hannahalex-moody - Hello Poetry

As the warmth of the sunlight lightly kissed my cheeks, I began to sob. Of the realization of today's events intoxicated my mind. I pressed two fingers against the corner of a cross - Inscribed into the wall by a fellow Conrad. Who had also disobeyed, who had broken the rules. Maybe they had committed mutiny Or cowardice, or desertion. Perhaps they were scared, Perhaps they'd had enough, Perhaps they just missed home. We can only ever guess now, Because dawn came and the pole stood tall. Killed by their own. Friendly fire. Who were also suffering and traumatized. But for the act they were about to commit Would not take it to the extremes that I had. Or any of the people that had abused these 4walls before me. Which one of them would do it? What final blow would cause the end to my life? Because for all of us it was never really if we died. Instead the question was when. My name is Herbert Morris I am 17 years old. I fought in the British West Indies Regiment, until The date is 20th September 1917. And today is the day. For I had escaped But they found me.

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Mar 4, 2013

Mar 4, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC

Private Herbert Morris

As the warmth of the sunlight lightly kissed my cheeks, I began to sob. Of the realization of today's events intoxicated my mind. I pressed two fingers against the corner of a cross - Inscribed into the wall by a fellow Conrad. Who had also disobeyed, who had broken the rules. Maybe they had committed mutiny Or cowardice, or desertion. Perhaps they were scared, Perhaps they'd had enough, Perhaps they just missed home. We can only ever guess now, Because dawn came and the pole stood tall. Killed by their own. Friendly fire. Who were also suffering and traumatized. But for the act they were about to commit Would not take it to the extremes that I had. Or any of the people that had abused these 4walls before me. Which one of them would do it? What final blow would cause the end to my life? Because for all of us it was never really if we died. Instead the question was when. My name is Herbert Morris I am 17 years old. I fought in the British West Indies Regiment, until The date is 20th September 1917. And today is the day. For I had escaped But they found me.

29

You stole him from me. He was mine And you reached out and took him. Like he was the last cookie on a plate. That was my last cookie. It was in my hand And you still took it. You didn’t even want it You didn’t want him You just used and abused him. And then I had to patch him up As if he were mine again. But he wasn’t. Was he? Because you stole him from me I thought he was mine I spoke to him, as I was intoxicated. Drunk in love. Watching as his hair fell onto his face The way he spoke. And smiled that smile The way he held his hands In front of his chest when he spoke But I don’t get to enjoy this anymore Because they aren’t my hands anymore Not my hair, not my smile They’re yours! Because you stole him from me.

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Feb 20, 2013

Feb 20, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC

You Stole Him From Me.

You stole him from me. He was mine And you reached out and took him. Like he was the last cookie on a plate. That was my last cookie. It was in my hand And you still took it. You didn’t even want it You didn’t want him You just used and abused him. And then I had to patch him up As if he were mine again. But he wasn’t. Was he? Because you stole him from me I thought he was mine I spoke to him, as I was intoxicated. Drunk in love. Watching as his hair fell onto his face The way he spoke. And smiled that smile The way he held his hands In front of his chest when he spoke But I don’t get to enjoy this anymore Because they aren’t my hands anymore Not my hair, not my smile They’re yours! Because you stole him from me.

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I often find myself in wonderland Talking to cheshire cats And rabbits in waistcoats I feel normal here, For nothing is normal here. The land is peculiar And the earth feels unstable I wish to leave this obscure place I wish to go home. Then I am brought back to reality My wishes have been granted And I have found what I was looking for. Yet now it seems unwanted I feel unnormal here For everything is normal here I wish for cheshire cats And rabbits in waistcoats A place where I can be accepted And explore. I wish for adventures With strange creatures that can only be imagined A place that seems like a dream And is full of dreams. Where a mushroom can cause a change of perspective Where hatters are mad And the queen has no heart. A wonderful land I often find myself reminiscing Talking of cheshire cats And rabbits in waistcoats Of a place where I seemed normal For everything was unnormal I wish for a land that is peculiar And the earth feels unstable I wish for wonderland.

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Feb 14, 2013

Feb 14, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC

A wonderful land, called Wonderland

I often find myself in wonderland Talking to cheshire cats And rabbits in waistcoats I feel normal here, For nothing is normal here. The land is peculiar And the earth feels unstable I wish to leave this obscure place I wish to go home. Then I am brought back to reality My wishes have been granted And I have found what I was looking for. Yet now it seems unwanted I feel unnormal here For everything is normal here I wish for cheshire cats And rabbits in waistcoats A place where I can be accepted And explore. I wish for adventures With strange creatures that can only be imagined A place that seems like a dream And is full of dreams. Where a mushroom can cause a change of perspective Where hatters are mad And the queen has no heart. A wonderful land I often find myself reminiscing Talking of cheshire cats And rabbits in waistcoats Of a place where I seemed normal For everything was unnormal I wish for a land that is peculiar And the earth feels unstable I wish for wonderland.

35

Her face is beginning to waste away But nobody noticed that she’s been vacant for days Soulless, empty, dull inside Everyday ends and starts teary-eyed The cuts on her wrist now too many to count All because society pushed her out.

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Feb 14, 2013

Feb 14, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC

Nothing.

Her face is beginning to waste away But nobody noticed that she’s been vacant for days Soulless, empty, dull inside Everyday ends and starts teary-eyed The cuts on her wrist now too many to count All because society pushed her out.

6

Sometimes all it takes it a day, For your mind to leave and run away. People laugh and call you depressed When really all your emotions are suppressed. You pack your bags and leave From all the people that are trying to thieve.

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Feb 14, 2013

Feb 14, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC

Depression is madness.

Sometimes all it takes it a day, For your mind to leave and run away. People laugh and call you depressed When really all your emotions are suppressed. You pack your bags and leave From all the people that are trying to thieve.

6

London. January. 7:45pm A bench possessed by a single gem Thinking obsessing over a single thought. Of the last argument they ever fought. The saxophone player blowing his tune. His only audience the shining moon. Trying to earn some last needed dough Wondering why he even puts on this dumb show The other street acts already home Now he stands, alone. Southbank market nears to an end Time runs out between two friends. The spark has gone- the light is out Now every mind is filled with doubt. Her mind starts to wander as she contemplates On all the things she has to complicate A kiss, a hug, a humorous lie Did they even try? Her eyes start to fill with the water of a tear She fails to keep her mind clear. She stands up and leaves Walks away. She doesn’t know where she’s going Or why. Or how. Or how long she can postpone But she still walked. Alone.

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Feb 12, 2013

Feb 12, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC

London.

London. January. 7:45pm A bench possessed by a single gem Thinking obsessing over a single thought. Of the last argument they ever fought. The saxophone player blowing his tune. His only audience the shining moon. Trying to earn some last needed dough Wondering why he even puts on this dumb show The other street acts already home Now he stands, alone. Southbank market nears to an end Time runs out between two friends. The spark has gone- the light is out Now every mind is filled with doubt. Her mind starts to wander as she contemplates On all the things she has to complicate A kiss, a hug, a humorous lie Did they even try? Her eyes start to fill with the water of a tear She fails to keep her mind clear. She stands up and leaves Walks away. She doesn’t know where she’s going Or why. Or how. Or how long she can postpone But she still walked. Alone.

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