Biography of Jack Shimmin
If anyone's actually interested I'm a student in Derby, UK, taking my A-levels Woop ^..^
Only started writing poetry in 2009, wrote my 1st poem on a blackberry phone while watching Extraordinary people at stupid o'clock in the morning: P
Since my 1st poem I got into the swing of taking any form of inspiration, anything that gave rise to any inkling of emotion and forging scenarios of the said, using words.
Id always been a wordy type anyway, just took a while to find a way of using it ^^
Anyways, give my stuff a read, comment, rate, whatever, just enjoy it if you can: 3
Jack Shimmin's Works:
Jack Shimmin Poems
Regain Your Conscience
Feel a softer surrender, crash upon your own shores; not the districts of the vendor, creator and sender, not the doors to under-scorers and saboteurs. Further back the fighting conscience, a rebellious core; glowing red in the face of the free absence, again missing the one vital score. Where is my mind? Faces of such glory, hidden tyranny in its veins; masking an ability for the telling of stories, my story, instead lingering pains; mocking the very ground we tread.
A Different Tide, This One Of Grass
Dark as my shrouded escort, lead to this vastness; amidst an atmosphere of a particular sort, rates of speed and heart double in fastness; influenced under this great light. Black figures surprise then diminish tranquillity amidst the chaos of my mind; the element held my focus, with no foreseeable finish, still; this place gave much sight to the blind.
A Sweeter Perception
There is no need to observe your implications, no need to watch and survey your sensations; no need, but to live, breathe and do as you wish, move to your sound as your sound moves with you; take that which you give and you shall bear no blemish, follow not another's clue; but create your own sweeter surrender.
Where One Wish Not Tread
Too far from where I want to be, behind scattered trees; amongst these, I cannot hear I cannot see; it was never meant for me, this enlightening visibility. One, four, three; my beat is disrupted; thrown out to sea, vision corrupted, of my survival there is no guarantee. I have to push to live to push, to escape, I am no escapee; still the skies blue is lush, still pain from the scrape, I am not yet deaths nominee.
One Of Tainted Hearing
I am there again, stated in such magnificent silence, only once I told myself; to keep the balance, allowing another's serenity. By my hand, by my benevolence; I slip into their outline, crafting pathways through their voice; if only all were as quiet as these.
This Damned Rabbit Hole
I fear I am alone in this light, chosen to be salvaged from a somewhat functioning machine; it seems this perception will only ever see blight, a warped vision of a gleaming scene. The dark gives rise to the glow, without its equal it would be hollow; but we never want to stay always wanting to go, ignoring the blue and taking the red to swallow.
This Damned Rabbit Hole
I fear I am alone in this light, chosen to be salvaged from a somewhat functioning machine; it seems this perception will only ever see blight, a warped vision of a gleaming scene.
The dark gives rise to the glow, without its equal it would be hollow; but we never want to stay always wanting to go, ignoring the blue and taking the red to swallow.
Scribbling over art is to destroy? Why are so many canvases war torn; we are not in the times of Genghis Kahn and Troy, our hands cannot join t