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10W
Josh Morter Apr 2013
10W
Poignancy is a myth
and myths aren't spoken.
They're written.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

first 10w. thought I'd give it a go? feedback appreciated.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
coping? not.
crying. shoulder.
comfort? got.
friend. there.
always. found.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

another 10 word attempt...
Josh Morter Apr 2013
Love is a four letter word.
El.
Oh.
Vee.
E.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

third attempt at 10 word poem: would appreciate feedback. (enjoying the constraints this task brings)
Josh Morter Apr 2013
steps were heard
they became distant
she had left me.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

really enjoying this 10 word poem thing, cant believe it has taken me this long to jump on the bandwagon... but I am enjoying the ride.
20W
Josh Morter Apr 2013
20W
The mundanity takes its toll
nothing to do whilst in this hole
Boredom ensues and fun departs
I hate this.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

Thought I'd step up a notch and do a 20word poem.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
Tried to send some proper flowers
Went to post them, it didn't work.
Just left there waiting.
Petals strewn around me, felt like a right berk.
So here's the best I could manage to send you a birthday wish
Just some folded up paper in a flower shape
Oh yeh an a kiss... X
Written on 19/04/13 by Josh Morter ©

This was written to go along with an image of a homemade origami flower to send a birthday wish... to give a personal touch.
It went down well (I think)
Josh Morter May 2013
Aggravation.
Agitation
Unable to let it go.

Assessing the situation,
incase it comes to blows.

Choosing words wisely.
There can be no slip of the tongue.

Counting down from one to ten,
it's like Russian roulette
without a gun.

Back pushed up against the wall
a face within your space

He says "give me all your dough!"
You say "you shouldn't have done that.
No. Oh no. Oh no."


Then
Wham!
Thwack!
Biff!
Boom!
Clatter goes this guy

Walking away from a confrontation becomes hard when you're a spy.
written on 07/05/13 by Josh Morter ©

Love all the comic book words for covering up a punch. decided to use some of them in a poem. This is the result.
Josh Morter May 2013
"Friends"
so you've known them for years
but have they kept in touch
I mean they've seen your tears
but so have many films.

who keeps in contact?
regardless of: mileage, county, country or continent?
Not many people pick a pen write you a note send it direct to your address.

It's irregular
it's not normal
it's not the thing to do.
Often I just think some people expect that you will call
but how long would they wait before contacting you at all.
I'm not being despondent
I'm not being obtuse
I'm just saying that it happens some friends never contact you.
You'll always be the one to say
"Yo dude, I'm back at home"
as if you didn't make a conscious effort you'd probably spend your time alone.

Now that is just one case scenario
I mean; others you never see
can bump into you on the street one time
and reconnect instantly.
It may have been a month or more since you spoke to them last
It could have even been years ago since a conversation was had.

But a friend can be many things
They can live far far away from you
Or literally down the street
They may never be the one to contact you, yet are always up for a meet
They may always insist on paying or scrounge as much as they can get
They may always need the shoulder to cry on but never hear your woes
Each friendship is different, dependant on the people I suppose.
Written on 10/05/13 by Josh Morter
Josh Morter Feb 2013
A friend can be many things;
Someone whose, close at hand
Someone who, will always help you
through troubles you can't stand.
Can't bare to face ,
Don't want to speak of.
These are the friends that dreams are made of.
But also friends can be made up of memories from the past.
Those strong enough to stand the test of time...
those memories that last
So even if you have a friend, someone whose life may not cross your path
You can still always think back on the times.
the times they made you laugh
Because what are friends for, other than to cheer you up when in need.
As if they are able to do it from a distance,
that is a true friend indeed.
Written on 31/01/13 by Josh Morter ©

Wrote this after receiving some news that made me think about memories of a close family friend.
Josh Morter Mar 2013
There was once a small ape called Peter
He was brown like the trees in your yard
He had a few spikey hairs on the top of his head
And thousands upon thousands on his arms

He wasn't just your ordinary ape though
He had big bushy eyebrows
And deep dark green eyes
He was shorter than other apes
But he didn't mind

Because he knew he was special
His mother told him so
She told him every single day
Before he would go to leave
Leave to go to ape school
To study his Ape Bee Seas

He often wondered whether,
one day she would stop
Then one day his mother did
That was once he'd grown up

And now he is a big ape he longs to hear those words
So when your mother repeats something
It's so it sinks in
and you never forget what they've told you
So pay attention and listen.
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Mar 2013
A solitary seagull sits bobbing on the waves
the waves culminate together and generate cascades
The seagull stays determined he will not be dragged down
yet one little misjudgment of a wave and this poor fellow will drown.
Written on 15/03/13 by Josh Morter ©

Walking along the promenade in Bisceglie, Italy I saw a single seagull sat on a wave. Painted this image in my head.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
From a distance her beauty shone like the embers of a fire
each curve of her face,
each strand of her hair,
glowing and glistening with a warmth incomparable to anything else.

