I'm doing a Creative Writing course right now, and I would like to hear your thoughts about several poems I've wrote, posted below. Thanks.
She Walks ...
Wailing wind drifts through the high trees.
Shadowy crows silently sit watching from a baying branch
As raucous rain crashes the felled leaves.
A cigarette is tossed into the overgrowth by a figure soundlessly trampling through the flood.
The smoke rises from its dying embers into the night sky
As that hot familiar vanquished ash is lost to the mud.
The full moon gives light to the mirror of broken glass,
Alighting in the figures face, revealing her in all her darkness;
Her pale face belied by a pinkish hue and lurid lips of either red or blue.
As her green empty eyes stare into the wilderness,
Thoughts focused in her lowered head
Of that morning. Of that night. What she could have differently.
Moments come and moments pass. She trudges on through the grass
Muttering to herself all the words that were left unsaid.
She walks on through the gravelled pathway, amongst the gravestones,
Grey stone statues standing stoically observing for reasons unknown.
She slumps on a park bench overlooking the water, clutching her white rose.
Feathers float fresh from a sleeping swan. The winds descend and the moon glows.
At a hotel restaurant in Paris
Whilst overhearing French voices that float
In to my ears and out again,
Coalescing into a single French note
From a single French tongue.
A couple sits down at the table next to me.
An overly made-up middle-aged woman in a black dress
Orders in her half forgotten French, her husband
Sits timid, trying not to show his distress.
"What do you want?" She asks coldly.
"Whatever you're having" he replies absently.
No more words passed between them.
A silence that neither could condemn.
Amidst the bruit d'ambiance
Of a restaurant full of life
Their sound salient for its absence
Save for the careful clatter of fork and knife
Glancing vacantly past her bare shoulder
The man stares at the crowd
Wondering where their voice was lost.
Their silence so loud
The Shapes Beyond the Horizon
Beyond the horizon the dark shapes form,
The breeze barely breathes, diminishing light falls.
Below the blue the fishes softly swarm,
Their fins' fly underneath as the darkness calls.
High in the sky, under moonlights watchful eyes,
The wind wakes and rain falls on pounding waves.
Hidden shapes shift, ships hit, the hour arises.
Thunder cracks and shakes the watery graves.
The sleeping sea shakes, squeals as it wakes,
The fishes smiles wide as they swim to the sky
As shapes of the ships break the blue that quakes
And morning breaks ... now the sun smiles upon high.
A serenity stills and a calmness fills
The hour as the wind winds through the waves dance
And the blues calm thrills on the sand where it spills
And all the fishes that took their chance, prance.
Untitled
Insects
Are Talking
On a hot
Summer’s night,
There’s a glow
From the moon
And the stars
Hang bright.
The wind
Whispers
Through the leaves
In the trees,
Darkness
Swept through it;
A hard heavy
Breeze.
Not a word
Was spoken
Only the night
Was there,
And the wind
Blew dust
And nothing
Was heard.
In the distance
A figure
Lurks
So black,
To look
Into his eyes
Would make
Yours crack.
A woman
Stands empty
Her face
In a mask,
Looks
Into the distance
And her eyes
Just cracked.
Not a word
Was spoken
Only the night
Was there,
And the wind
Blew dust
And nothing
Was heard.
It Takes A Train To Sigh
Darkness was creeping through the falling rain on the platform
As a voice warbled through the tannoy overhead, giving
Information to a vacant station as the lights turned from red
To yellow. The footsteps of a well-heeled woman approached
From the ticket office; gripping her briefcase, fresh from her business,
As a man wanders in and paces the platform and studies his watch
And taps his feet and studies his watch and looks down the tunnel
And looks down his watch and studies the hands as he stands,
Impatiently. Waiting.
There she stands, cigarette smoke rising from her gloved hands
As she hides in a corner away from the eyes of those that might see her
And the wind's sharp whisper. Softly she coughs as she catches
His eyes that shy away and stares at the ground as though nothing profound
Has happened. He turns away and looks at his watch and politely holds
His hand over his mouth as he coughs and taps his feet, the impatient beat
Of a man waiting, waiting for a train.
The rain keeps on falling and the voice in the tannoy to all is calling
Attention; the train's destination will have to wait and the man
And the woman will have to be late as they look at their feet but think of their fate.
She looks at him slyly as he's turned away and both of them hope there is something to say
To break the silence to ease the tension, something or nothing the other can mention
To spark a hint of conversation, to test if there is some imitation
Of fate or life or some other lie, a subterranean lovesick sigh or
If the silence is just too to much bare or just that there is somebody there,
Somebody else to share the moment, to share a notion behind the air.
