My Own Story (The Last Poem)

So, this is it, the last poem of 2011. I'm sat here listening to The Kooks - Naive, which for some reason feels appropriate. As I said a month or so ago, I will be posting a proper conclusion on January 1st - without a poem - this is because I wrote an introduction saying what I would do this year, also without a poem. I thought this made it seem more full circle. 
And for those who think I've cheated and missed out on two poems, I posted two extra in November, just to be thorough.

I would love to be able to tell you that I have been thinking about this poem for months and have perfected what you're about to read. But I haven't. In fact, I'm still not too sure what I'm going to write about. 


Sad as it may make me appear, I actually feel a bit emotional that this is the last one. I'll stop blabbing on, you get my emotional mush of  a summary tomorrow. Something for you to look forward to in 2012 - the year the world ends apparently. But I will say here, that thank you to any one who has read this. Anyone who has looked at this blog in the past year, even if you're not reading now and will never know how grateful I am that people took some time to read this.

Here we go, the last poem. It will look as if I just started typing whatever, technology can't show my thinking process but rest assured, I'm going to think and come back to it. This is important. 

Picture is not meant to be arrogant, I just thought since it was poem about me, this was probably the best image to have. 

It could be said there is a poem 
for pretty much everything
from a sonnet for your heart to sing
to a limerick of Ireland 
and a man called Jim. 


I have tried all this year to write 
with maybe not all the words I know
they're mostly simple, but I wanted to show
what my world is like
maybe not fabulously, but it's so so. 


My world is ordinary, this I know 
and most would be likely to agree 
it's friends, esteem, education and family 
but I have tried to notice 
that what makes it extraordinary. 


The sunlit glow of a grey street
wondering about the stories 
of strangers we meet 
and memories that we all wish to keep.

Comfortable silences 
what it feels like to be kissed 
to be young 
and with people you love 
the simple pleasure 
of smiling on a sunny day 
thinking of the future 
of growing older 
thinking of childhood 
what could, would, should
of been
and still always remembering 
to be in the now.

We all know that 
there are counted days
and counted words
but I suppose what I've learnt 
is not to drown in it all 
but absorb and live,
maybe not be a focus of the world
but to have my own
to make it compelling
to have my own story 
that is worth telling.

Meant To Be

Penultimate poem. Holy shit.

It's written in books
it's said in shows 
that when you're young
you either know
exactly what you want
or not a clue at all,
but either way
the same thing is said 
life just happens
keep your head 
you can't control it all 
you might just have 
to wait and see
and usually what happens
is meant to be. 

On The Motorway

There were cars stretching 
as far as the eye could see
and then there was you,
there was you and me. 


The road and rain faded
along that motorway 
you help up a hand
which shone amongst the grey.


You began to write 
words, that I couldn't see
then you helped up the paper
it was simple but I was happy. 


Hi with a smiley face 
was all that you had written 
your writing neat 
and suddenly I was smitten.

Quick as I could manage
I got out my pen 
replied with hello 
in the hopes you'd write again. 


Another paper against the window
this one said I like your eyes 
you smiled with a caring gaze
and I felt complimented, though surprised.


I wrote back thank you 
and you nodded your head 
we were both still smiling 
and I knew I'd turned red. 


But all too soon 
the traffic began to move 
we became separated
and I completely lost you.
I have never seen you again 
and I'm most likely not going to 
but for that stretch of mile
we made a good couple,
me and you. 

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. 

With The Moon

My mind is full
of dreams
of clouds
the sound of the wind
of friends
and family
the shadow of sin
none are ceasing
or releasing
me from their grasp
I try to sleep
but I am theirs to keep
and the rising stars
gently laugh.

Nothing Really But Maybe Something

Here it is again
a chance 
to try something new
take a step
which I might forget
for it could lead 
to nothing 
but it could leap
to something.


This pounding heart
could be bluffing
to convince my brain
that this is sane
and this could happen 
but then again 
I have to remember 
what's happened before 
there's no assurance 
there's not really anything 
it's just a case of waiting 
to see what fate brings. 

Christmas

Merry Christmas everyone :') or whatever holiday you celebrate. 

It's not really the presents 
under the tree
but more the warmth and love 
of my family.


Wrapping paper
comes and goes 
but a smile is there
with a content glow
all day long,
it's festive
and perfect
here is where we belong.


Yes, it's cheesy but it's Christmas so hush. 

A Hanging Poem

I've been out three nights in a row, with not much sleep, so this poem will be nothing special. I'll post a festive themed one tomorrow - Christmas Day tomorrow - wow, doesn't really feel like it. I feel old -.- 

I have a led head 
and wish I was in bed 
all I really want is sleep 
and second to that
brush my teeth 
a cup tea 
perhaps some water 
not to move
and just ride this out.
I feel vaguely sick 
without a doubt 
I don't really want to drink
for some time 
I am the human equivalent
of slime.