Her eyes; mysterious,
giving off a twinkle that only a hidden gem buried in the dust could exude.
Powerful.
Bright,
but beautiful even though encased by filth.

Moving closer her beauty shone brighter.
The embers of her fire
igniting and setting flame to something deep within.
So deep it had never been graced by such warmth and beauty.
She had lit a fire in my heart.
Written on 02/04/13 by Josh Morter ©

Been a while since I updated something. This is another recent write. Subject matter self explanatory.
Josh Morter Feb 2013
A frail old man wanders aimlessly along the boardwalk of a deserted beach
Hunched over like the the boughs of an oak tree weighed down by its branches
Things burden this man.
Heavy in weight on mind and body

Once swarming with tourists in a way similar to flies around a porch light this beach is now dank and dismal to the eye
The preconceptions of flashing lights and rowdy parties filling its strip just reside as a distant memory in the depth of the deep blue.
On which he gazes out to after taking a long wheezing breath into his shrivelled lungs.

He stands alone reminiscing about previous conquests from his long distant youth
Thinking about all his relationships with friends and loved ones
Perusing through his memory bank as of he were a granddad proudly giving a slideshow to his only grandchild
And as a tear slowly trickles down his weathered face he reconciles with himself that like seeing the last copy of an acclaimed novel being sold he definitely let the one get away.

As this fact dawns on him, knowing he shall always be alone
He takes a deliberate pace towards the steps leading to the sandy wasteland that used to be so glorious and golden.
Gradually picking up speed and stumbling over himself he makes the journey to the edge of the water

Fully aware of the desire that is overtaking his mind, body and soul
The sea begins to seep into his shoes then dampens the tip of his trousers
Now with the water up to his waist he is shivering and struggling to catch his breath
But onwards he walks becoming stronger as he battles the waves cascading against his body.

Is this really what it has come to,
but as the last strand of his silky grey hair disappears into the salty blue
He feels the weight of the past float away and he is at peace
The water has cleansed his soul, rinsed his mind
Deep in the depths of the sea shall his regrets remain forever.
And as his body floats to the surface his soul rises higher and higher up to the clouds

Reaching the end his eyes catch a glimpse through the pearly whiteness
Of a silhouette he recognises
It stands facing away seeming to exude beauty like a single rose in hand of a romantic gesture
When he steps through the gates
The silhouette senses his presence and turns
He knows in that moment, he has made it
He is in Heaven.
Written on 22/02/13 by Josh Morter ©

I wrote this whilst on a journey; for no reason other than seeing the sea. I think I wrote for an hour and then stopped. Still unsure on name, but can't think of another one.
Josh Morter Mar 2013
Along a secluded street a light dimly flickers upon the porch beneath
The chair swing creaks as the breeze flows past
as the leaves fall gently to the ground from the solitary tree laying central on the grass
Footsteps can be heard, in the background amidst the autumn gloom

The street is still, it's apparent that no life has been here for some time
But still the sounds of the street linger like it was only yesterday when families, cars and pets were present

A storm came raging through many years ago, the town has been left dormant since
No one had dared to go, to view the devastation left behind from all the chaos

Yet now a women looks upon it, the footsteps heard were hers
She's remembering all the sights and sounds that once filled the street
A strange expression draws across her face as if she is in pain
But she's just remembering the storm that came with thunder lightning and rain

It rained for what seemed a century and floods waged war on the trees
When lightning struck the houses it brought them to their knees
The thunder rocked the neighbourhood as it was the first sign of the storm
But as this woman stood alone the street just looked forlorn.

