The Track

•June 18, 2015 • Leave a Comment

I was writing a story, took a break from it and I really couldn’t work out where it was going once I came back to it. This is my frustration.

The track has gone black
I can only look back
The yarn was dropped
The way is blocked
I can only turn back

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse.

The Creation of Beauty

•June 16, 2015 • Leave a Comment

After all these years of scribbling words I still don’t know the first thing about poetry. All it takes is just one moment in time though.

A momentary ray of the sun
Reminds me of the fun
Of capturing a word or thought
Ignoring everything we’re taught
The creation of beauty
Is still so new to me

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse

To Be Free

•June 11, 2015 • Leave a Comment

If you didn’t know, Blake is one of my favourite poets. This draws a bit of inspiration from him.

To capture time’s firm hand
In a single grain of sand
To watch it flowing past
In the river deep and fast
To glance death creeping near
In a moment free of fear
To simply stand and be
Says that truly you are free.

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse.

Child Of Winter

•June 9, 2015 • Leave a Comment

For hope, as false as it sounds it’s true (trust me)

Poor child of winter
On the longest night of your life
You find solace in the slashing rain
You think the sun will never shine again
But you are wrong
The dawn will follow the night
The sun will rise again
The shortest day is still a day
It may not b the brightest
But it is still a day
And day by day it will get brighter
Warmer
Longer
Stronger
Sure there will be showers
Overcast days and foggy nights
When everything seems worse than ever
There always is in spring
But summer is coming
Just hold on till then.

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse.

One Year, Seven Months, Three Weeks, Four Days

•June 4, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Since I got better. (Although it is now closer to two years)

One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
Since the wings of death flew past me
But a breath away
One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
Since all hell ran away from me
One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
Since God hugged me
One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
Longer alive that I planned on
And I’m sat here with a blade
A blade I once tried to make
Bring red tears from my so worn flesh
A blade that should have been razor sharp
But wasn’t
A blade I blamed a friend for blunting
Though they have always denied it
A blade that, to this day, if far more blunt
Than it has any right to be
One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
Since I was going to kill myself
Longer since I cut myself
Longer since the blade was dull
One year, seven months, three weeks, four days
Isn’t life beautiful.

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse

Literary Anarchy

•June 2, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Because that is all poetry is.

Writing with broken rules
New rules to replace the old
if you can be bothered with them
that is all poetry is
ignoring that everything should be “just so”
or the accepted just so at least
recognising tat thoughts don’t fall clearly
just like speech
and yet people find beauty
in this literary anarchy
so screw the rules

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse.

How Stupid is This

•May 28, 2015 • Leave a Comment

As I said last time, there’s a fair few of poems of complaining about lack of inspiration. This one harks back to darker times for me.

How stupid is this
ink used to flow from my pen
blood from a wound
back when red was such a familiar colour
now my pen seems to have scabbed up
healed over
just like the other wounds
but poetry was never about that
it was fun
in a world of pain
I don’t want to loose that fun
Though I WONT go back for it.

Hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment.
The Lonely Recluse