If there is one thing that many people dont know about me is that I write poetry and I have been doing so since I was 13. I remember the exact moment I got interested in the rhyming format, it was in an English lesson in school – we had a supply teacher for a few lessons who looked a bit like a witch. I remember she was quite alternative and a bit hipsterish and I remember she had really long blond hair and was about 40 with glasses. She was very dramatic in the way that she spoke and a lot of people in my class didn’t like her but I did as she was really interesting to watch. She introduced us to poetry and got us writing our own / trying to create rhymes and from that day on I fell in love with writing it.

Now, let me just highlight the fact I said writing poetry there, i am not the biggest fan of reading it. I like poetry to rhyme and can’t stand ones that don’t and I remember at AS level having to study in depth poetry that didn’t rhyme and had loads of metaphorical meanings and i hated every second of it. (So much so i gave up English for A Level). I enjoy the writing of my own but down go out my way to read other peoples, go to poetry readings or anything like that. When I first started writing poetry a lot of them were based at children and I still have records of these as I am producing childrens animations based on them.

However, over the years the direction of my poetry has altered too, whilst I still write poetry related to characters aimed at children I also write other poetry that usually strings from emotions and feelings from various events in life. I keep a lot of these poems private as I find them close to my heart about events or people that have had effect on me. I don’t like sharing them and to be honest don’t really read them once I have written them but they are a good way to let off steam and express emotions that need to escape.

I have also been lucky enough to win competitions with my poetry as well. In the past I have won concert ticket competitions and also money to pay for my visa for when I lived in New York for 3 Months in 2010.

So, it wouldn’t be a storytelling article without some poetry that I have written so here is  a couple to show you my poetry writing.

To Be a Tourist, Written 9/3/2010

(Note: This poem won me a scholarship for my internship in America in 2010)


This morning I woke up realising this was the day,

I finally go to the airport and leave the UK,

To jet to America for a summer of fun,

I can’t believe my journey has finally begun.

 

The airport that’s full with people excited as me,

To escape abroad to feel completely relaxed and free,

Once your sitting on the plane comfy in your seat,

You can let you imagination run wild,

Whilst resting your feet.

 

To see the world, to travel the land,

To walk through the clifftops,

To stand on golden sand,

To swim with the dolphins,

To be the owner of a Macy’s bag,

But everything is delayed thanks to stupid jet lag.

 

The feeling of tiredness that never goes away,

You feel disorientated and groggy for a few days,

Your body clock gets messed up and totally confused,

When you arrive in a new country your first few days are screwed!

 

Once the few days of trauma have finally fled,

You are able to explore without wanting your bed,

The excitement and anxiety of new places to explore,

It is like an addictive drug and gets you wanting more.

 

The tastes of exotic foods in a country that’s new,

Is interesting, tasty and amazing to you,

It gives you an insight into culture around,

And helps you realise the hidden secrets that there is to be found.

 

The first time you decide to not open a map,

To pretend that your sense of directions not crap,

To pretend you’re not a tourist and trying not to get lost,

By walking everywhere avoiding taxi costs.

 

To go to the landmarks you always wanted to investigate,

The Statue of Liberty, Times Square, and the Empire State,

To go on organised tours around the big city,

With a tour guide who thinks he is funny and witty.

 

To go to Broadway to see a vibrant and entertaining show,

That by the end of it your insides physically glow,

From the energy and the atmosphere there is all around,

Making you feel like your feet will never touch the ground.

 

With so much to see and so many activities to do,

The time goes by so fast and suddenly you,

Have to leave it all behind and head to JFK,

To get a plane back where you first started, the UK,

 

As the plane starts to lift you above the floor,

You start to suddenly realise you want to stay and do more,

However after six hours of travelling and being on a plane,

You feel quite relieved to be back in the land of rain!

 

The Lonely Skeleton, Written 25/5/06

Once in the dark shadows of the night
used to sit a lonley skeleton who wasnt very bright
he loved the time he had all by himself to think
and he would understand life by one formula..drink

there was no way that he would be incomplete
because he always had a bug of some sort to eat.
the days would come and then would go
and there stayed the skeleton sitting all alone

Many seasons he sat through like winter and spring
and there he would stay looking sad not saying anything
he was upset and some times he would be still sitting ready to cry
this was because he had watched his one true love die

At the beginning of the millenium in the year double zero
The midnight sky was illuminated whilst they watched below
Then an unfortunate event started to occur and it all went wrong
A rocket went off course and killed her whilst her love was singing her a song.

Now u are probably wondering what happened to the skeleton?
well now my friends, he is now disintergrated and gone
last new years he decided to join his love for eternity
by buying a rocket which was aimed right at his heart you see.

The pair can now be seen in the lighted shadows of the dark
Dancing to the rhythm of the night to show the love in their heart.

Every Rose, Written 15/5/06

Every petal of the rose that drops off the wilted stem,
Shows you every part of my heart that is starting to fall apart,
When I realise that all things will end because you treat me wrong,
I realise I knew it would, even from the start.

Every petal of the rose that drops that is covered with dew,
Shows the tears that are falling from my swollen eyes,
When I realise that there will soon be no me or you,
And the emotions flow through and through me.

Every petal of the rose that was once blooming red,
Showed the love I once felt deep deep down inside,
These emotions are now becoming too much to take,
And rip right through me like the rough ocean tide.

Every petal of the rose that drops into my open hand,
Becomes like poison and makes me start to bleed,
The blood flows out colourless and bland,
Just like our relationship has become.

Every petal of the rose that drops dead and brown,
Every part of the stem that erodes away,
Creates depression on my wounded heart,
As it waits to heal one day.

 

 

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