Only one living thing survived the desecration of this town
and now she was here one last time to lay the past to rest
She was reliving the horrifying ordeal
but all in her best interest

The experience had effected her way deep within her soul
The life she was living now was incomplete
She wanted to forget it all and move on with her life
But as she stood there taking it in
She realised
The memories of this town were only in her head, and once she wiped them from her
The town truly would be dead.

Because her memories kept it living
Her memories have the ability to
shine a light upon the porch
Show parents on the chair swing
and children climbing the tree.
The past will remain through the power of her memory.
Written on 08/03/12 by Josh Morter ©

Unsure about this one, I think the direction switched mid poem.
Josh Morter May 2013
At night
the sky
becomes
dank
dark
mysterious and shaded

At night
the sounds
become
loud
long
inconsistent and screechy

At night the sights
become
gruesome
ghoulish
nightmarish and scary

At night
The room
becomes
cold
creepy
unwelcoming and stale

Night night
Sleep tight
don't let the bed bugs
bite.
Written on 03/05/13 by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Feb 2013
Given grief and condescension
for the pleasure of a trip
Down spoken, down trodden
Trying to get to grips
Don't really need to take this ****,
It's been blown out of proportion
How can you tell me where I went wrong
Get the ******* your throne
And try listening to our song
We are trying our hardest,
We are working for your gain,
If you do not want to respect us,
That has been made plain
But we are here
For a reason and that reason still remains
So let us get on with our job
And not hear you complain, complain complain.
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Jan 2013
With you beside me, I know that I can't come to any harm
With you close at hand, I know that I will always be warm
With you wrapped around me, I know that I'll be safe
You are my Comfort Blanket and next to me is your place
With my hand, I feel your softness and feel tenderness towards you
With my eyes, I see you beauty and sense you don't agree at all
But you're my Comfort Blanket and you don't know what I see
I see a beautiful person with whom I feel safe, I feel the warmth that we share whenever we embrace
I know that I'll never let you come to harm
Because you, my comfort blanket belong upon my arm
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter May 2013
A kiss
A cuddle
such simple acts to give
Yet
Each one is a contract
and here's what they entail

the kiss is an obligation
It's a choice you choose to take
The person offers themselves up
By leaning 90% of the way
You're then given the choice;
to oblige and accept their kiss
or give them that 10% of dignity to walk away and add this as an experience near missed

the cuddle however
also known as a hug
is a place in which
no words are said
and no feelings are emote'd
it's a silent contract stating
this is for here and now.
it's not something that lingers
Or takes your breath away.
well it shouldn't.
That is if you're
doing it right anyway

But a cuddle can be powerful
when nothing else is uttered
it's a way to get out all your angst
and clean your emotional gutters
then once you have relinquished your arms from around the other one
That's it the contracts over,
well until the next one.
Written on the 03/05/13 by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Mar 2015
the sound of the wind is a lullaby
sang by each and every blade of grass
their voices so distinctive no noise can they amass.                                        
Except omitting the motion of movement in the wind,
they play a silent lullaby to echo in the dawn of spring.
walking through London today took a moment to relax on the grass in St James Park before work. Wasn't the warmest of days but felt nice to tune in with nature even if just briefly.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
First thing in the morning
Last thing late at night
It something I can't shake off
But wouldn't want to
Despite, the fact I'm not sleeping
The fact I'm still awake
It's a longing feeling that lingers everyday
But the thought of anything else on my mind
Scares me even more
If I let this fade out
Where will it reside
Shall it plague someone else's mind
I don't want to find
I lose all that I am wanting
I lose what I don't have
What is there really to lose, other than this feeling driving me mad
I just wish it was happiness that kept me from my bed
Not the unknowing doubt that flows through my head
Will it ever be so, or is this my destined fate
Am I ever to find out, can I beat the wait?
Waiting means more time
Left alone with my mind
But if she is the soul thought
I can get used to thoughts of that kind
Because its the only time I see her
That's the only time she is mine
Other than that what am I?
I'm not even a bit on the side
Surely it shouldn't hurt this much being in love if it is our goal
Yet why does this non reciprocated love leave such a gaping hole?
I feel like I am lying to myself and it never really was that good
But then I think about it and think No. Of course it was
How could it not be real, surely noone is that mean
But then circumstances rule some people, others change their fate
If it was worthwhile to them, I'd probably not have to wait
2012 poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Feb 2013
Heaven is up
Hell is down
She'll send you crazy
He'll send you round

Up are the birds
Up is the sky
Up theres a rainbow
Up there I can fly

Down with angst
Down with deceit
Down with rules
Down to a beat

Crazy in love
Crazy like me
Crazy for you
Crazy, crazy.

