anderson-ritchie - Hello Poetry

Of those great moments, the ones where epiphanies occur, be they on the loo, or in the stunning view, they occur more often than not, in solitude.

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May 6, 2015

May 6, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC

Solitude.

Of those great moments, the ones where epiphanies occur, be they on the loo, or in the stunning view, they occur more often than not, in solitude.

6

How many times have you dreamt of her? Wishing, praying, hoping, How many times have you silently sat in a corner? Amidst a crowd of people you know, Longing to be....away..... How often do you look out your window? Often at night to see the few stars That aren't hidden by the cities lights, How many times have you found yourself alone? Sitting in a dark tunnel, No light in any direction, Sinking into despair. How many times have you wanted to escape? How often? Frequently? Intermittently? Rarely? How often? I feel like I'm drowning some days, My burdens weighing me down, Dragging me to the depths, All hope and light fading. It's slow It's painful It's deep It isn't over. This isn't the end of me. And suddenly I can breathe. Fresh and easily. Air. Life. Hope. Something lifted the weight, Someone took my place, This isn't the end of me. It shouldn't be the end of you.

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May 1, 2014

May 1, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC

How many times?

How many times have you dreamt of her? Wishing, praying, hoping, How many times have you silently sat in a corner? Amidst a crowd of people you know, Longing to be....away..... How often do you look out your window? Often at night to see the few stars That aren't hidden by the cities lights, How many times have you found yourself alone? Sitting in a dark tunnel, No light in any direction, Sinking into despair. How many times have you wanted to escape? How often? Frequently? Intermittently? Rarely? How often? I feel like I'm drowning some days, My burdens weighing me down, Dragging me to the depths, All hope and light fading. It's slow It's painful It's deep It isn't over. This isn't the end of me. And suddenly I can breathe. Fresh and easily. Air. Life. Hope. Something lifted the weight, Someone took my place, This isn't the end of me. It shouldn't be the end of you.

36

We shall sleep long into the night, Our bodies stirring from time to time, Our eyes are shut, but we still see a world, We have walked from the wings into the light. Actors on our own stage, The set our own design, The plot our fears, Our deepest desires, A beauteous melody lingers, It fills the air with sweet scents, Vivid colours, flashes here and there. The time seems short, But the story long, The meanings lost at the time, But after you awake, There's only moments to remember, Lest it drift away, Unlikely to be remembered, Forgotten.

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Apr 2, 2014

Apr 2, 2014 at 8:57 AM UTC

Dreams.

We shall sleep long into the night, Our bodies stirring from time to time, Our eyes are shut, but we still see a world, We have walked from the wings into the light. Actors on our own stage, The set our own design, The plot our fears, Our deepest desires, A beauteous melody lingers, It fills the air with sweet scents, Vivid colours, flashes here and there. The time seems short, But the story long, The meanings lost at the time, But after you awake, There's only moments to remember, Lest it drift away, Unlikely to be remembered, Forgotten.

19

An aged battleship retires, A child with a newborn sibling, Last months trends and desires, Or even last years Christmas giftings. Old news. Unfortunate. Used and abused. Neglected. Old ****** news.

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Mar 11, 2014

Mar 11, 2014 at 6:46 AM UTC

Old news!

An aged battleship retires, A child with a newborn sibling, Last months trends and desires, Or even last years Christmas giftings. Old news. Unfortunate. Used and abused. Neglected. Old ****** news.

9

Alone in the dark, I sat reclined, My mind bickering, between thoughts. Questions I have asked Time and again. Each time asked met with a response Different from the last. Oh, How this is very Normal. Festering away, burrowing deep, Exposing ideas long since forgotten. Scintillas of pain here and there, Shame and shock, pride and joy, The entire spectrum of emotions. Dredge up my mind, Till this fertile soil, Until this mind, indeed my soul too, Is firmly planted, Bearing fruit. But what if I should bear a multitude Of fruits!? What then? Was this meant To be? Or is it a defect and I need to start - again?

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Mar 3, 2014

Mar 3, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC

Tree of Life. (Seedlings)

Alone in the dark, I sat reclined, My mind bickering, between thoughts. Questions I have asked Time and again. Each time asked met with a response Different from the last. Oh, How this is very Normal. Festering away, burrowing deep, Exposing ideas long since forgotten. Scintillas of pain here and there, Shame and shock, pride and joy, The entire spectrum of emotions. Dredge up my mind, Till this fertile soil, Until this mind, indeed my soul too, Is firmly planted, Bearing fruit. But what if I should bear a multitude Of fruits!? What then? Was this meant To be? Or is it a defect and I need to start - again?

20

It's in the hours late at night, Early in the morning, When the light is frighteningly absent, That my soul lingers in deep pondering, "How can I be great?" A question with no small, Or simple answer, but I'm relieved at this, Despite my negative thoughts Which flow quite freely at these hours A great person is not without fault. All that I have yearned to achieve, It lies in wait, like a holiday home Waiting to be reached! Although it ***** to have to work, To suffer in something meticulous, Or suffer some slings and arrows Of complete misfortune, Yes, I know this doesn't quite rhyme. But despite all of this, there is hope, And you mightn't see it just yet, But this is the greatest hope!

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Jan 30, 2014

Jan 30, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC

Of Greatness. (Of being Great)

It's in the hours late at night, Early in the morning, When the light is frighteningly absent, That my soul lingers in deep pondering, "How can I be great?" A question with no small, Or simple answer, but I'm relieved at this, Despite my negative thoughts Which flow quite freely at these hours A great person is not without fault. All that I have yearned to achieve, It lies in wait, like a holiday home Waiting to be reached! Although it ***** to have to work, To suffer in something meticulous, Or suffer some slings and arrows Of complete misfortune, Yes, I know this doesn't quite rhyme. But despite all of this, there is hope, And you mightn't see it just yet, But this is the greatest hope!

