• Carly Morton

Feeling poetic


When I was in Year 6 I had this massive crush on a boy named Dylan. He certainly didn't like me, but I continued to try pretty hard to get him to notice that I'm an awesome person. I don't know why I thought poetry was the way to do that, but nevertheless, I persisted in finding poems from Dolly or Girlfriend magazine, writing them out and getting a friend in his class to put them in his desk. A couple of days later a girl in his class (Who is now my best friend- damn you Harps you bitch!) gave me back the poems with little cows drawn all over them. Whether or not it was intended, I couldn't help but take it as a personal insult, apparently I was a cow. Wow! Since then, I have always gone back to poems as a way to express what I'm feeling, when regular sentences don't do the trick. Here are three poems I have written over the past year. I am not going to explain them because they are personal and deal with significant aspects of my life right now. Tell me what you think in the comments section below.

Discovering December

Those soothing sounds

of a morning

long overdue.

Repairing, restoring, re-living

those fond memories

that envelop me

but do not crush

my faulty spirit which

pleads

like the Southerly wind

on a dreary winters afternoon.

I lay

conscious of every word and thought.

Examining them with such precision.

A fine microscope

that is my unsatisfied mind.

Yet the daylight calls to me.

Stirs me from my slumber.

Sets my path

and births in me a curiosity

that seeks

more

than the mundane

to discover the dark depths

of my existence.

Prisoner

Old letters

remnants of long-forgotten pasts.

left behind to collect dust

and die in the memory

of a girl who has forgotten

how to write.

I pen a new letter

soaked with the salty tears

bound by the futility of

hope.

Waiting for a whisper

that is stuck in the throat

of another- a prisoner also.

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

Ready to cut off the uncontrollable

creature lest she betray me.

Feed me to the wolves

a tasty morsel of

bones and bitterness.

Yet I remain

a prisoner.

Stronghold

Those "Manacles of injustice"

debilitating and destructive.

A number

An ant

A robot

A soldier in the army

ready to be sacrificed

by the faceless me in the "Ivory Tower"

for the sake of that "Filthy Dollar".

I pour out

blood

sweat

and tears.

And yet remain unnamed

and unknown.

Wondering if it is all worth it.


#books #enjoy #evolve #lifestyle #live #loving #mentalhealth #positivity

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