To Read You

Posted on May 30, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , |

Whisper in my ear your sweet tales of yesterday.

Show me your roots and the soil fom which you came.

Tell me of your battles and the scars you were dealt;
Did you win any of these?
Are you still fighting?

Give me a glimpse into your world,
Through your eyes.
I want to know your reality whilst I escape from mine.

Tell me of the people you’ve loved and those you’ve lost.

Tell me of those you hate and remind yourself of those you’ve forgotten.
I want to know.

Show me the real depth of your soul;
Forget all the politeness and brovado and expectations of others.

Show character.
Your character.
Be honest.

Tell me of the times you’ve cried.
Because I know.

Tell me of the times you felt like you couldn’t go on,
And the times you did!

Tell me your dreams and wishes for your life.

Tell me a story,
Your story.

I’m listening.

©

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Do a Portsmouth (Poetry In Motion)

Posted on April 12, 2010. Filed under: Articles | Tags: , , , , , , , |

Sunday 11th April 2010  Tottenham 0 – 2 Portsmouth

There’s a lot that we can learn from Portsmouth Football club 

I love football, probably just as much as the next person, but perhaps a little less than most.

Recently though, one particular team has caught my eye. Portsmouth Football club isn’t a club that I’ve ever really paid much attention to, but now I find that I am somehow drawn to them.

Why? Because for me, Portsmouth represent LIFE! And that beyond football.

I came to know of them well when I heard about their financial woes all over the news. Now this isn’t big news in terms of companies going bust and financial issues hitting most businesses. Not to mention the money problems faced by bigger clubs in the past such as Manchester City, Arsenal and Manchester United.

But this story seems a little more… I don’t know, sad.

I recently heard of a story of one of the Portsmouth players having to return to his parents’ home.

If you haven’t heard, there have been reports of the players not being paid for months (Portsmouth reportedly owe £65million), the club going into administration and having points deducted from their campaign as a result of this.

Now to the “working” world, this sort of action would be faced with the reaction of strikes. But watching Portsmouth play against premier league hitter, Tottenham was an example in loyalty if there ever was one.

There was something extremely poetic and gallant in the way Portsmouth played. With such determination and devotion – they had a fighters spirit about them. They were soldiers on that pitch!

I was greatly touched by it all, especially in light on their current circumstances.

And In spite of their monetary woes, administration matters and relegation, Portsmouth played like REAL champions.

And isn’t that what we need from real players?

Champions.

In life.

Whether on or off the pitch.

They won Sunday’s match, beating Tottenham 2 – 0. A victory well deserved in my opinion.

Regardless of the team you actually support, you couldn’t help but stand in salute of their amazing efforts.

Now, their problems are still very much present, but you never would have guessed the way they played.

So inspiring!

I often write about about it, but in adversity, when the world says “no way” or “you can’t possibly make a comeback” or “forget it, there’s no hope”, just “Do a Portsmouth” and show them that nothing can stop you when you just keep your eyes on the ball.

That’s one football lesson I definitely want my son to learn!

©

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Your Box

Posted on April 1, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

I comply not with these rules that are set before me and that drives you mad!

Your understanding of me and mine is limited;
So your judgement holds no real merit!

Your ignorance to the beauty of freedom blinds your vision
And inevitably suffocates you.

You spit out rules and lines and “must-dos” and “No’s”
Though it is you who alone is bound by this system; this regime.

“The greats”, you say, “did it this way.”
I say, “Before them, there were none!”
And after me, there will be many.

Many different, weird and wonderful songs to sing!

Yes!

Many new and wonderful ways to tell a story, not just by way of your Book of Rules!!!

I thrive off the restricted energy those like you spit,
I refuse to communicate with dead spirits.

I feel not the comments and ills that flow through your soul.
Wanting, wishing only to remove those dark glasses that prevent you from seeing;
Really seeing!

Uniqueness isn’t studied,
Yet delivering it is class.

Because, of all the walls, blockades, bricks and stones put up against freedom to be,
Ignorance is the one that slowly kills the soul of those who harbour it!

So plump up those pillows and get comfortable,
Because it looks like you’ll be in your box for a while!

Dedicated to YOU!! Thanks for the advice WF

©

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LONDON

Posted on March 5, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , |

London cries a lot.

Not more so than others, but still, a lot.

The tears aren’t empty though.
They are filled with the pain the streets contain.
The tears of those who walk these streets no longer flow.
Too many tears shed on their part. Much too many.

So London cries for them.

When it’s a day like that, London seems beyond sad.
Moody, perhaps.

But I know, being a shoulder London has cried on.
We know.

If you look harder it’s just London getting ready to start all over again.

The rain-like tears, cleanse and make new what was once dirty and old.

It’s rejuvenation that is taking place.

A rebirth. Born-again.

London is beautiful like this.

But today,
Oh today, on a day like this,
London raises it’s head, stands even taller and smiles.

Music fills the air like a soundtrack to London life.
You feel brazen.
Feel child-like.
Feel naughty.

The hardness is there, it’s still there underneath the skin,
Where the heart thumps it’s angry chorus
And the beat times itself to the beat of those it holds.

But today,
Oh today, on a day like this,
When the sun is out,
London shines.

©

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Life Imitating Art

Posted on March 3, 2010. Filed under: Poetry, Short Stories | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |

 – “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”  Pablo Picasso –

Everyday, hundreds came to see the artist at work.

He was phenomenal to watch. He would put his heart and soul into every piece. People stood in awe of his deeply meaningful work. He was extremely focused whilst painting and would not be distracted by the noises around him. The people passing by, the sounds of car horns and traffic, the sounds of children playing in the nearby park.

