Building an anthology

I am gathering together a collection of poems for an anthology of my own written works; I have been considering this for a few months now and I think I am ready to start one.

Because I want my anthology to be traditionally published, I realise I can’t use any of the poems that have been published here on my blog, they simply won’t allow that.

So I am using newer fresher poems to do that, which may mean that poetry may start to slow down here on my blog for a few weeks or however long it takes for me to complete an anthology.  Sorry about that.

I will still post daily, but I can’t guarantee poetry daily for now.

Thanks for reading!

I’m sorry for the worry

Ugh, I have poetry pushed back for months that I forget about and if I don’t check my prescheduled posts more than three times a week, sometimes the bad stuff gets out there without me noticing and that is what happened in my previous post.

I have bouts of depression where I write things like that and at the time I wrote them, they are genuine emotions at that time for me; but because I want to be more focused on happier things and healing myself I wanted to do away with those poems for times when I am feeling down again – if I ever do and no doubt I will someday.

Today’s poem “When” was written in January approximately, there are twelve other poems written around the same time that are prescheduled in the future, but I push them back so not to upset my readers unless I am actually having those emotions currently.

I’ve been slow and ill in the last three days and I forgot to keep watch of the gloomy stuff.

Please be assured, I am 50/50 right now, neither depressed or happy, just miserably suffering from a thousand sneezes an hour, a scratchy throat, hearing loss, ear infection, chest infection and a cold virus all rolled into one!

I’m physically suffering to the extent I have no time to think about how I emotionally feel right now, lol.

It can kind of be a blessing in disguise, though saying that, if I am ill too long – that can bring dark thoughts back again, because illness lasts too long at times that it makes me just feel like I was just born to suffer!

I did say earlier in the year I’d date the prescheduled poems, but I forgot on several because I have the memory span of a goldfish.

So please don’t go panicking over me, I am in a MEH kind of state right now.

Though if you want to give me any kind of “positive” attention, please do, I am feeling quite needy and sorry for myself right now – rolling around in bed like I’ve got man flu reciting the lyrics of Alice Cooper’s “Nobody likes me”.

Yes, I can be an attention seeker sometimes, I’ll admit it.

If anyone cares enough to donate extra soft tissues and honey and lemons I’d be more than grateful, lol!

When life gives me lemons I make cough syrup!

When life gives me a lottery win when I am sick like this, I buy hot Indian food to burn the MF out! 

I did actually win the lottery this week – £3.40, just £3.40… suppose it’s better than nothing, but it’s not enough for a celebratory Indian take away!

So yeah, thanks for caring, I appreciate it!

Thanks for reading!

When

When I’m in the danger zone

I want a way out

I want things to be done

I want to be done

I yearn for blackness to overtake me

Because it has nightly raped me

Of all my spirit, heart and soul

Things get darker, it becomes so dull

I can’t keep being blinded by gloom

I sometimes wish that I would die soon

The bliss that once was

Have you forgotten how to laugh?

How words fell out of mouths to bring joy not discontent

For the want of a light hearted time and prosperity

To throw away the darkness of a day and just forget

When did we lose our sense of humour?

When once we frivolously bantered in the want of fun

And nobody took it seriously, the words, mere words spoken by a jester because of sardonic irony

Never any real malice was its intent

And the sun shone bright back then, for we people forgave the attempt to alleviate

When did we all deviate from the light of the world?

When did our blood run cold to jocund distractions and bent ourselves up in anger and bitterness?

When will time show us what we have lost in pleasure?

Cautious to laugh as sacred joy has become a sin

It’s no use now, use it or lose it and we are nearly lost

Lost in the darkness, fearful to inject blithe reflections of the human state

Swamped in the sensitive depressions of those who have strayed from their souls too long

And together we will all stand in the shadows of our former selves

Unthinking, unfeeling and silent

Soon to forget the bliss that once was

I am carrying on

I am London, Yorkshire and Crewe

I am British, Italian, and Jew

I am Catholic, Irish and Dutch

I am this and that, I am much

I am born from survivors and skivers

I was bred from majorettes and taxi drivers

I am sugar, bread and tea

I am all these things you see

I am bleach, smoke and dirt

I am cosy words and hurt

I am rock, rap and pop

I am everything and I won’t stop!

I am velvet, coir and leather

I am lavender, hollyhock and heather

I am heavy but my heart is light

I am everything in sight

I am a library, a kitchen, a spa

I am going places, far!

I am sunshine and the rain

I am humour though inane

I am dreaming and I am real

I am carrying on until…

I come from

I come from the smoky rooms of former North London cottages

A place where, as time goes by becomes more urbanised and exotic as does its people

A close peaceful community nudged out by hordes of shoppers, losing your family in the chaotic crowds as the familiar becomes ever increasingly strange

The cosy smells of fish and chips, apples, fruit and wool, overtaken by spice and petrol as new buildings pop up like toadstools in the night

The meadows I played on with dogs and cousins too polluted now, the solution?  More pollution of course, another hundred toadstools pop up to house more strangers, till the village is devoured by the ever starving beast called London

I come from the gossiping nurses and the nagging sheet metal workers, sitting around smoking their money and complaining that making it is too hard!