22

Quite a quandary, Perplexing predicaments, This is the modern day I'm really quite over it, These.... Feelings... How things do change! Out with the old, In with the new, This is the way of the modern age. But that's not my problem, My problem is emotions! How do you cope? How do you survive? Where do you put them? Why does it hurt? Sure, they aren't all bad, But some are definitely ******* There's nothing wrong with feeling, There's nothing wrong with me, There's something in the air, Something that makes me feel anything but free! But the world is not as dull as it was, Nor did I see the colourful beauty, The trees lost their life, The music a little slower, The river a little stagnant, The air a little stale. Day in, Day out. How is this fair? Stressful emotions, Is this right? Fair? Just? It doesn't seem right That these emotions cause stress. Stresses on the soul, Weighing heavily on the heart. My perspective changes! One day it's abrasive, The next is smooth and easy, One is logical, the next is chaotic! For this is my life, Emotions born of experience, Experience produces a reaction, Reaction produces action, Action produces experience. A wheel of emotion and perspective, It alters my life, Day in, Day out.

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Jan 30, 2014

Jan 30, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC

Emotions and perspectives.

Quite a quandary, Perplexing predicaments, This is the modern day I'm really quite over it, These.... Feelings... How things do change! Out with the old, In with the new, This is the way of the modern age. But that's not my problem, My problem is emotions! How do you cope? How do you survive? Where do you put them? Why does it hurt? Sure, they aren't all bad, But some are definitely ******* There's nothing wrong with feeling, There's nothing wrong with me, There's something in the air, Something that makes me feel anything but free! But the world is not as dull as it was, Nor did I see the colourful beauty, The trees lost their life, The music a little slower, The river a little stagnant, The air a little stale. Day in, Day out. How is this fair? Stressful emotions, Is this right? Fair? Just? It doesn't seem right That these emotions cause stress. Stresses on the soul, Weighing heavily on the heart. My perspective changes! One day it's abrasive, The next is smooth and easy, One is logical, the next is chaotic! For this is my life, Emotions born of experience, Experience produces a reaction, Reaction produces action, Action produces experience. A wheel of emotion and perspective, It alters my life, Day in, Day out.

49

Despite my youth, I yearn for my past! To relive some little joyful part of it, To remember and feel such a blast, That it is forever recommitted and I not forget That all I am is borne of those moments! Ah yes, small moments maybe, But a big ripple can be made by a small stone, And times in my life that are happy, Far outweigh those that would see me undone, Keeping me fresh years after they occurred, I wish to travel back! Just for a day!

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Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC

Old Days?

Despite my youth, I yearn for my past! To relive some little joyful part of it, To remember and feel such a blast, That it is forever recommitted and I not forget That all I am is borne of those moments! Ah yes, small moments maybe, But a big ripple can be made by a small stone, And times in my life that are happy, Far outweigh those that would see me undone, Keeping me fresh years after they occurred, I wish to travel back! Just for a day!

12

In my ideal world, There's no you, no them, You see it's my world, A construct of my imagination. A glass of scotch, a piece of swing Blaring for all to hear, Eyes shut, as I'm lounging, My legs rest on the arm, without a care, Small gentle sips, A warm burn, and sensation, Slowly drifting, Away, Away, Away, Away into my own mentality, Imagining my little place of peace, A slight bite of heaven, A taste of something, something just for me. Here, I'm never down-trodden, But cheerful and amazingly, Happy. In the world of a simple scotch And the sound of a piece of swing, Oh that this world would be, Something of a reality. Not too much, not too little, But just right, That'd bring me such delight, If only it lasted a little.

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Aug 12, 2013

Aug 12, 2013 at 12:51 PM UTC

Scotch and Swing.

In my ideal world, There's no you, no them, You see it's my world, A construct of my imagination. A glass of scotch, a piece of swing Blaring for all to hear, Eyes shut, as I'm lounging, My legs rest on the arm, without a care, Small gentle sips, A warm burn, and sensation, Slowly drifting, Away, Away, Away, Away into my own mentality, Imagining my little place of peace, A slight bite of heaven, A taste of something, something just for me. Here, I'm never down-trodden, But cheerful and amazingly, Happy. In the world of a simple scotch And the sound of a piece of swing, Oh that this world would be, Something of a reality. Not too much, not too little, But just right, That'd bring me such delight, If only it lasted a little.

29

Back in the sands of time, Before the voices of the Aenílì sung, And created one and all, Rua'grain' battled with his brothers, and sisters. For two thousand millennia, Rua'grain fought, And it is this that bore the children of evil. Rua'grain defeated, was cast out of immortality Consigned to live a mortal life. Stripped of divinity, he maintained his hold on one power, His voice. For whilst his brothers and sisters sung angelic song, Creating all that was good. He alone sung twisted music, creates spirits of evil, His children. And silently his power and dominion grew!

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Jul 29, 2013

Jul 29, 2013 at 10:37 PM UTC

Rua'grain....

Back in the sands of time, Before the voices of the Aenílì sung, And created one and all, Rua'grain' battled with his brothers, and sisters. For two thousand millennia, Rua'grain fought, And it is this that bore the children of evil. Rua'grain defeated, was cast out of immortality Consigned to live a mortal life. Stripped of divinity, he maintained his hold on one power, His voice. For whilst his brothers and sisters sung angelic song, Creating all that was good. He alone sung twisted music, creates spirits of evil, His children. And silently his power and dominion grew!

15