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Sarah Mullaney May 2016
It’s the year of you and don’t you forget.
Where happiness sits at the top of the list; but
smiles are reserved for those who deserve
the gems of your affection, shining so bright.

You’ll embrace those that enrich your existence.
The guardian angels and mad hatters, who
make your soul tap dance to the music of the mighty,
whilst unleashing a belly laugh like no other.

You’re a working woman who’s a work in progress.
Learning the art of adulthood
whilst darting in and out of Neverland,
a commute full of surprises.

You’ll see the light, or maybe just sense.
Realising that grades don’t measure success,
those pointless paper squiggles have nothing
on you.

It’s the year of you and you should be excited.
Because great things lie ahead for the
dreamers with a passion, so open your eyes
and get ready.

© Sarah Mullaney
Sarah Mullaney Apr 2016
A light wave of smoke dances in the air
to sunset musings of guitar and piano,
whose voices gently caress one another,
as passion burns from the inside out.
Souls are awoken from a single drink
whilst children bask in innocent play,
“Weren’t we the ones who ran so freely?”
you purr with a smile as I take your hand.
We run away to the cobbled streets
where music fades and our voices echo,
a stolen glance, an arch of the back,
here we are, young again.

© Sarah Mullaney
Sarah Mullaney Mar 2016
Tiptoe down the forgotten steps
to where your soul does rest,
and see the land that lies beneath
the eyes that do know best.

The finest of jade silks is
woven deep into our ground,
in a land that bears no boundaries
but - is yet to be found.

For round the corner water laps
and dances between your toes,
a waltz, a tango, a sudden embrace
whatever you say goes.

Conquer this world on a swing up high,
where you take your worthy seat,
back and forth, your senses silly
you fall onto your feet.

Then a delicate song of angels guides
to a grand mahogany door,
where the angel herself awaits for you
centred in the floor.

“Be not afraid,” she softly breathes
“A gifted soul you are,
and when happiness seems a world away
you need not travel far.”

She leads you to a marble sink
pure water trickling clear,
it swirls it sooths, it embraces your skin
it laughs in the face of fear.

But the time has now come, alas you must go,
the universe waits for no one,
you walk up the steps to the chosen land
and see the life you have won.
Sarah Mullaney Mar 2016
They pull a string, she jerks her head,
They say ‘do this’, ‘ok’ she says.
Bound by the strings that’s where she’ll go,
Never feeling more alone.

But her head is wooden, it cannot feel.
They choose her story, that’s the deal.
So her smile it glistens, her heart is sings,
Whilst bound to eternity by the strings.

They burn and mark her skin so fair,
She curls up tight and says a prayer.
But the time has come to take a stand,
To rise to the challenge, no helping hand.

As the sun falls and the night creeps in,
She prepares to commit the most wickedly sin.
Whilst they cast her away and let arrogance fly,
She had been keeping a watchful eye.

The almighty blades, they shone in the light
She hurled herself forward, they were in plain sight.
The sting of cold metal, it gave her a rush,
As she cut the strings, with a final PUSH.

They pull a string and I’m not there,
They say ‘do this’ and I don’t care.
I see their game, but they can’t see me,
As I watch from behind the curtain with glee.
Sarah Mullaney Oct 2013
A moment of eternal sun
fades as the clouds rear their head.
Light now dimmed, I drift in my thoughts,
waiting for the onslaught from the mocking lull of the waves.
The storm is upon me.

All I can see; all I can hear
is the weight of the words come crashing down.
Every bluster, blow and blast,
sees me falling further.
The chaos continues.

The raging storm throws its all.
Escape is not an option.
It will take no survivors.
Drained, disorientated, I am taunted by the voice
that is fuelled by my fall.
Waiting for defeat…

"No!" I cry. "The voice shall not win!"
A life of sheer misery
is but an endless prison sentence.
There is more to life than this,
every shadow needs some light.
The sinking ship shall stay afloat.

A lifetime of being trapped in darkness,
is obstructed by the prevailing flame of hope.
The whistling voice
that made every storm a tempest
now whimpers in my presence.
I am free from the suffocation.
The storm has passed.
Context of the poem: Earlier this year as I was approaching my Year 12 exams, I put an extreme amount of pressure on myself, so much so that I convinced myself I was incapable of passing the exams and became very stressed. I don't want to go into much detail, because this is difficult enough for me to write as it is and I don't like admitting that I struggle with the pressure that I put on myself. This is a VERY simplified account of what happened. Things became very difficult for my family and I and for a while, I was in what I perceived as my 'rock bottom.' With the right help and support, I was able to gradually get through my problems with stress and eventually go back to being my normal, dippy, happy self. That doesn't mean to say that everything is A-ok, but now a 'bad day' for me is not the end of the world and is more than manageable.

— The End —