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.

The Sun and Moon of the Brain

In some parts of the brain

everything clicks 

I say to myself 

this makes sense 

and in turn it sticks.

Whereas others get thrown

in to deep fog of the skull

where nonsense takes reign 

and clarity becomes dull.

The facts on one side 

jump up and down with glee

they're rooted and trusted

so it makes them happy.

Whereas in the gloom 

where understanding is lack

the words trudge round

their posture and attitude slack. 

The bright tries to drag 

the gloom it's way

tries to brighten the fog

and bring understanding with the day.

PS - purposely chose the picture since it's kind of what I had in my head while I wrote this :)

Starlight

Meant to do write this sort of thing at the beginning of the month, oh well just a few days late.
It's October. 3 more months to go, the end is in sight. Not saying I'll never post on this again, it just definitely won't be everyday and maybe not a poem. I don't know. 
Also I'm thinking of getting another tattoo when I've finished doing this. So it's a kind of during my first year of university/ to remind me I wrote a poem every day for a year (that being said, I've probably just jinxed myself. Shit.)

Anyway. Poem.

Don't really know what to write about . . . 

The light of  the stars
glow through the mist 
of grey and the clouds, 
lighting the shadows 
and skipping along
the ground 
waving to the sky 
as the moon says goodbye 
and the light is free 
to come and greet me 
the patterns spiralling 
under my eyelids 
and it not the darkness 
or sleep that I am with 
but the light of the stars 
and the wave of the moon.

Yup, title is also a Muse song. Yay Muse ^.^

The White Sails of the Wind

The wind gasps against the window
the glass shakes 
it sprints through the trees 
and the branches ache


While lying in bed 
the strangest of thoughts 
occur in my head 
of white washed sails 
above the house 
billowing in the breeze 
drifting along 
with the simplest of ease 


The ship brings the wind 
so it's sails can flow 
it steers through the sky 
its movement strong, slow 
and all the while 
the wind bellows.


The ship of the night time 
navigating with the moon
but it will be gone, 
it will be gone soon.


The wind is silent against the window
the glass is still 
it stops in the trees 
and there is a chill.