An Ocean of Thought

I keep getting swept away
by tides of thought
one tugging me one way
while another crashes 
making my head sway.


Thoughts and faces
wash across my mind
and for a second or two 
I forget where I am
totally absorbed,
the waves of my mind
keep flowing 
with no sign of showing
pause or rest 
so it's the least I can do
to close my eyes 
let the thoughts take control
and swim through this ride. 

A Moment Over a Picture

A camera tries to capture 
a moment in time
with technology and a click 
it's there in a photo
a solid memory,
I can hold it, it's mine. 


But here 
where I am now 
we don't take pictures 
posing with plastic smiles 
ready to be put straight on file.


We're just in the moment
soaking it up 
and I make a plea to my brain
that my eyes and a camera
could be the same 
so I can look back at this time
maybe not with clarity
but more of a blissful blur
because we were too busy having fun
to stamp our pictures to the world. 

Recording Eyes

I wish knit together 
all the views I see 
put them in to a film
so I can look back
at my whole life history. 


There would be blue skies 
and of course grey 
there would be every single one
of all of my holidays
there would be water 
in the lens at times 
for when I've gotten sad 
and there may be slight tremors
for those times when I've been mad.


But the most important thing
would be that is all there
I would have all my memories 
and watching them would be like
breathing in a second, filling, air.

Through the Forgetful Fog

Memories strain
against the brain 
trying to swipe through 
the forgetful fog 
straight past drinking 
something deeper instead 
I want to try and find my childhood
buried in my head 
strike the age of innocence 
and the ease of disbelief 
no conscious of self
bright colours and wonder 
at everything around 
and seeing everything as giants
with eyes so near the ground. 

Blossoming Smile

Smile flits across the face
a blossom petal in the spring 
not that lasting 
but appreciated and welcome 
while it does.


It barely begins to grow 
not really there to put on a show
for the camera 
or acknowledgement of others. 
a personal smile 
intended for the person alone
lost in their memories
and travelling  in their own world.  


But to everyone else 
they are just a stranger 
smiling to themselves 
and the smile fades 
as quickly as the blossom
blows away in a breeze.

Paradise of Dreams

Paradise in dreams
simple pleasure
while asleep  


But


Let the best of time
shine 
through life 
please
never let me forget 
to create memories 


In order so the
paradise of dreams 
doesn't become a want
of reality. 

Capture

All the poetry I hear or read is so beautiful and I can tell so much work has gone in to it. I feel like I'm what on doing on here can't even compare to it. I don't really have time to think the poems through as much as I'd like. And even these rushed ones mean I have less time to write or think of stories, which I kind of miss. I've got this far though, I'm going to continue, I'll try to make them better but it's difficult.

My pillow keeps my dreams

and is there to catch my screams.

My family holds on to me

and steady me on my feet. 

My camera takes a picture of a smile

but in the mean while

my friends can create one

and we can just have fun.

The grass can catch the rain

the bird can catch the worm

that right there

will be always be the same 

I'll to capture it all

and save it in my heart

so my memories and I

will never have to part.  

Memories

Memories fading
but please don't let me
forget them
all together 
let me store them
and re visit 
if I ever feel lost
don't let my mind
loose what was once 
treasured.


Please,
I'm begging
whoever is listening
let those photos 
of me smiling
trigger something
anything
rather than against
strike a blank canvas. 

The Shed Instead of a Tree House

No picture today - thought who ever reads this poem should come up with their own picture =]


Nostalgia hidden in a shed
where so many memories
forgotten
walk forward
announcing their presence.


Many an hour spent in here
with magazines
or a book
the time made clear
by a carpet
covering the floor
now out of place
muddy, overloaded
with gardening tools.


The shelf, which seemed so high
when sat under
now not so much
sunlight creeping through
the cracks in the wood.


Cobwebs crowded by the
windowpane
where once was a toy
where stars appeared on the cheeks
when wet,
everything may be gone
but I hope I don't forget.