Round the twist
Round the bend
Round the corner
And round again

Heaven is up
Hell is down
She'll send you crazy
He'll send you round.
Written on 13/02/13 by Josh Morter ©

Another random ramble from yet another night of little sleep...
Josh Morter Apr 2013
I am
Bloated.
Stuffed.
Full to the brim
with feelings.

I am
Alone.
Deserted.
Nowhere near my home
tears streaming.

I am
Shivering.
Cold.
Left out
no warmth to help.

I am
Crumbling.
Caving.
Falling apart
with no-one but myself.

I am
Losing.
Failing.
Giving in
it must stop now.

I am*
Going.
Leaving.
The departure gates open
Final Bow.
Written on 29/04/13 by Josh Morter ©

No idea why I wrote something so dreary I am actually currently very upbeat... maybe I subconsciously wanted to Juxtapose.
Josh Morter May 2013
Sat waiting the lights glare piercing and penetrating through my closed lids
Unaware of the hand tenderly caressing my fingertips
The warmth passes over them like a pause in the summer breeze
It's like I am not alone, this hand will not release
It will not release me from it's clinging grip
it's distance shall not decrease.
Forever it shall remain
My support.
Written on 20/03/13 by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Mar 2013
I’m gonna need a shoulder
to cry on
Gonna need a shoulder
to rely on
I’m gonna need some shelter
to keep me safe and dry
Gonna need that place to lie
the lonely hours away,
For longer than a day
Gonna need a forever love
A love that lasts
A passion, a craft
A person for whom I hunger
A person to fill my greed
That person who I need
I need to mend my heart
A heart you tore apart
A hole that should be filled
A decision that shouldn’t be mulled
Mulled over in the dark
A decision of the heart
I decided it wasn’t you
But I always knew, who
The who that would give me
that shoulder that I need
The passion they could feed
it was obvious in my eyes
My love for you was disguised
behind the eyes of a lie.
That was set deep inside.
I had the one in my mind
I just had to find a way
to release my anguish
and need for my other
My one true...
My Forever Lover.
2010 poem by Josh Morter ©

Another poem from an old book... Written sometime in early to mid 2010.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
One Summer
One Autumn
One Winter
One Spring

The Summer brings the sun
in which we bask in its golden glory

The Autumn shows a change of colour
from a golden to a crispy brown.
The colour of each fallen leaf that lays
upon the ground

The Winter gives us a cold bite,
a brisk chill within the air.
The leaves now reside under ice.
So pedestrians.
Be Aware!

The Spring shows us signs of Summer
and gives Winter the heave **.
Autumn becomes almost reversed
as leaves and blossom start to grow.

So each of the four seasons
brings a change within the weather
but you can't just have your preferred season. Because in England
they all arrive together.
Written on 29/04/13 by Josh Morter ©

failing at my attempt to sleep so writing about what comes into my head... That being 'Weather' apparently.  Current weather is Dark.
Josh Morter Mar 2013
If I died would you shed a tear?
If I cried would you be near?
If I was hurt would you nurse me to health?
If I was poor would you share your wealth?
If I loved you would you love me too?
If I was feeling down would you be feeling blue?
If we ever argued would you still be my friend?
If you would our Friendship will never end.
2004 poem by Josh Morter ©

This was written a fair few years ago around 2004 maybe but still keeps the same feeling attached.
Josh Morter Jan 2013
Once upon a time in the land of Flynn
Lived the happy little elf called George
Now George was no ordinary elf
He had bright orange hair and bushy little beard
And he spoke in the language BLUB
Now Flynn was a marvellous town
With trees and rivers all around
But then one day the trees went away
And left little George feeling down
He hoped and dreamed
For what it seemed
Only a miracle could cure
But by the end of the day the trees came home to stay
And promised to stray no more
So the elf called George was happy again
And in the those trees he would play
But those sneaky little trees are trees who tease
And were only play hide and seek that day.
2010 poem by Josh Morter ©

