Richard Graydon

Richard Graydon Sep 2021

Sun

Deep blue burns the sky,
a gentle gust of known nothings
The sun sat; denying to fly.
Today was its lazy day.
“Oh dear sun, why won’t you try,
the air longs for your warmth”

A tired sun looks down
chuckles a little,
And rolls over.

This started as a poem about the colour blue.

Richard Graydon Aug 2021

Not Today

Grey walls surround the world;
A dull, dimmed, damp view.
The feeling of entrapment passes me,
My neutrality fuels the madness.
The walls bled together,
their shade shifts around.
Rain falls upon my eyes,
the tears streak alone.
Today was not my day;
nor will tomorrow be.

I hope, wait, pray,
for the sun to come and play.

I don’t have many extreme feelings or emotions right now. I just feel mild and neutral and I try to express that through the poem.

Richard Graydon Aug 2021

Winter

The forest is silent this time of year.
It’s leaves,
shake no more.
The birds,
all left for warmer skies.
Just lonesome giants,
their empty cries.

I wave to the forest,
It waves back.

The style of poetry I have been writing has gotten shorter and shorter to where I can’t think past line 4. So imma try to write longer more descriptive poems. I also tried using spacing to slow this poem down.

Richard Graydon Jul 2021

You

You’re grace, you’re beauty,
A feat only a few achieve.
What do you see in me, me?

This was written as a birthday gift to a friend, and is my attempt at a haiku. Unfortunately I failed, with it having a 5,7,6 syllable pattern and not a 5,7,5 pattern. Hopefully they won’t realise.

After a while, on the 6th of February 2022 I figured out a way to make this a “proper” haiku and fit the 7,5,7 pattern

Richard Graydon Jul 2021

Crash

Your hate is strong,
Lie littered little girl.
With you, turns good wrong,
I grow stronger alone.

This is supposed to be a counter to my poem Crush. It’s an awaken and realisation that “false love” and crushes only distort what’s true. This is supposed to be the “truth”.

Richard Graydon Jul 2021

Forced.

This is forced, my notes- Blank.
My plans- Numb. I drive my Will.
It weeps words, the pen I shank.
The ink I spill,
A heightened thrill.

i write short poems now simply because i can’t think any further. this one has some attempted symbolism, with the pen and book mentioned somehow being me? i don’t know, i felt like i needed to write a poem so i did. i

Richard Graydon Apr 2021

Fight

The clock flows slow,
My heart stops beating,
This new low.
Shhhh, you’re interrupting the weeping.
Your time is fleeting,
Your mind is screaming,
You won’t, you can’t!
Don’t look. Don’t feel.
Whatever you do stop the heal.
Don’t kneel, fight. Fight, Fight.

Lol this was written because I was bored at chemistry.