As I sit down and look at the day

It is as if it could be at bay

Laying down at night

More of it being a flight

The time is coming but it has shades of gray

Not knowing where to fly

Never knowing about what to buy

The inner battle within me

Goes into knowing what am I supposed to be

At least all I can do is try

The poem itself is a reflection of a never-ending battle to determine what to do with yourself. All of it has to do with making decisions. Looking at it, it shows that it is never easy at all. Apply this to something like picking out the right career for yourself out of High School. Corporate event in London where everything has been laid out for you to do. This poem is to me a pure reflection on how it is and how it can be. There are no answers to a question that just doesn’t have any and cannot be answered.

Take from this a lesson that always come to past. You have to take a few chances every now and then. While the odds may not be in anyone’s favor, it is however a case of just showing that you are willing to do what is needed to be a success. Of course, seeing how it just doesn’t apply to just people who come out of High School, it could go to those who may have to make a change of location on where they are living at this moment.

What inspired me to write this has more to do with choices that I have been making overtime. It is a reflection of trying to make the right decision but never really knowing what to do or even thinking closely about it. Today, it is about taking more of a chance to be successful with rolling the dice so to speak.

The poem itself is what it is. While it may not be the greatest poem, it is however a symbol of emotion and that was the goal. It does not require a major train of thought and it is a decent poem. It tells a bit of a story and keeps you thinking about what you have to do. Success is something that has never been a guarantee on anything.

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We do the work , we take the hit

We work real hard, we do our bit

We try to keep our lives intact

We try to hide the truth from fact

But as the evening skys grow dark

And as the dying dog goes bark

We see the truth, the aweful truth

And that we’ve sewn, comes home to roost.

——-

Thanks for publishing me Poesy, I really appretiate it. My name is Happy Brian, I’ve been writing poetry for many years now, but I’ve only recently had the guts to actually start sending it out. Infact the only reason I ended up here was because I began writing for the sharedlog writing project - they pay people to write. Once I’d published half a dozen easy to write no brainer articles, it seemed easier to start pushing out the material that I really wanted people to see, and that is my peotry.

Poetry is about more than just words, its expression. The way that you weave language means that you can give people more than just a description of what you are trying to say, you can infact give them an emotive sense of it. You can lead people on a journey that more than just described, it tells a good story that leaves the reader changed in some way. If you can do this, if you can touch yout reader, if only for a moment, then you have succeeded as a writer. This is what I aim and hope to do. This is my goal as a poet. I’m no professional, but I hope that my words can have some effect on people, that I can share my experiences through this the most beautiful of mediums.

I hope that you enjoyed reading this. Till I am a famous poet however, I’m going to get back to my more mundane day job trying to design these pvc banners that are going to print next week.

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I really am a bit lost

I have you now for good

But at what cost?

The pain I have brought

On to those I love has left me

With no lessons taught.

You’re my buoy in the sea

Why’d it take so long

To pick you out of humanity

You’re just like me.

Maybe that makes me a narcissist.

Maybe not.

Our anger erupts together

In a profound and hated orgasm

Mean words cut like thorns

And the cross that I bear.

I don’t mind.

Balloons of white and purple

On a twisted sunset

Launched into the horizon

As we exchange our vows

You’re mine now.

I’m not scared.For once.

You protect me from myself.

My habits of self destruction.

I sneak in the night.

To try and destroy me.

You awake.Always.

Do you ever sleep?

I don’t get away with it.

Thank you for that.Even if I don’t mean it.

I know my gratitude should exist.

I’m sorry that I hate myself.

I really am.

Thank whatever Gods may be that you’re here.

My habits cut deeper than guns.

You save me from me.How could you know?

–And still care?

You deserve better.

Someone pretty.

And sweet.

And caring.

I am none of that.

I am mean. Cynical.Cruel.Unethical.

I am dumb.

You love me.

If only you could tell me why.

But you can’t.

Like me the words die before they form.

We grow everyday a bit more.

I grow.I change.

Because of you.

Sometimes it shocks me how good you are.

Why’d it take so long?

I screwed up so much before you.

If only I had you long ago

Before hurt.

Before pain.

Before scorn.

Before tears.

You could’ve erased it.

The worst part is I think I needed those things.

To earn you.

To become whole.

I had to earn your bliss.

It’s okay.

That’s the cross I bare.

And I still don’t mind.

Thank you for everything you are.

Thank you for everything you feel.

Thank you for everything you do.

Thank you for everything you say.

Even the mean things.

Because sometimes I need them.

Thank you for making me your wife.

—END—

This poem has been brought to you in association with the listing, bring the best of anything you could ever look for, from commercial property in london through to a face lift or liposuction.

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Every year at the festival we at Poesy have tried to make sure that there is some kind of poetical outlet that is offered out. Theatre is aplenty, and the stand-ups certainly have their corner of the market covered, but what about poetry? In the past we have been part of the organisation of poetry readings, poetry jams and writing workshops. Most of you won’t remember the early days where we just did it on the streets – mostly because it didn’t work out too well for us! However, if any of you have been to the festival, you may remember the open sessions we ran as part of the free fringe in the last few years, as well as the ‘bar sessions’ we put on in pubs in and around Edinburgh. With a festival that prides itself on its eclectic creativity, there is still room for a stronger poetry presence.

That is where Poesy comes in to play. We have decided to ‘kick it old school’ as it were, and take things back to being on the streets. The project idea (and the practices of it are still being worked out) are as well as running the poetry impro jam this year, we want to bring poetry back into the visible limelight for the public. We’ve discovered a new way to make this work. The key element came whilst at a (quite boring) exhibition at the Kensigton Olympia. I found out about the ease of carrying, putting up, and operating roller banners. If you don’t know what I’m talking about there a good picture of a roller banner here. This is how it would work.

We pick the best of the poetry that people submit. We then have them printed onto these pop up display stands, then we simply pick a spot in Edinburgh each day, put them all up and presto we have a street poetry exhibition happening! We could take donations from anyone who paricarly enjoys the work, perhaps sell postcards with the poetry on it, and certainly use it as advertising to encourage people to come to the poetry jam that we are also running. I think this is a really good idea, but what we need now are poems.

f you have a poem, and you would like to have it considered for display in Edinburgh, please email it to the poetry jam address at improjam@gmail.com. We will publish it on this website, and if selected you could be in for a chance to have your poem displayed in Edinburgh!

We look forward to hearing from you and reading your work! Email us today!

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I May, I Might, I Must

If you will tell me why the fen
appears impassable, I then
will tell you why I think that I
can get across it if I try.

Marianne Moore

While they are handy for keeping the crows away, and not quite as effective at mole removal, I couldn’t help but raise a smile when I read the following poem on the District Line to Putney Bridge:

Ode to a Scarecrow

Hey, be seedy! He effigy, hate-shy, jakey yellow man. Oh pique! You are rusty, you’ve double, you ex-wise head.

Unknown

Poems on the Underground was introduced in 1986 as a means of bringing poetry to a wider audience and was the brainchild of Judith Chernaik, an American writer.

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The submit form for people to submit poems will be up and running shortly.

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