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.
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
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.
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.
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. But It failed to notice the creeping claw Climbing steadily towards it. The claw of tourism, Eroding its walls,stone by stone.
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.
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.
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.