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Ok, so I'm not normally one to spruke myself but this is my way of seeing if I actually have anyone who reads and enjoys my work ...

If you're on twitter, you can also help me by using the following hashtags:
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I much appreciate your support and though I don't write to win accolades (just for my own enjoyment), the occassional virtual high-5 is nice.

March Poetry Challenge (16th March, 2013)

In Search of Happiness

In January I looked under the couch.

That’s usually where things end up
When I lose them or can’t find them
But it wasn’t anywhere under there.

In February I looked in the fridge.

Food has given me such comfort
Over the long and many years,
But comfort is not happiness.

In March I looked around the garden.

Though the flowers were pretty indeed
And the trees were stunningly magnificent
It wasn’t the feeling I was searching for.

In April I looked in the city.

With it’s high rise buildings and
Stark, modern landscape
It was nowhere to be found.

In May I looked in the country.

The rolling hills inspired me
While the fields nourished my soul
But still that happy feeling eluded me.

In June I looked to the heavens.

The sparkling stars shone down
And the moon glowed brightly
Yet it was not there at all.

In July I looked to the sky.

The suns warm rays filled me up
With good will to all mankind
Yet, not quite the happiness I sought.

In August I looked to the snow.

It’s intricate beauty mesmerising
And it’s touch so refreshing
But not that which I longed to find.

In September I looked towards the earth.

Life springing eternal in many forms
And renewing itself once more
Yet not a speck of happiness to keep.

In October I looked to the mystical.

No God nor spirit nor mythical beast
Could conjure up that feeling
Which was proving quite elusive.

In November I looked to family and friends.

Their love and companionship
Means more than anything to me
But that which I cannot find externally.

And then by chance one December day

I happened to catch a fleeting glimpse
Of something that had been with me always:
Happiness, in my constant beating heart.

March Poetry Challenge (15th March, 2013)

Room to Move

I feel so constricted here

Like the walls are closing in;
There’s precious little air here
And what there is tastes stale.

I need to stretch my wings

And fly free once more;
Free my mind of the shackles
That have held it for too long.

Give me the room to move,

To really expand my horizons;
To be confronted by the unknown
And not shy away from the fear.

March Poetry Challenge (14th March, 2013)

On Talent

Being talented is so much more

Than being good at something.
It’s being driven to succeed
By something deep inside your soul,
Having the courage of your own convictions
And the power of self belief.

With a little talent it’s easy to get by,

To float through life, not really trying
And expecting that everything will happen
Just the way it’s supposed to,
But when it doesn’t happen that way
The whole world collapses in on you.

With a lot of talent you can rule the world

But it won’t last as long as you think
Because there’s always someone
With more talent than you’ll ever have
Chasing you down and knocking you off
The pedestal you’ve built for yourself.

With a little talent and a lot of hard work

There is nothing that cannot be achieved
And no-one can tear you down
No matter how hard they try
Because talent is shallow and fleeting
But dedication breeds resilience.

March Poetry Challenge (13th March, 2013)

A Picture of You

I look at your picture sometimes

But not all the time.
It lives in a draw by my bed
And I take it out every now and then.

It shows the twinkle in your eye

Your beautiful blue eyes
That I always thought
Looked just like your sisters.

Your hair was darker than hers, though,

Much more like your fathers,
Well, before it started to turn grey,
And well before it began to fall out.

Sometimes, I open the draw,

Only peering in before I close it.
In those moments the pain is too raw
And I want to scream and cry.

Other times, I take it out,

Hold it close to my heart.
And remember the happy times
That I never wanted to end.

Your laugh made me laugh,

Your smile made me smile,
And the conversations we had
That no-one else would understand.

I’m holding your picture now

On what would have been your day –
The day you came into our lives
And filled it with the joy of a lifetime.

And though I may shed a tear,

Not the first nor the last,
You will forever be in my heart

And always be my baby girl.

March Poetry Challenge (12th March, 2013)

Beyond Tomorrow

I might wish on random days

To know what will come,
Not tomorrow but further,
On days more distant.
I could be happy in the knowledge
That my prince charming
Is out there somewhere
Just waiting to be found;
I could tremble at the thought
Of that fateful, yet inevitable, day
When I cease to draw the breath of life
And, instead, expire;
But what good is that awareness
When every action by myself
Or some friend, relative
Or random person never met
Can change the entire construct
Of my very existence
Making the understanding gained
Null and void and useless.

March Poetry Challenge (11th March, 2013)

Licence to Write

I remember that first day,
Feeling somehow more grown up,
That in the space of a day
I had aged exponentially.

I was putting away childish things,

Having to live with the mistakes I made,
Indelible and forever mine,
Scrawled by still small hands.

This was the day I was trusted

To hold my future in my hands,
To make my mark permanently
On a world that saw me as a child.

No longer at the mercy of broken pencils

And no longer forced to erase my errors;
I was now the proud and grown up owner
Of the most wonderful gift I had received.

In my hot little hand I held,

Ready to write the speaches and songs
That would move the world to tears,
The first of many pens I would own.

Whether the cheap and nasty variety

Or the expensive and carefully crafted,
Each would bear the expression
Of a mind finely tuned by experience.

Though the ink may occassionally run dry,

The imagination never would.
The scripts of a thousand days
Would ebb and flow in my viens;

Still, the writing would continue to flow,

Though I again would graduate
To a medium sometimes shallow and cold,
And I would never forget that old feeling …

Or that old friend of mine.