New Year - NaPoWriMo2017 #14

New Year 

One of my favourite memories,

Is being on the Phone

To you,

Making Maggi

Petulantly,

On New Year's Eve. 

Mad, at being home

With nothing exciting to do.

But ringing in

New Years' 

To your teasing voice

Made up for it. 

You won't be 

Celebrating any more

New Years. 

Some part of me 

Still lives in denial

Of that. 

This isn't the first

Poem I wrote 

For you. 

But it is the first

 You won't read. 

Some part of me

Still lives in denial

Of that. 

On Having Potential - NaPoWriMo17 #13

On Having Potential

Having unrealised

Potential 

Is perhaps

The foremost talisman 

Of my life. 

Potential is

The energy in a body

With respect to its position

Not motion. 

Potential is

A coiled spring

A charged battery

(According to Physics). 

Potential is

Something inside

Me, Waiting

To go Kinetic. 

Baby, I'm just starting

To catch fire

And burn, burn, burn. 

Young Love - NaPoWriMo2017 #12

Young Love

Do you remember, 

The violent passions 

Of love at 16?

Even then

I was a cerebral lover, enamoured 

By pretty words

Not pretty faces.

You see, I was

'Authentic'

(Sheer vanity)

It was as shallow 

As falling for a pretty face.

But you know, hollow 

Pretty words

Cut to the quick

Much quicker

When you are 16

And have given 

Yourself with all the words

In your adolescent rushing heart. 

Today, I rather

Fall sedately 

Into pretty eyes -

They hurt much less. 

Quiet - NaPoWriMo2017 #11

Quiet

 There is no quiet 

In me. 

There is no Zen 

In me. 

Instead

There is a deep 

Yearning

Churning

My thoughts 

In foamy waves 

That need Listeners,

Readers, Friends. 

Does a poem exist

With no one to read it?

My poems 

Are made by you

As if my waves 

Found a beach

To crash on. 

There is no quiet 

In me. 

Flying - NaPoWriMo2017 #10

Flying

Flying was the

First thing

That ever

Exhilarated 

And terrified me

In equal measure. 

I remember being 3

Barely held in

By the seat belt

Straining, 

As if I wanted

To fly, myself. 

At 23,

I'm white knuckling it.

Remembering to breathe,

Yet. 

Somehow

Beyond the fear,

The world is beneath me

And somewhere inside

I am still

Straining 

To fly. 

The Coming of Spring - NaPoWriMo2017 #9

The Coming of Spring

Spring springs

My restless heart

And I want to

Outpace the place

Where cherry blossoms go. 

I want a new life

A new me

A new everything

Reborn. 

I am always

Running away

In the Spring

Even if the adventure

Is to

Go Home.  

Smiles - NaPoWriMo2017 #8

Smiles

I think

Smiles sometimes

Are like

Performance art. 

You hone them

To perfection

And practise 

In front of

An audience 

Suspended in disbelief. 

My smiles are masking

An age old weariness. 

And I am very good

At performing. 

But often

My smiles

Don't reach

My eyes. 

(Must practise harder)