This Poem Has No Title

This poem-y piece of writing is approaching 2 years old. It's been sat in my folder without a proper title ever since i wrote it. I struggle to make sense of what i was really trying to convey through it but i think the main theme is a feeling of uncertainity about your identity. Not really knowing who you are - thinking that you're someone else, and not the person you always thought you were. Not the nicest thing i've ever written!

Feeling alone within and not really there
Feeling lost and in a dream,
Feeling like you're no-one, but you're everyone
On top of the world, being someone.
Someone with meaning,
Someone with purpose -
A wish needed to fulfil
But you can't, and you won't,
Because they won't show you how.
You were never meant to walk three peaks
You were never meant to breathe the sea
You were never meant to be that person -
Who walked this life full of cares,
Who held the hand of the ones that cry -
You were the one, inside, who cried,
You were the one, within, who died,
And you will stand alone tonight,
You will fight a war in your mind,
Against the ones you doubt,
Against you, yourself, your own,
You hate, you deceive, you won't be who you need -
Too many times and you tell yourself,
Too many lies and you hurt yourself,
Be free, you say, and let it go -
Just feel it go, hold it and watch it go
Be alone - be all alone,
Be free of the life you never had and was never real
Let yourself feel.
Let yourself be real.
And hold it down,
Cut it down,
Break it down.

Three Verses For Night-Time

When the day is in bed
Silence catches my breath,
And I think of all the pretty things
Flying around my head.

When the day is in bed
Our song hovers on my tongue
And i think of all the nights
We stayed up to hear the last drum

When the day is bed
Silence catches my breath
And i think of all the pretty little things
Flying around my head.

Welcome.

So, this is a new computer..hello.
You are here under sad cirucmstances. My faithful and loyal laptop, Acer, passed a way a couple of days ago. Although i treated him impeccably throughout his life, a simple unforeseen accident cut his precious life short. I miss him with every breath, but i welcome you, Packard Bell, with open arms. Maybe i'll begin to share my life with you. You will have the pleasure of my writing, my contemplations, my studies, my pastimes, my musical tastes, my photographic flair. I hope you enjoy everything i provide you with, and will, in return offer me the same support and kindess. I have to say, you're a good looking machine. I hope you don't take 'machine' as an insult - i'm afraid i'm not so hot on technological lingo, my vocabulary is limited in this area. We've known each other a day, and slowly i'm beginning to fill you with my personality. I may throw knowledge at you that you don't want to know - i might ask you to store the details of the next jumper i want to purchase, or recipes for bacon and feta cheese risotto. I might share my secrets with you, and i'll have to trust you to keep these safe. You'll become my number one confidant. In actual fact, you'll become a part of me. I hope you don't mind this - i am well aware you didn't choose me - i chose you. Let's hope we learn to live amicably. Thank you already for reminding me i need to call the insurance company tomorrow, and for playing one of my favourite cds. Thank you for allowing me access to facebook, and for transferring all my poems. There's a lot more to come, and so here begins our relationship - laptop and I. Oh, and btw, I blog...

Fearful

One day we’ll say goodbye
And we’ll kiss like we’ve never kissed
We’ll stand amongst the sea
And the waves will lap at my knee

It’s this day I am fearful for
The day the boats come to dock,
And the doors I held open will have to lock

My hopes will fade and I’ll start to dream
Dreaming of you as the one that got away
One day I’ll have to miss your face
And I’ll have to remember the way you taste

I’ll stick your photo on my wall
I’ll shed a tear when I hear your song
One day we’ll all be said and done
And I’ll have to face that you have gone.

Deceptive Poetry.

This poem won’t say anything i want it to say
i’ll save it all for another day
that day won’t come until it’s too late
and you’ll be wondering if it was fate

this poem won’t tell you the things i feel
i munch on the words like yesterday’s meal
i didn’t know that i could feel so much
but the heartbreak fades with each touch

this poem won’t say that i love you
it won’t tell me you love me too
it will hide every feeling i’ve ever felt
and pretend you made my heart melt

this poem won’t make you happy, nor sad,
an emotion-less being, it drives me mad
it will hide the truth from your eyes
i hope you know it’s all lies

this poem won’t tell you that i’m sad today
it’ll hide it with rhymes and pretty words to say
it won’t tell you that i cried tonight
and after all this time, i’ve seen the light.

Your Song.

Your song is beginning to play,
It’s lingering a bit inside my head today

Yours is the only song I ever want to hear,
I wish today could last for a year

Heavy beats and a muffled drum,
A pretty guitar that you strum

I sometimes wish I could sing in tune,
Just to whisper along with you

I’d stay awake so I could play,
We’d play until the break of day

Sometimes a song is all I need
To fill my heart with love and greed

I’d walk hand in hand through sound with you
Away with the tune, your song and you.

The Dot Of The I's.

I want to open the book of your life,
And read between all the lines.
I was caught in your dreams in fantasies i can’t comprehend
With words i don’t understand,
And I want to know everything you know:
To read your first chapter and take the meanings from the page,
I want to make sense of the rhyme and the fantasies,
To know your hopes, to cure your fears
I want to read about the time we first kissed,
And everything about me that one day you’ll miss
You’re riddled with secrets that i fear,
And a lifetime of love i wish i could be near
I want to read between your lines,
Read your book page by page
To be the fiction and the fact,
The rhetorical question and the dot of the I’s.