Short Poems

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Short poems are appetisers – poetry for those with a small appetite.

Most of my short poems are from my TWITTER feed as I love the challenge of a restricted character count. For a girl who enjoys written communication, Twitter is an exercise in moderation and mindful writing.

The beauty of a single verse is that the reader is left wanting more. The words tickle the imagination but leave you to scratch the itch; fill in the blanks yourself!

Many of these little poems have no clear ending – again you may decide for yourself whether she got the Prince or not.

I never wanted to be neutral,
My colours were to be beautiful hues
Of the rich and deep.
Adventure, romance,
Song and dance,
Dark woods with magical trees
Laughing in a cliff top breeze.
That is how my life was planned,
But here I sit, magnolia bland.

As the night closed in around her,
She accepted its invitation to leave the day behind and rest.
Tomorrow would come soon enough,
The sun would drag its adoring entourage
Of worries and work and maddening mayhem behind it.
But for now, all was quiet.
The monster was coming
She had no idea when.
Nor how.
But it was behind every tree,
Tapping at the window,
Beside her bed,
In the space between breaths,
In her mind,
Eating her heart.
Its screams echoed in her dreams
And woke her with suffocating fear.
She was the monster.
He handed her a dream
Gift wrapped in glorious hues of promises.
As it died unopened in her hands,
He passed her another.
And more, 
Until broken dreams
Littered the floor by her feet
And,too late, she saw through his words.
Sitting in the golden warmth of the autumn sun
She let it fill her with its light.
The storms would come, 
Winter would freeze her bones,
But for now she was serene and all was well.
And now was all that mattered.
Tomorrow would look after itself.
evening sun Aberdaron beach a short poem in itself
The sun kissed the sea on its way over the hill,
Leaving its rosy lipstick smudged across the calm waters.
A pink blush remained as a reminder
That they would meet again on the morrow.
As rippled silk of palest gold
The sea touched the sand with its cool caress.
The beach reached out a hand in response
And kissed the salty fingers.
She had been awoken by a steady breeze.
Tho the window was shut
It flapped the curtains as wings.
Despite the locked doors
She heard it rattling through the house
Worrying at the cupboards and shelves- 
For the wind of change heeds no barriers.
The morning weakly lit up her grimy window
And poked at her eyes.
Waking into an uneasy dream-world where nothing made sense,
She sighed and pushed back the covers
Another day
Another disappointment.
She had followed a dream to the foot of the hill,
Filled with anticipation, she strode confidently 
Her head held high.
She turned to look at how far she had come,
But when she looked again for the hill
It had gone
For the dream was never hers to chase.
The ghosts wailed through the corridors of her mind,
Her thoughts haunted by regrets.
Memories of past failures and lost love
Left blood stained footprints on her heart.
Ghouls taunted her every movement
And unseen demons tied her and denied her escape.
For so long,
Something had been missing.
Something important had left her life.
She searched for the missing piece of the jigsaw
But was not sure of the picture on the box.
Then, in a heart-stopping moment she realised-
The missing part was HER.
I am that soft whispering voice in the dead of night
The broken,half spoken word.
The silent feeling you catch stealing through your thoughts...
Please please I need to be heard!
The years had passed
He had forgotten her.
She still breathed his name 
And her heart called out to him.
He had been her one
The only
Yet she was now a stranger to him. 
She smiled at his sleeping form beside her,
Dementia couldn't kill her love for him
whole life poetry the open road through mountains
Travelling -
Those never ending days 
Which are over too soon have their own soundtrack.
The music of the open road,
The beat of the planet 
And a lyric which sings of freedom and adventure. 
The road was straight 
Mapped out for her by a society born to follow 
But the girl was a dreamer who saw beyond the narrow path,
And she stepped off it into the rugged hills where she could breathe.
She watched the sunlight creeping ever closer,
Like a shy animal that had learned not to trust.
She shivered in the cold and waited for the first touch of its warmth 
To see how it felt- 
For she too had lost faith in the world.

