holding up a sack
Until the end of day
Grandpa of pink
Grandma of purple
Cleaning the sink
Suitable for a turtle
Niece of silver
Nephew of gold
Unable to rhyme
No longer bold
Train Rails
The train rails break up.
The engine has flown away,
Into the gray clouds.
When Autumn Comes
The leaves on a branch fall when autumn comes,
But the roots of the tree continue to grow.
The happiest people seem to live in the slums,
Whereas the better off care too much for dough.
A man with no arms will attempt to play the drums,
But a healthy being will complain about the snow.
An educated horde will sit and twiddle their thumbs,
Whilst the unschooled pick up a stone and throw.
Hour Glass
On Monday I turned an hour glass upside down,
On Tuesday I sailed
to the south west of Japan,
Wednesday came and I was exploring a new town,
By Thursday I had learned about the Quran,
Friday introduced winter so I sat with a frown.
On Saturday my son started crawling,
On Sunday the sand was still falling.
Fishing
One morning I went fishing
The sun sparked against the waves
Why
Why did I go fishing
I wonder
Phoenix Hill
Beyond the towns of wood and cities of green
Lay the most beautiful hill one has ever seen
You can see it miles into the empty night
The hill is a most magnificent sight
Beyond the castles of darkness and evil
Beyond the human cries and upheaval
Beyond the dragons that are judgmental
Sit a hill near a lake so gentle
You can see the warming glow from space
It fills the aliens and astronauts with grace
You can feel the warming glow in your heart
The smile across your face will never come apart
Approaching the hill you will see the orange air
An atmosphere so charming will fill you with care
The golden phoenix will rise and greet you with a smile
Reminding you that even a burnt out life is worthwhile
When her wings rise she fills the world with adore
So soft even the prisons and buried cannot ignore
The phoenix knows life can crumble with a touch
Yet our whole existence is attempting to clutch
When the lights are dim and worlds stand still
Remember, phoenix hill
Cinnamon Cinquain
Tree bark
Ground to powder
Added to a sea bass
Such a warming sweet spice delight
Burnt tongue
Misshapen Misshapes
Misshapen misshapes.
The water is straight but I’m wavy.
No one is in,
the sorceress grin,
she unravels her tongue on my gravy.
Misshapen misshapes.
The shepherd in the room is crazy.
The goats and sheep stare,
the lamb is a square,
the elephant in the room says he’s lazy.
Misshapen Misshapes.
The shapes are misshaped,
my brain is a puzzle,
I grab it and nuzzle,
The magician inside has escaped.
Floating through void
. . .
Ever since my days at school I have felt somewhat disconnected from people, my friendships never seemed to last and I spent my time outside of school being alone. To this day it still applies, but I have decided that I like life this way. I’m not completely alone, I have a wonderful future wife and a very supportive family, but there has always been something that seemed off towards my connection with others.
‘An Owl & Four Trees’ is an epic poem that I wrote to reflect this feeling. From there I turned it into a small poetry collection, containing my thoughts on society,