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Isaac Godfrey Jun 2017
Wonderful town of Whitby, hundreds of marketplaces,
England's own astounding alleys of traditional aces,
Many things this obscure area tends to hide,
the most enjoyable boating docks and brine and quayside.
With cobbled streets aplenty,
Whitby is where I'd like to be,
no matter where on earth,
Whitby is the best for me.
Wonderful town of Whitby, Honour be upon it's history,
But how it's backstory came to be differs as a mystery.
Once upon a supposed legacy of legend and lore,
One quite possibly never seen before.
With it's Mystic vampiric anomaly,
Whitby is certainly my place,
no matter where on earth,
I'd love to be upon this space.
Wonderful town of Whitby, many books wrote about it,
with Whales, abbeys and vampires, it's hard to doubt it,
rare and beautiful creatures, dance within the mist,
Humpback, White and Minkeys on this list.
With it's Whales and sightings,
Whitby is my Sweven,
no matter where on earth,
This town is my Heaven.
The word 'Sweven' is derived from a dialect describing it to be a Dream-like vision, alike a paradise, I attempted to locate more origin and backstory but was unable to find more information on the word. It apperears it comes from old Norse and English.
Isaac Godfrey Jun 2017
Bat within the morning,
basking upon the dawn,
frolicking within the dull red,
as the heavens begin to yawn.
Bat within the skies,
enjoying the lulling breeze,
flitting through the autumn forest,
wandering 'round the trees.
Bat within it's home,
eaten many flies,
hibernate throughout the day,
then take to the skies.
This is a simple piece of literature that follows the delightful routine of a bat traversing the morning lands, heading home.
Isaac Godfrey May 2017
Little Velvety creature.
precious animal friend,
brown ball of soft fur,
Humans think it's all to lend.

Do not harm our delicate companion!
must we always fritter?
alas our friend is decreasing in numbers...
save our cherished critter!

small beloved animal -
now protected in his home,
safe from terrible people -
miniature friend - no longer alone.
A small poem constructed efficiently, I originally wasn't going to make it rhyme, hence it's lack of rhythm.
Isaac Godfrey May 2017
No Sense of Belonging,
No Place to go.
Wander through the night, Wander through the snow.
Wander through the Storms, as it rains so hard.
No Home near, No home far.
Wander the streets and upon the Park,
Wander ‘til the sky goes dark.
They wander past, but they don’t see,
I’ll Never have a place to be.

No place to call Home,
No place to stay.
Wander, fade, till you rot away
Wander so wide, Wander so far,
Wander ‘til thy only memoir
descent to loneliness, reality to stray,
Your only memory, left to Decay.
My first poem. But has only just debuted on this site. built with thoughts of the Homeless.
Isaac Godfrey May 2017
An iron fence stands,
Hurting those that dare pass it,
Now we must turn back.
Isaac Godfrey May 2017
Once upon a time forgotten,
on a shore where’st memories be rotten,
a foul salt lies upon the waters of life,
a distant thought of a lasting strife.

But that is the past, and though it shall remain,
become mindful, become present - peaceful and sane,
without the past, with present, it is your future that you save,
peace upon these sands and ocean! grief gone like a wave.

Although it still exists, The brine not sincere,
it is not a problem any longer, not a problem here.
A tale of pain, as your past memories haunt you, sometimes it's time to let your mind be swept away by the waves.
Isaac Godfrey May 2017
Steam, Heat, sweltering mechanisms at work,
cogs, collected, combined, creating copper cirque,
wheels rotating, furnaces incinerating, gears moving at busy speed,
circulating, building, crafting, machines making what we need,
Tubes pump Scarlet Liquid, contraptions clank and ratchets clink,
as I ponder - what all the parts do, one requires to think.
Parts seldom give up, nor contraptions shirking,
but this wonder, marvel, machine, is the human body working.
A poem I wrote with not much though until I contemplated just how many mechanisms we conceal - just within ourselves! Then I really got thinking, Constantly, without end, our furnaces, our kilns, our production lines, never stop building what we need, there's a whole foundry within us, a factory, contained within.

— The End —