Poem – My Red Mustang

Counting the pennies, I just helped rescue from the jar. It won’t be too long, Till they’re exchanged for a car.   A red shiny mustang, With matching interior. With a waxwork shine so dazzling. Making all other dull cars look inferior.   Counting the pennies in the jar. I won’t have to count for…

Poem: A December Day

December Day The air is crisp, cold and clean. My breath sparkles in its grasp like fairydust. I feel like a fairytale’s dragon.   The darkness cloaks the clouds, Choking out any lasting glimmers of light, As the sun sets low in the Winter sky.   The trees look fragile. Their vulnerability exposed, By the…

Poem: A Job Is A Job

Knees buckled beneath me. Feet gnarled, toes curled. The whole world’s up against me. Yet still I spin, I twirl.   Counting pennies until it defeats me. I’m sedated by my lost dreams. It seems the past always repeats me, A path of unraveling seams.   Whispered regrets always greet me. My childhood career was…

Poem: Christmas Food

Food. So bad, yet so good. So many colours, so many textures. So many food poisonings taken for the pleasure.   You gave me gout last Christmas Eve, But I don’t hold it against you, you see, For I know our relationship is solid. Once the doctor unclogs my arteries.   This Christmas things will…

Poem – Shy

I’m Shy. Is that ok? I know I should meet your eyes more than sometimes. But I don’t. Should I be ashamed?   I get nervous when around strangers. Find I become a stranger in myself. I feel paranoid of the dangers, That lurk just behind the shelf.   I’m angry for being this way….

The Poetry of War

Below are two poems I have written which I may enter into an upcoming competition The competition challenges the writer to explore the concept of national identity, by responding to how it is portrayed in the works of WWII Poets. I chose Timothy Corsellis’ poem – News Reel of Embarkation  The antagonism between fighting for…

Sigmund Freud – Pioneer or Provocateur?

The name ‘Sigmund Freud’ brings with it antagonistic thoughts in my mind, was he a sexist pig or pioneering psychoanalyst? I was going to enter a poetry competition recently about his findings on ‘civilisation and it discontents’. But something stopped me in my tracks. It was the opinions of others around me when I told…

Poem – Lost

Below is a poem I wrote in a state of confusion one evening. I was at a loss with what my purpose in life should be. Frustrated that I had so many thoughts in my mind  yet took so little action: Lost I feel lost, There’s a voice in my head that can never be…

2nd Place Poem – End Hunger UK – ‘A Closed Fist’

‘A Closed Fist’ –  a spin on the meaning to hurt someone. A closed fist can be a punch but it could also be inferred to as a hand that is not offering food and therefore hurting someone by starving them.

I wanted the poem to show how it’s essential to be kind to one another. Afterall you never know where someone might be in their life, or who they may become. And perhaps you may even find yourself needing their help oneday. The bigger picture is that we are humans we need food and we need to put ourselves in eachothers shoes more often, especially when it comes down to this essential element of life – to prevent starvation.