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.

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.  

Desire, Inspire

The longing to write
to grasp that initial excitement
of beginning to sculpt a new world
and mould new characters
grows every day
but it is stopped by a fear
of it already being done
imagination not good enough
or having enough  stamina
to finish.


Not knowing where to start
there's enough desire
but I'm not inspired 
for all I can wonder is
what story needs to be told?