I visited the graveyard one cold winter's day
To wander among the headstones and pray.
Two new additions this week had appeared
One, a young woman, much loved and revered
...
This world is breaking out, pulling loose
Snapping free the bonds of daily existence
Making way for the new to arrive and arise,
To burst upon us like the great foaming wave
...
She comes in at a quarter to one that night,
A stumbling shadow in the slumbering hallway.
Through to the kitchen, lights are flicked on
Blazing ferociously as she squints mascara-streaked eyes.
...
These aren't tears glistening on my eyelashes
No!
They're sequins, or Christmas lights sparkling.
My shoulders, shaking?
...
I lie in a pool of thoughts
That seep into my pillow
From the bullet-sized hole in my consciousness.
...
Here be darkness
Where the soul wallows in
its sordid little sins
And monsters doze.
...
I'm 16, I've been writing all my life, and I just wanted a chance to see what other people thought of some of my poems. I prefer doing short stories though. Most of the poems I've chosen to put on this site sound quite depressing - sorry about that, I didn't plan it. I live in the Fens in the East of England and I'm about to start doing A-levels at sixth form... and that's about it.)
R.I.P
I visited the graveyard one cold winter's day
To wander among the headstones and pray.
Two new additions this week had appeared
One, a young woman, much loved and revered
Whose small plot was layered with flower on flower
Whose family had knelt by the graveside for hours.
The other, a vagrant - unseen and unknown,
A draughty shop doorway he'd once known as home
When he died in the darkness with nobody there
No-one to see and nobody to care.
No flowers had he, and no tearful farewells,
Just strangers tolling the echoing bells.