But taking this all
in to account 
I probably will 
go out again 
but hopefully
it will be a long time
till it's this bad again. 

Here and There

The feeling that this is fleeting 
we're only meeting 
for barely any time 
and it feels as if
almost as soon as 
I've finished this rhyme 
we shall soon be on our way again.


For now our lives here are back
to what they once were
but the striking difference 
is that we all have a separate lives
we all have a there
and there will never be whole here
our worlds beginning to part 
and the scary thing is
that this is just the start. 

A Skill

I wouldn't call it confidence 
and definitely not arrogance 
but maybe more so,
tiny self assurance 
at having a skill.


Maybe not even that 
for skills seems too strong
but this,
writing,
(in a creative sense)
is something that 
I feel as if you can't do wrong 
once surrounded by my words 
I feel like this is where
I belong 
it's something I enjoy
something I like
and something
that I don't really think
but would like to hope
it may be something
that I can do. 

A Story To Tell

It's the final count down, doooo dooo do do do do (just youtube that song)
Ten more poems to go and then I'm done. I don't think it's really sunk in yet that I'm nearly finished. 

When you find your thoughts
beyond yourself 
when they become more focused 
on everybody else, 
you realise 
that we all have our own stories 
(well, of course we do)
but it's how we tell 
and how create 
that can make our stories
something great.


Perhaps mine won't be 
known all around
but it's more so about 
keeping my feet on the ground,
remembering there are others
there's everyone else 
who's stories may be kept on a shelf
but it's the characters
and the people
who read it and care
they are what's important,
the people whom which 
we chose to share.  

Lack of Sleep in the Morning

The bed calls like a lover 
wanting you to stay,
clinging to the sheets
whispering
that you need to be
with one another.


Your head on the pillow
heavy as led 
your sheets embracing you 
this is our time 
get up later
stay here instead. 


The cold air circles menacingly 
from the other side of the room
and with it a comes 
a sense of doom
that you have to soon rise
and leave your warm nest 
you're running late
and you need to get dressed. 

Overlapping Friends

We all easily fall
back in to place
a smile seems to be stuck
right on my face,
for here we are
as we were then 
as if we never left 
friends were made 
when we were away
but now we're back again 
we overlap
just have a chat 
we're just us
no fuss
all content
with our time well spent. 

A Perfect Moment

It was nothing really 
it wasn't extravagant 
neither grand or large 
just in an evening in at home
music on the CD player
gentle parent's conversation
giving that extra layer
full from tea 
and all it dawned on me
that I was nearly crying
I was so happy. 

Back Again

Leaving behind 
what at first was new 
but now more so worn 
and more so me 
beginning to be woven
with my history.


Back to the house
which has always 
been filled 
with memories 
with family 
it's odd to think
that this will take 
some getting used to 
for this is what
I always knew. 

What Feels Like Home

What feels like home
is hard to describe
without the use of clichés 
something that causes 
a nauseating response 
of hearing something
that's pretty much a replay.


Yes 
we know
home is not a building 
it's more so a heart 
and that feeling
of being a part 
of something.


For me
I would say
it's a warm feeling 
close to your chest 
that makes you feel 
protected from the rest
of the world 
and I will feel as safe
as I did 
when I simply just 
a little girl. 

The Less Romantic Side of Dancing

Hands around the waist 
beginning to dance
after turning around
to see their face 
not really caring
or wondering
why're you're in this place.


But now with hindsight
and a sober thought 
it all comes back to 
how you view
yourself 
and that dancing with a stranger
despite an element of danger 
kind of seems to be a sign
that you're pretty
somebody 
who is worth some time
and really
this is not the place to be
where drunk
dancing 
and kissing
are linked to self esteem. 

Bonding

It's not so much 

what we do
but what we say
as our lives
slowly become
more interlaced 
we become 
comfortable
open 
we never stopped
being ourselves
but now we become 
them more 
and really
I don't think I need
to ask for much more. 

Changing Esteem

It's surprisingly hard 
to lift up esteem
it's set in it's concrete ways
a block in my head
you're ugly
don't look at the mirror
look at the floor instead 
changing this
listening when people
compliment 
instead of tossing 
the notion away
it's surprisingly difficult
thinking of my appearance
as something 
that's okay. 

Going Home

No picture since I don't particularly like the idea of posting a picture of my house on here. Any other wouldn't be right. 


Ready to go home 
not because
I'm in a bad place
I just need the break
to sink back in to the
arms of family
in to routine
which now seems
like such a luxury,
back to the places
and faces
I know so well,
back to home.