I enjoy writing but I get thirsty…it would really be lovely if you would buy me a cup of tea and a little cake …please and thank you x

A flame dances 
With the draught
From the open window.
Evening breeze
Peeking round the curtains 
Seeking a star of its own.
The candle breathed life into the sacred space of the church.
Dancing in its own light 
And bathing in its fiery warmth.
It sang a silent serenade to the stones that gave it sanctuary 
And sheltered it from the storms outside.
St Hywyn Aberdaron a candle burns where R S Thomas wrote his own short poems
Swaying serenely in the disturbed air
The flame watched the people come,
And go.
The day faded
And the flame became all there was.
The candle stood sentry throughout the night
Until the sun shone onto the window
And breathed life into the figures it trapped
The light tapped at the glass
And bid the window to allow it in.
"You may enter - but only you! 
Leave the noise and clamour outside".
So the light filled the silence of the church
With a silence of its own. 
She followed him into the twilight
Of a wintry day.
She knew him not
Nor understood her compulsion 
Yet onwards she walked until he vanished into the snow
And she realised that he was no stranger, 
She had followed her soul to a path she would never have found.
She sat and waited for him to find her,
Her patience digging deep grooves into her heart
Leaving it bleeding and sore.
But still she smiled
For she didn't know
He had moved on -
He searched no more.
Autumn had seen it all -
She recalled the fresh green of spring
And the vibrant flowers of summer.
She mixed them up with a mellow smile 
In a firey pot of gold
And painted the world in a colourful farewell
Before winter stripped it bare.
Autumn got off the train, 
She had arrived in style -setting the countryside ablaze.
Her fiery colours ended summer's reign with a glorious fanfare.
And she left just as winter paid for his ticket to ride -
She hated his minimalism.
A window which is blind
In a wall which neither now denies entry nor encloses.
Their time seemingly ended.
Yet we stand in awe
For they have seen history we'll never know
And their time will extend beyond ours.
castel Dinas Bran LLangollen Wales
Built from the mountains
The tower proudly proclaimed its might.
But slowly it crumbles 
As its bones - the stones - 
Find their way home.
The castle slept on the hill top,
Its days of protecting done.
The battle cries had died
The ghosts of the slain had moved on.
It failed to notice the creeping claw
Climbing steadily towards it.
The claw of tourism,
Eroding its walls,stone by stone.
Castel Dinas Bran a claw creeps insidiously towards it whole life poetry short poems
The river laughed its way along the valley,
Calling up to the castle on the hill as it passed.
The greeting had remained the same for centuries
And had yet to receive a reply.
The mountains stood as sentries 
Guarding the gentle valley at their feet.
They fed water to the lush meadows
And dipped their toes in the rippling streams.
Morning had broken hours before
The girl watched the sun rise over the mountains
And climb its way up into the sky,
A triumph over darkness
Morning had broken hours before-
But with no chance of rising into the air,
The girl,without hope was still broken.
I love those moments when the world stops turning.
The noise dies away and the chaos organises itself into miraculous creations.
And I breathe. Just breathe.
There's nothing more for me to do.
I am alive - that's all.
Standing silent now,
The honey-washed stones remembered when they rang with song,
When flesh filled the spaces between the bare bones
Of what is left -
A skeleton robbed of life.
The tolling bell from the little round tower
Marking the days hour by hour.
The sound rang clearly through the air
But those who heard no longer cared.
It felt the weight of their steps
And the depth of their thoughts. 
Although it offered no words
The path knew it led them forwards
To a place that could answer every question.
Path through trees whole life poetry short poems
Walking in the footsteps of the past.
Do ghosts still tread these paths,
Unaware that their lives ended
So long ago.
Do they pass by,
Hidden from our sight
As we are blinded by our perception of "now and then"
Whilst they know always and forever.
In a final fanfare
To the fading light
The trees bowed their heads in gratitude
And reflected a summer sunrise.
Farewell fair season,
We will wait through the long winter
And dream of the first kiss of spring.
pines on a hill top whole life poetry
They stood, voiceless, 
Atop an age old hill.
They saw the world turning,
And the dance of the stars.
They breathed with the breeze
But never spoke 
For they knew we would not listen.

My twitter feed is @wholelifepoetry ; I don’t put all of the feed on here, nor does all the poetry from this page appear on twitter.

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