this was a short poem I wrote for an audition to tour schools around Manchester whilst at University. So aimed very much at children
Josh Morter Jun 2013
living ‘lovelessly’ and longing for more
looking at couples through every window or door
looking for that one I can call my own
looking for those arms in which I’d be at home
looking for that special feeling called love
waiting for my angel to fall from above
waiting to find her, be it today or tomorrow
I'm having trouble coping with this lonely sorrow
the sorrow that sits deep within my heart
and hoping for the feeling of love to start
to start with a glance across a crowded room
for the whole room to fade out
and too shoot us too the moon
where we stare longingly into each others eyes
with the stars gleaming across the picturesque skies
this would be the moment I would feel love
the feeling that lifts you high up above
to a place were lonely can't reach
to a place where no ground is beneath
to a place where everything glows
to a place where all my happiness grows
grows up within me
from my head to my feet
sends me skipping joyfully down the street
singing along to no music at all
dancing around in the cafeteria hall
I do not mind what others may say
but having this meeting has made my day
my week my month my year
I now no longer have to fear
the loneliness that engulfed me everyday when alone
the feeling I would have just stumbling home
knowing that no one would greet me by my door
but these feelings I have no more
because I have found her the love of my life
and someday she may be my wife
and when that day comes too the moon again we will go
and just like before... everything will Glow.
Written by Josh Morter

wrote this a while ago now, maybe even years but just came across it and feel it has moments in which have recently been replicated in my newer poems. Made me decide to upload.
Josh Morter Jan 2013
Grumpy ****, grumpy ***
There's no need to feel this way
Turn your frown upside down
and get on with your day
I may not be there to cheer you up
but God I'll try my hardest
I'll send as many kisses and as many hugs as I can
Just try to stop being a grumpy ****
Missus Grumpy ***.
Written on 27/09/12 by Josh Morter ©

Short poem I sent to try cheer up someone up because they were having a tough day and I didn't want them to be moody.
Josh Morter Mar 2013
Throughout life people will show you love
love from one another,love from above
from those who have moved on and those who still linger
within my heart and sometimes wander,
through my head and in my mind
knowing that they're safe inside
in my thoughts whilst layed in bed
in my heart whilst making zed's
and, though I'm asleep I can still feel
that all knowing eye watching over
thinking of me, and keeping me safe
knowing with it watching me I'm in a good place.
this eye also has a voice
a well known voice, to which I might add
this voice I speak of happens to be My Dad.

My Dad.
My Daddy.
My ***
MY HERO

just imagining being with him makes me feel so high
like a fluttering starling floating across a sunlit sky
it makes me feel warm and stops me being mad
this is where I go to when I feel sad, when I feel aggressive or need to feel glad
glad that I have something to achieve
to make my dad proud of me
because he believed,
I could do anything that could make him proud
but I want to impress him and shout it out loud
I want to say that my dad was the best
he helps me through everything although he's not there
I can feel his presence in the air
it runs through me because he is my warmth
he is my idol
he is my king
his is what i believe in

I will meet with him again one day
Him.
my Dad.
My Daddy.
My ***.
**MY HERO
2009 poem by Josh Morter ©

just found this poem after a clear out think written sometime early 2009.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
Her warmth exhumes me
I** am now complete
She's everything
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter May 2013
P** sychological perturbed by a fear of here and now
A gitated and on edge , weary of those around
N ever settled in any given circumstance
I ntimidated and full of worry, fear and
C autiousness, that is hidden behind a bravado.
Written on 05/05/13 by Josh Morter ©

random rambling whilst wasting the hours of a bank holiday Monday.
Josh Morter Feb 2013
If love was a hat, I'd wear it
If love was a sweet, I'd share it
If love was cold, I'd keep it warm
If love was homeless, I'd shelter it

If love got angry, I'd calm it down
If love was sad, I'd turn the frown around
If love got ill, I'd restore its health
If love was poor, I'd share my wealth
If love felt grief ,I'd give it my shoulder

If love asked me for anything,
If love requested a single ring.
If love wished for a happily ever after.
If love desired just one small kiss.
If love wanted me, I wouldn't miss
the chance for love to be returned

**I will leave no stone unturned.
Written on 14/02/13 by Josh Morter ©

Seen as its valentines day I felt like I should at least slightly get into the spirit... My latest attempt at a romantic poem.
Josh Morter Mar 2015
Living the dream or so it seems
Riding the waves, cascade after cascade
Jumping through hoops,
going round loop de loop,
like a roller-coaster
Believing you've got closer
To what:
you're supposed to do.
what you,
perceive to be
what you,
intend to see.
Knowing that, this is your goal.
The thing that drives your soul.
To reach to the sky,
stretch up to the stars,
float upon the clouds,
make yourself proud.