The smell of bleach stuns your senses and makes your eyes bleed but at least it’s clean

Helicopters sing you lullabies as you fall asleep and police sirens wake you up the next day

I come from neighbours leaning over your fence, giving you gardening advice and cake and eventually curry!

Stray dogs chasing loose cats and getting run over by milk carts

Pigeons swamping the garden pecking at stale bread and the last lizard I’ll ever see gets taken by a fat crow, falling down roof tiles and into a gutter unceremoniously

I come from two sides of a road that society says shouldn’t be crossed

But here I am and I am me and both sides are equally mine

I come from sugar, fat and bread, fizzy drinks and tea

Pure white walls broken by ivory and chrome

Vacuums replaced yearly due to overuse and the bigger the telly the more kudos to you!

I come from a large garden, a sanctuary and au pair

I come from fashion critics, jealousy and violence

In books I hid myself in multiple worlds so that it could never touch me

So I would be free to be me and not them

Finding my own way to a new place

A place that is more like me

It is lost forever now, that place, where I come from.

How to kill an artist

There is a broken bridge in the creative heavens

Where creators steal other worlds

Make them their own and change things

Make them straight when they ought to be curled

It’s a tragedy to see it

When a creator can’t create

For they need to take another’s work

To put food on their plates

How proud do they feel when they do it?

Does it feed their soul?

I live in doubt of the truth of that

If I may be so bold?

How hungry is the creator who takes another’s art?

How starved and deranged are they? 

If they could eat another’s heart!

For I have seen it happen

The scope of vicious duels

Of two creators in battle

For one who won’t use their tools

And I have seen the tragedies it causes in their lives

As depression rips them soundly, as though they’re stabbed with knives

They can’t live with what they do and they know it’s wrong and bad

But they can’t help it really and that’s what makes it sad

To kill another artist for the want of fame and gold

It pounds reality into me

And makes my blood run cold

Triggers of grief

Grief comes in waves

A trigger of a memory

A word or two heard in passing

Thoughts of them come to you

Trespassing your mind

You can’t help it, you find

You love those memories, but they make you sad

Bittersweet, you feel bad

Guilty that you don’t want the memories, guilty you think of them

Moving on is difficult because it hurts again and again

Any little trigger will make you think of those

Who are in the heavens, those whose death caused you woes

But you know that you love them and happy memories you did share

But why does it have to hurt so much? 

When they are no longer there?

A soulless tragedy

In my heart and mind I am many things

Which I’m not you see

Because I only act a little part of me

For people don’t like others who are bright and bold and brave

Who think they are better people

So they seek to berate and scathe

Yet look inside my heart and soul and you will surely see

All the people locked inside, the people who are truly me!

I am an empress and I rule with an iron might

My tongue commands great armies and send enemies into flight

But I am also a bird that flies up high and it is truly free

To sing any song she wishes, who dares to silence me?

I am the wind which blows at you, air both hot and cold

And sweeps you off your feet sometimes and lose my self-control

And like an angel I am mild and meek, I will care with tender love

And often I will mediate for peace just like the blessed dove

I am a monster and I am fierce, you don’t want to bother me

And I shall tickle you with bites, just like a little flea

I am flash and I am loud, yet I am dull and quiet too

I am many people you know and don’t, you really have no clue

For I am hidden within myself, I am ashamed you see

To show you who I really am

And what I could be

Though mostly I am a creator

I make worlds with words and paint

I create people and creatures too and I do so without restraint

I create vast worlds for your mind to explore

And all I wish for you is for you to adore

And live within these worlds of mine within your very mind

And love it with all your heart and inspiration find

So you too can create like me, your own little universe

And write good poems, songs and stories and a little verse

So you can feel important too and like you have a place

And ignore all the haters who try to stop you with disgrace

Because one thing that is true and clear

The arts are important my dear

For without it we inhuman be

And soulless we will live in tragedy

And never more shall we love each little gem we find

For our hearts will be black and cold

Because we’ve lost our mind

Moon’s light

The moon is like a pill in the sky

Though the world is often too jaded to see it

A luminescent tablet healing the world as it sleeps

Making waves and a balance it keeps

Shining a torch down on all the lands

Making silver of the sands

Glowing brightly up high

Our brightest light in the night sky

Though sometimes it is dimmed and gone

It always will return

Each time it does it is a wonder

Yet mankind always seeks to plunder

And someday they will steal its light

And build great cities with all their might

And when that day is doomed to come

The moon will become grey and glum

And nevermore shall we look to see

The beauty that shines upon the sea

And never more shall there be silver light

Because the moon won’t shine as bright