Stuck

Everything the same
blurring with too 
much familiarity
like reading one line
over and over and over
and over and over and over
in a book. 


No boredom
nor regret 
no impatience
nor content


Just,
stuck
and waiting.

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. 

Change

Bare branches
to buds
to blossoms
to leaves
back to 
branches. 


Clearly,
I'm not a tree
and I don't think 
I need poetry 
to say this 
but
let me try
and explain
the simile.


Change happens
unavoidable 
but I think
I'm happy 
with changing
I'm becoming
comfortable
with myself 


I'm no blossom
not even a bud
but I think I'm doing
what I should
and accepting
changes 
not trying to run
or stop the season,
listening to reason
slowing down
and embracing
the spring breeze. 

New Chapter

Gaining a year,
every year
will become 
tiresome 
scary
a stone plummeting 
through the system
making you
feel heavy


but


for now
it means a change
for the better,
making life speed
not drag
not so much the closing
of a book
but the beginning
of a new chapter. 

A Change

In the season
is simple,
winter to
autumn
to spring 
then summer
and repeat.


In atmosphere it's
easily detectable,
relaxed laughing
to shifty glances
awkward coughs
or vice versa.


In friends
it's neither.
No simple signs
or sudden change
Can't pin point
how
or why
it happens
or wonder
if it will change back.