Because this is your dream.
it's something that means,
everything to you.
there's nothing that you wouldn't do, to reach the heights of success.
Continue to achieve your best.
Push through till there's nothing left.

Because this is a passion, a craft, a choice.
Don't listen to nay sayers,
down players,
people who say:
This isn't the way to go,
this is something you should know.
And it is something you know.
Why wouldn't you.
It's drummed into you day after day,
you get used to the people being that way,
it's a hard business.

Okay, okay
I get what you're trying to say but I don tell you day after day;
That your job is monotonous.
A corporate chain,
whose only aim
is more money to gain,
from your daily pain
of trying to maintain the face of joy
when your boss walks by
and asks how it's going.
With a nod all knowing you reply
"It's going great Mr Johnson."

Yet in your head you weep
And wish to retreat, back to the age when you could openly phrase a strong affirming gesture.
A finger raised to the sky,
Stating ******* and goodbye.

But you don't.
You nod and say "yes"
Cause that is your best
There's no passion inside you.
No craft that will drive you, to achieve.
So stop for a minute and believe
Believe in the strength of desire in your heart
let me take my path, leave me alone and then start on your own.
Another poem from a year or so ago, this one in regards to the lifestyle choice I have chosen and how people have no right to discredit you for a choice that is yours to make.
Josh Morter Mar 2013
Within my room theres very little for a descriptive imagination
just a canvas shelfing unit, a single bed and a bag.
I would go on and on but that is all that I have.
The bed that I sit upon is without a duvet cover.
the pillowcase doesn't match the sheet but alas I have no other.
The walls are bare and lifeless with no colour aire in sight.
The light within the room flickers, like a lampost awaiting the night.
The canvas shelfing unit that above I did foremention,
has a ricketty frame and needs some; careful love and attention.
it has a certain character. like a frail hunchbacked old man
unable to fully stand up straight but trying the best he can.
The bag is sat dormant in the middle of the room, it makes it feel lived in
and homely, I presume.
Yet every night I enter here and feel a sense of despair
but what am I supposed to do
when that is all that I have there.
2012 poem by Josh Morter ©

Write this when I was living in a random small room for a while.
Josh Morter Apr 2013
Longing dearly for her caress
Her soft touch along my chest
fingers entwined like they were one.
I miss her.

Wishing for this time to pass
Yearning for her here at last
So I am there to keep her safe
I'm heading home.


Planning for that moment when,
It's just the two of us,
alone again.
A soft whisper in her ear,
telling her things she longs to hear
I need her.

Wishing for this time to pass
Yearning for her here at last
So I am there to keep her safe
I 'm heading home.


Hurriedly knocking on the door
Bags beside my feet on the floor
A key
jangles in the lock,
I take a moment.
Stop!

I  SEE HER

Finally
taking that strong embrace
Her eyes shine like stars in space
Her cheeks are cold, yet her lips are warm
I kiss her.

I would never wish this time to pass
Yet back on duty I'm needed fast
Until the next time I journey home
**I love her.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

New poem: It dawned on me whilst watching a film recently that I couldn't imagine what it must be like on that journey home from war to a loved one. I tried to think how I would feel, so decided to write about it. Unsure this encapsulates such a powerful feeling fully. It's my attempt. Appreciate feedback and criticism.
Josh Morter Mar 2013
When you gaze at the whole picture taking in the decision of each brush stroke,
each flick of the wrist, each speck of paint has been purposefully placed.
It's there to complete the image.
To finalise the composition.
If a stroke goes wrong, into the background it eventually fades.
To the unbeknownst onlooker
it's looks impeccably done
But there shall always be a mistake there and highly likely more than one.
Yet it's there for a reason, to add some dark and shade
to the light and masterful creation.
A creation we've all made.
Written on 26/03/13 by Josh Morter ©

Short poem,  began to think about the big picture and its significance on a day to day basis.
Josh Morter Feb 2013
I leave for a while and try to look ahead
But there's this little voice saying remember what you've left
There's always something that resides at the back of my mind.
It's constant.
It's you.
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Apr 2013
When the sunshine glares through a crack in the blind
Draw open the ******* and look upon mankind.
Its there.
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Feb 2013
Procrastinate to irritate
Aggravate to agitate
Treading on thin ice
Are these malingering time wasters of life

Festering in ignorance
Frolicking in abstinence
Wading in their excrement are these malingering time wasters of life.

