Matthew Holloway Poems

The hours of the previous evening
Drained through the room
Where sleepless I lay in the dark
Twisting, turning, sitting up, laying down
...

An early morning rise
Kettle on, grains in cup
Sleep rubbed from eyes
Phone checked for messages
...

The sound of the sea
Flows from speakers
Volume kept low
And the lights switched
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Enslaved to this
led by innate desire
Through sleepless nights
Where thoughts play, dance
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Carried in the salt air
In which the gull does glide
And tides roll in and away
The crisp breath of the earth
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The torture of this soul
to witness all such worlds
sonnets and songs alike
to see more than the average eye
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Sleep beckons to me
eyes fight to remain open
yet a poem remains unwritten
to love or nature or each entwined
...

I may appear ugly
The unattractive, strange
That awkward soul
Yet my heart is kind
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The poets quill
Is like a syringe
Addictive to the user
The poet, writer
...