Here Went Something

The title? Well my first post in 2011 was called Here Goes Nothing, thought I'd work with that rather than just call it the end. That seemed a slightly shitty title, not to mention it sounds a pinch depressing. But on to more important matters. 

Well, this is it, the conclusion I promised. After this, I have most certainly posted on my blog every day for a year, it started on the 1st and it ends on the 1st. What do I say? I'll just start typing and hopefully in amongst all my mumblings, some form of decent sense of ending will occur. 


Writing a poem every day for a year, it wasn't easy. Especially because what I was writing, I didn't think was very good and occasionally I felt I was wasting my time. But I carried on, probably because of stubborness and wanting to prove I could do it more than anything. And I think by writing these poems, it forced me to think so much more about what I was seeing. It allowed me to look around the world and try and get inspiration from anything. That kind of thought process in fact led to my first tattoo, I wanted to get something to remember what that felt like. To be open minded and wide eyed, wanting to soak in as much as I could from life.

I think I've always liked the occasional moment where you just sit back and let the world take over. Looking through a window and watching the clouds, walking along the street and listening to conversations, wondering about other people and their lives and how you have no idea who they are or what they'll do except in that brief second of conversation. And train rides. I love train rides. You get to really absorb scenery and catch glimpses of lives which have nothing to do with you. It makes you think one of two things 
1. In the bigger picture that makes up the universe we are barely a speck. 
2. How important your own world is - well, what makes up your own world.

I've tried to express this way of thinking in my poems, not to force other people to think the same, but just to try and show what I'm like. I'm sure other people have the same sort of thoughts.  I'm 18 - I do know that other people understand me and most likely feely the same. (just thinking of the whole stereotype teenager of nobody understands me and my individuality, blah blah blah)

Jesus, this is is a lot of writing. Oh well, it's the last blog post, I think I'm allowed to indulge myself a bit. I'm trying to think what else I want to say. Well, I said it yesterday but thank you so much for reading this. You're a wonderful (and patient) person :') 


It's a relief and kind of sad to have finished. I'm quite proud of myself for sticking with it. I hope that when I'm older, I continue to write because I can't remember a time when I haven't loved it. I did this because I wanted to become a more creative person, I'm not sure if I am but I am definitely a more inspired person. 

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. 

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. 

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 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.  

Holding on to a Smile

So it's December, a mince pince has been consumed as well as my the first chocolate in my advent calendar. Things are going to get rather merry around here, I imagine. But as well as counting down to Christmas it is also the count down to the end of the poem every day for a year o.o I don't know what to say that hasn't been said - you know the usual can't believe I've actually (nearly) done it, people read it (not that many but still some) how it'll be a relief to of finished, you get the idea. 
Well, for want of a better phrase, it's the beginning of the end. 
Though, in a less dramatic sense, I am thinking of starting a new blog at some point but more so for journalism reasons. 

It may not be
easy
to be always
happy.


It may not be
easy
to be always 
me.

They say
that life is hard 
I would say
that applies
to some
rather than others.


Where I am now
it's pretty good 
I think I'm acting
how I should

I don't need to try
to smile 
it just happens 
but mean while 
I hope others
who find it hard
can find something
to hold on to. 

Fragments

Conversation

of strangers

important to them

and nothing to you 

Jigsaw

trying to fit pieces

and one is always gone

the bigger picture

never done. 

Thoughts

one begins, another stops

intelligence and emotion

soon become lost

as the heart beats

and everything is sweeped

suddenly finding the fragments 

becomes less clear 

and I'm just happy

to be on my way here.

Writing World

I can only give 
what I have
I can only take
what I need 
I can write 
what I know
or what I wish
or anything 
that lays between.


It's not so much control
but finding myself 
within my soul 
discovering what I like
what I wish to happen 
trying to make people read
what I see. 


When I write
the world stops
while I create my own.

Beginning

oneword.com for title :) 
ps the picture is from a music video - This Love- Like A Million Lights.
The chorus has the word beginning in and I thought of it a lot when writing this. I love that song :')

Something new
we haven't really started yet
opportunities hidden 
we don't know what's coming 
but we have to move forward
to keep our story going 
our lives flowing 
because with every beginning
and every new chapter
we take a leap forward
never really knowing 
what will happen 
but hoping in the end 
it was worth it. 