No, nothing would distract him.

This place was his sanctuary. Yes, it was a pavement in one of the busiest streets in the city, but to the artist, it was peace.

He never answered any questions. Never spoke, never looked up or around.

His paintings were truly personal. And because he never spoke, nobody knew what his works were about. What were his paintings trying to say? What were they about?

Yet to everyone who came across his work, each was touched in a very different way. Some were made happier for seeing a piece of his art. Some of his works made people think about their lives. Some people felt his work had changed their lives, making them feel love again or giving them the ability to dream. His work touched many – directly and indirectly.

This one day in the city was like any other day.

He arrived at his spot on the street. Sat down and began to paint.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Those around him. Stood still. They looked a little concerned for the artist as he seemed to show no sign of movement. One person called out to him, ‘are you ok?’ Another asked, ‘why have you stopped?’

He slowly turned to them, stood up and put down his tools.

They stood perfectly still. Waiting to hear from him, finally.

Looking around at each of them, he said, ‘I’ve stopped because I’m done.’

He picked up his things and walked away.

Turning to each other, they looked confused.

They then began to walk away. Each of them walking into their own lives.

© 

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As If I Only Had Today

Posted on February 23, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , |

One day, a day that changed my life, happened.

Yes, the greatest thing happened to me on this day.
It was the day I realised I don’t hold tomorrow.

The day I realised those I love will be lost.
And those I lost, I may have actually loved.

It was a day that I looked ahead of me;
In front of me,
And only saw now.

This day I stood still and felt the earth move.

On this day, my plans for tomorrow turned into goals for today.

The day I realised it’s all or nothing.
Half hearted just doesn’t cut it.

It was a day I put down the baggage,
And walked away with nothing.
Happy.

On this day I looked and really saw.

It was a day I stopped caring so much about me in others eyes,
And started to care about me in my own!

It was on this day I sat down and realised it all happens for a reason or a season.
Simple.

This day, I knew that worrying is a pointless act.
It may or may not happen.
Either way, worrying does nothing for it.

Yes, on this day I realised I don’t hold tomorrow,
So let me do well with embracing today.

©

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My Smile = My Strength

Posted on February 18, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

In the bad, if I can still smile,
I know I am strong.

In the confusing,
When all I can do is laugh,
I know I have power.

When I smile in the uncertain,
Know that I am not crazy.
It’s just my strength in demonstration.

When the world says I smile too much,
I laugh.
I smile.
Perhaps the world is frightened by my vigour.

As the world around starts to crumble – My world,
It’s my smile that makes me stand firm.

When they say “you can’t surely be happy all the time?”
No, not all the time,
But my smile pulls me through.

Please, never take my kind heart,
Pleasant words or my smile for weakness.

Like still waters that run deep,
And calm volcanoes that rumble and erupt,
My smile hides many things.

But one thing my smile will never hide is my strength.

©

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At Home In My Head

Posted on February 8, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , |

At home in my head;
This is where I live.

When the world hurts my core,
This is where I come.

From the harshness of reality,
Here is where I find peace.

From the rude awakening of those around me,
Here is where I hide.

When my heart can no longer take the evils or fight the giants,
I curl up in a ball here.

Right here is where I resort. 

When I can’t run, walk or crawl, 
This is where I am.

Don’t look for me.
Don’t ask of me.
Don’t come to me.
I will not let you in.

When I’m ready;
Strong enough to come outside,
To face you,
To stand up strong,
I’ll slowly show my head.

I’ll be Ok.
I’ll be fine.
I’ll smile again – I always do!

But please, just for now,
Let me go home.

©

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A Letter to P.A.

Posted on February 6, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , |

Dear P,

I’ve wanted to write this letter for so long with every intention of giving it to you one day.

But I never did as my heart was filled with all sorts of fears;
Known and unknown.

So I commit myself to writing this to you here in hope one day you may stumble upon it.

You were a great guy.
A man with heart.
A strong and determined character that I admired.

You might laugh because your situation at the time was, somewhat, precarious, but you were inspirational.
I loved talking to you.
Hearing you laugh.
Hearing all the positive things you had to say about life.
About Me.

We clicked like we had known we would for ever.
We told stories of our lives, our hearts and battles and scars.

Yes, there were times when you became overwhelmed by it all. By your life. I could see that,
But in some ways, I turned a blind eye hoping and praying my love was enough.
And at times it was.

I wanted more of you. More from you,
But you were not in such a place to give.
And for this I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for looking but not seeing.
I’m sorry for listening but not hearing.
I’m sorry for wanting and not needing.
I’m sorry for the space I gave you and the times I gave you none.

I didn’t understand the fight, I just saw the fighter.

When I left, I put you to the back of my mind.
The realisation that this was bigger than me became too real.
It was bigger than my hopes or my dreams.

Though, you never left the forefront of my heart.
It is all still so real.
God brought us together;
We tore us apart.

I wanted what I wanted without much thought.

Now you are not totally blameless in all that took place,
So I put my hands up for what I did.
I too was responsible for our fall.

So now I wish you well.

I will always remember you the way you were. I fell in love with a dream.
x

©

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The Scariest Word in the World

Posted on February 2, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , |

I’m scared of the word Yes – sometimes, I am.

Because Yes means, falling and hoping someone else will catch you.

Yes means letting them know you’re breakable.

Yes means giving them some power over your heart.

Yes means telling them what you really feel.

Yes means letting them see the REAL you.

Yes means showing them your crazy side.

Yes means allowing them to make it all better.

Yes means saying No to control!

Yes means crying whilst they hold you.

Ultimately, Yes means letting them love you. 

Yes!

Yes means I’m not scared of Yes anymore.

©

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