Arrogance in abundance
Subtlety null and void
Unwittingly self confident are these malingering time wasters of life

Belligerent in the face of peace
Weary to face their fears
Blasé about things that matter are these malingering time wasters of life

Malingering becomes
Mal'ignorance
Mal'ignorance becomes M'alone
Therefore the malingering time wasters shall forever this earth roam.
Written on 21/02/13 by Josh Morter ©

I wrote this after a friend said the word 'malingering' and I thought it had been a long time since I had heard it so therefore decided I had to write a poem to use the word.
Josh Morter Jan 2013
I remember the times we had
the love between us
a dad and his son
fooling around and having fun
the football games in the hall
the family holidays
the time we got stuck in the snow
family holidays in Scarborough
playing football with the club
playing football in the hall
with a spongy ball
a bust old door for a goal
Christmas’s at my aunties
playing Pictionary
the parents were really competitive
them times have passed now
and I know it will never be the same
dads died and I can’t change that
but every hour of everyday adds a
memory to the times we had.
2004 poem by Josh Morter ©

this was the first poem I had ever really written (2004 in my first year of GCSE's), it was on a poetry day at school and a select few pupils were allowed to take part and I was chosen even though I shouldn't have been. To this day though. I don't think without this experience and push to express myself I would have ever written poetry.
Josh Morter May 2013
Eyes feel heavy
Lids weigh tonnes
Counting sheep by the dozens

Pillows not soft
Beds not warm
Quilt lies rigid
Curtains not drawn

Of course at first when I layed down
It was for the purpose of sleep
Yet it has not come to take me
So at midnight I'll a creep

Make my way to kitchen
For a late night snack
Open up the Milk
Take a swig from the carton, then put it straight back.

Creep back quite slowly,
licking my lips
I do love a good midnight milk trip
Treading careful over creaky floorboards beneath
After all I don't want to reveal that
*I'm the milk thief
Written on 01/05/13 by Josh Morter ©

Another night of failing to sleep, atleast I found something worthwhile to do with these forgotten hours
Josh Morter Jan 2013
Fear, anguish, apprehension
even a blunt butter knife could cut this tension
Despair, regret, repressed emotion
at no point is life a calm ocean
Anger, rage and also fury
at these times its best to ignore me
But happiness, joy and cheerful laughter
these are things that I am after
Admiration, companionship, love and friends
Keep life on a level until the end.
2012 poem by Josh Morter ©

short poem I wrote recently, was struggling to comprehend what I was feeling in a recent situation... Not sure this worked out the trouble but time will tell.
Josh Morter Jan 2013
Wake up from a dream
To find yourself alone
Sat in a bed
In a place that you call home
Yet home is not a building, a shelter or a hive
Home is were you should feel safe, warm and alive
They say home is where the heart is
And my heart it lives with you
They say home is where the heart is
And I speak these words true
Home is where I lay my hat, my shoes, my coat, my head
Home is not really all that
Just a roof, walls and a bed
Without the warmth of another my house would just sit bare
A sturdy structure with no-one to care
So sturdy becomes stable, then stable to forlorn
Deserted and derelict
Until another is foresworn
Foresworn into the structure
The structure of my house
The structure of my life
And what I’m about
With the warmth of another it is derelict no more
It begins a decoration, a restoration, a change
A change for the better
The better of my heart
The change for one other and the chance for
A life to start.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

older poem typed up in October 2012.
Josh Morter Mar 2015
I need a job.
To start living, start earning some money, am begging.
Begging you like Madcon
The cv handout goes on, and on.
Like a record that's skipped,
beginning to feel like I've been tricked.

It's not like I wouldn't work hard
I'm willing to work hard for my pay,
willing to work everyday,
willing to earn my way.
I ain't fed on greed,
I only need what I need,
only one mouth to feed.
I'll even work on my knees
scrub till my fingers bleed

I'm like a seed sprouting, roots up routing,  with stem as long as my sadness has resided.
Pent up emotion continuing to grow.
As the roots begin to take hold below.