Looking Back at the End of the World

If the world were to end tomorrow 

I assume most people would be 

afraid as a lost child in the dark 

full of sorrow 

at the things they haven't done 

worrying over 

if they've haven't embraced life

had fun,

others may regret

that they didn't create enough

times they wouldn't want to forget.

As for me?

Of course I would see it as a tragedy

but looking back 

there are times of regret

times of smiles 

and all the while

knowing I have people 

and memories that we've shared 

it's not a life time 

but I hope it would be enough

to get me through 

if I knew, that the world

would end soon. 

At the Station

I'm in a funny state of mind
of when I get lost in the ways
of human kind
noticing habits 
then I skip a few steps 
and how soon that I forget
what I first saw
and instead I get lost in
not really our flaws
but more how we all act
under the skin,
really underneath everything
we are all just the same
trying to get through this game
the best we can
and all the while
trying to understand
what we're here for. 

Whispering Thoughts

The whisper of a thought
barely a breath upon the brain
it's not driving me insane 
merely making me wonder
how many thoughts I've missed
how many come and go
without letting me know.


Have I missed an idea
that was barely here?
Forgotten a fact 
because I was distracted?
I don't want everything
to disappear like that,
I want to try and grab it all
because it's me, my thoughts,
my world. 

In My Head

A half empty plate of cupcakes 
possibilities
couples at tables 
yellow lighting 
that looks cosy
maybes 
what could happen
something new 
pink cloud, kissing the grey
and this just me
what about you
what about everybody? 

The Decision is Mine

So I just spent about twenty minutes in my bedroom, drinking a cup of tea and thinking. But it's hard how to describe what I was thinking about, everything just seemed to drift around my head, not really settling down anywhere. So this poem is trying to get those thoughts to stick somewhere. 

In this room 
things don't really change 
the sunlight comes 
the sunlight goes 
the dust covers on books fade
glumly sat next to lucky ones
who got the shade. 


In the years that are coming now 
decades or more 
I won't be able to get through this door
It won't be home
I won't be welcome.


But unlike the books 
that are stuck on my shelf 
I have the decision to change
change my life and my self 
I can change through time
time won't change for me 
it's my decision, the decision is mine. 


We all grow old 
this we've been told 
but in comparison to earth 
and how it came to be 
we are still so young
and our significance tiny.


We all move on
whether a different bedroom
with books stuck in the gloom
or something deeper 
we make that change 
stuck in the flow of time 
but that decision,
that decision is mine.  

Knocking Worry

I question my health
I question my self
Always finding a flaw
not so much doubt
but a scream and shout
of anxiety
of stress.


Worry,


Constantly makes itself known
all the time
never a break
always thinking
I've made a mistake


Worry,


Tapping on the shoulder
stamping on the brain
try to stay sane
keep telling myself
try to stay sane. 

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. 

Lost Thought

Every wrinkle of the brain
seems to be filled 
with a line of thought
be it an idea
a memory
a fear 
a desire 
a fact

I travel along each crack
picking up this 
but get distracted by that
It's hard to keep track. 


I don't know what I'm loosing
because I'm too busy
finding. 

State of Mind

Teeth coated with the taste of last night 
the head does not feel quite right 
I'm trying to write in longer lines
and even harder, trying to rhyme.


This poem is in bits and not lots of sense 
I apologise but I am feeling a little dense
my head is filled with so much stuff 
some good, some bad, enough is enough. 


Media, essays, thimbles, pens, rain
Drama and how nothing will be the same
I'm trying to search through it all to find
my right, my usual, state of mind. 

Censorship

I think I can be too open
not with my heart
nor with my legs
but within conversation.


I say things
that don't need to be said
not mean
or degrading
but personal
to me,
Almost as if peeling
open my skin
and letting people see
everything


Allowing myself 
for judgement
I can't hide
just be found
not my secrets
but just my self


I'm out in the open
with my words
and for others
to shoot me down. 

Morning Mind

Thoughts
not sticking
slipping
from the grip
of the brain


Quietly 
padding around
the head
barely making 
an imprint 
can't keep track
of the footsteps
or the impression
what they were trying to say


Drifting back
until once again
falling to sleep
barely remembering
it happened
in the first place.