NO NEWS TODAY!
In the most shocking, sensational story to date
From the only paper that gives it to you straight!
We can exclusively reveal the big breaking news.
So sit tight and get ready to give us your views.
You’re the ones that matter to us, so have your say,
You heard it here first … NO NEWS TODAY!
Unprecedented! Shocking! Can it be true?
In years to come they’ll ask ‘where were you?’
You can read the full story: Pages 1-24,
About how the whole world fell into shock and awe
Upon hearing the news that we’ll repeat again …
NO NEWS TODAY! Here’s the where, why and when …
More to follow …
Today, there was panic on the streets of nowhere,
As the world woke up to this startling overnight development
That developed overnight. It emerged that
All news had ceased and there was nothing new to report.
Reporters, newspaper editors, columnists and journalists alike
Worked through the night to try to find out more on the breaking story,
However details are sketchy at the moment and we’re waiting to hear more.
The Prime Minister is expected to make an announcement shortly about this sensation,
And how this controversy will affect the nation.
Mr. McCall from Arbroath writes ‘it must be a sham’
Whilst Jenny from Wales thinks ‘it’s all a big scam’
Keep sending your thoughts, we can’t wait to hear
From you, we’ll bring you any developments
So stay tuned and stay here.
To Whom It May Concern
Dear Sir/Madam,
I wish to make a complaint with regards to one of your products, which I think may be a little bit faulty.
It worked well for a while and I had few problems, but more recently it seems it’s just a little bit dodgy.
Although I got it a fair while ago, I expected that it’d last. I didn’t think it’d start breaking down this fast.
There are many problems now and there are no spare parts, though you didn’t tell me that at the start!
I can’t find the receipt anywhere, I’m not sure I was even given one. In fact I don’t remember where I
Even got this model from. I hope that’s not a problem, I can assure you my complaint is real, I wouldn’t
Have gone to this much trouble otherwise, it’s just I thought we had a fair deal?
You see, it takes its time to get going, and it creaks and it croaks as it does. I can hear its engine stutter and it makes this funny Buzz. The fingers shake now, I can’t seem to steady them. They never used to be like that I’m sure. I think I definitely recall that They used to be able to handle a pen or a paintbrush, a steering wheel, a hammer, guitar strings, blades of grass, a woman’s touch, A razor blade or broken glass. The legs don’t stand up on their own either. They shuffle slowly and shake in the cold, they hurt all the Time and don’t bend like they used to. They never seem to do as they’re told. The hair that gave you me (what’s left of it!) is grey And thin, and there are other hairs too now where they were never supposed to have been! The skin that you gave me is wrinkled And creased and the teeth are gone now and so too are the feasts. In fact, the whole thing is just worn and weary, I can’t use it Anymore, it’s just sat there looking dreary. There are other things too, too many to mention and I can’t afford a replacement, not on My pension.
I enclose a stamped address envelope, and I await your response. Many thanks in advance.
Yours Faithfully,
A. Smith (Mr.)
As the Lid Ash is Scattered on the Table
I succumb to a freshly squeezed grip of his veined hand,
I feel his grip get tighter as the night grows lighter.
His teeth gnash at my lid. But still ...
No spell is formed by this wand.
I stand here waiting to spill my ink
I look at you waiting too.
You're like a siren stealing the view.
One look at you and the words sink ...
He presses me hard with his finger and thumb
Waiting.
Hoping.
Waiting
For it to come.
First Love
When softly he whispered into her ear,
She responded by telling him he annoyed her.
When he held her head the times that she was tired,
She screamed at him for being so insensitive.
When he stroked her hand gently with the deft touch of his fingers,
She grabbed him and gave him a Chinese burn until his arm went raw red.
When he meekly kissed her neck whilst cozying up on the couch,
She head-butted him with the force of a Scottish footballer.
When he begged for forgiveness over something that wasn’t his fault,
She throttled him until his face went purple.
When he got down on bended knee,
She kicked him square in the temple with her high-heel shoes.
When he declared his undying love for her,
She knifed him in the chest, cut out his vital organs and used the blood to paint the ceiling.
When they lay his body to rest,
She spat at the coffin and lifted her skirt and laughed merrily whilst sipping Claret.
When he lay in his grave,
She burned the flowers that lay there and kicked down the stone.
Now she is alone.