Take hold of my tongue and its words, my heart and its love, and my lungs and its breath.
Got Nothing left; to push through to the surface beginning to feel its all worthless
What's the point here?!
I'm stumped.

"I JUST NEED A JOB YOU... Chumps"

Feel like I should take a jump.
Not a jump of suicidal intention, just a jump for attention
Attention for a life to begin.

For a business to take me in
give me the experience I lack.
In return I'll give back: hardwork, effort and sweat.
Which will help me to show that I'm able to grow.
And I deserve to leap out
from this pit,
trudging in ****.
From the depths of this dirt and weeds
where it all began as a seed.

A seed, a thought, a prognosis.
So now it's my time to show this;
Show what I've got on the surface.
Show that I am not worthless.
Show from a seed I have grown.
Show that I deserve a home.
A place to call my own.
Then once I am there I will know...

How?

I'll have blossomed
Wrote this just over a year ago after making a big step in my life and began to feel like things just weren't going my way. (it did all come together in the end)
Josh Morter May 2013
Night night
Sweet dreams
I doze
Until slumber encases my bones
and gentle rest befalls my eye
This time Nights my demise

I lay peaceful awake till I go
To the land of nod and below
From my mouth emits a yawn
The task will be complete before dawn

Sleep tight
Sleep well
Sleep
my love
Let only dreams flow above

So now shut your eyes
and think of blues skies
Night night
Sweetdreams
I doze.
Written on 30/04/13 by Josh Morter ©

Couldn't manage to sleep last night so let my mind wander and this is the result.
Josh Morter Jun 2013
Journeying intrepidly across the globe we roam
Bags on back
Clothes tight packed
in rolls to save some space
Tents and sleeping bags also
You know, just incase
Toothbrush in the side pocket
With soap, towel and shower gel
All those toilet necessities
Not forgetting deodorant as well
Other pocket for *** bits
Such as pen, pad an... Uhhh 'Dictionnaire'
Once you've settled in a bit
It's nice to show you care
By taking an effort to learn the language
Or at least a phrase or two
Not just the 'parle anglaise?' Or 'specken ze English?'
Stuff that'll get you through.
You want to be able to ask for a
Arancia, a Birne or even a Manzana
I mean your gonna need an orange a pear and an apple... well. aren't ya?
Then comes the paperwork
The booking
The flights
The bills
Practically impossible to get a holiday no frills.
Written by Josh Morter

Been a while since I wrote anything, decided to have a go at something with a pace to it that was more conversational... Got half way through I felt and then hit a blank. But for now it's ample!
Josh Morter Mar 2013
If you have issues with drugs you'd always talk to Frank
If you were having money troubles you'd go straight to the bank
But if you had to vent your anger
To whom would you go
Well here's a little secret from someone in the know

When you have the need to vent
There's no better man to call, than the vent'i'taker - stress collector
Or just for short Paul.

He will take on all your aggression and shred it nice and small
As once he has done that there will be no stress at all.

He can cut up people also...but that's a very bad thing to ask,
As if Paul got caught...he would be straight in jail.
And very very fast.
Poem by Josh Morter ©

a silly poem i jotted down as an attempt to cheer someone up. I think it worked
Josh Morter Apr 2013
We** are all here for a purpose.
that purpose is...
Poem by Josh Morter ©
Josh Morter Feb 2013
Just like an addiction
The need for a fix controls
The line between 'need' and 'want' blurs, more often than a clock ticks.

The quest for the dream is a time consuming process

Unknown obstacles will discourage,
Past experiences shall hinder,
Repressed emotion comes to the forefront of your mind,
Blinded.
Opportunities pass you by.

Yet the quest for the dream stays strong

Battling through blockades
Climbing over walls
Stumbling on rubble
Always regaining the ability to stand tall

The quest for the dream is a endurance race

Nearing your goal,
with the final onslaught to endure
and the last hurdle to leap
Persistence is to be used in excess
And you've risen from the deep.

The quest for the dream is a time consuming process
So stay strong, and stand up tall
against whatever comes your way.
Our dreams are achievable.
Written on 12/02/13 by Josh Morter ©

Decided two cappuccinos was a good idea to have in 3 minutes... Mind went wandering and hands started to write. Final product!
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