New Poetry by Holly Attwell

Drip, Drop

 

The rain rolls down the window and the car drives on,

Splashing through waters of unknown depth.

The lights flicker by, faster still,

Until the light from each is a momentary glance;

Potential to illuminate as they dance.

Face to the window leaves a cold mist on the skin,

But it warms within this calm metal box.

The music buzzes on,

Switching lanes,

And the engine becomes unnoticeable.

Thoughts fall, some caught, some passed, still forming.

Always rolling with the rain,

Each disappearing to be replaced

By another.

Drip, drop, gone.

 

A Haiku 

The beetroot tree shines,

Dazzling in the busy park,

Somehow unnoticed.

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Car

This car is comfortably safe;

I know this place,

But not where it will go.

Remain a little longer, though,

I try to say,

You hear something else anyway.

It flies from me,

Through the window and free.

Parallels that briefly intertwine.

Lights illuminate and shine.

The sun is beginning to hide.

Then I realise I have stepped outside.

I smile.

You have a new car now.

 

Words Leftover

Words leftover from the things unsaid,

Swirling only in our heads.

The trapdoor once opened, and words tumbled out like

Sticks and stones,

Stones and sticks,

But not the words remaining,

Not the could have beens,

Now, only the maybes.

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Burnt Toast

The smell of burnt toast

Clings to my hair,

My dressing gown, everywhere.

I smell it as I walk up the stairs

And it drifts through the air.

You let me burn, unnoticed

It protests.

And now you wonder why you were so careless

And wow,

You notice me now.

You let it crumble

To smouldering could have been.

 

Meaning Missed

Talking through the glass,

The words turn to ash

And the embers drift away;

Gone.

Meanings melt upon contact with the frozen

Glass, so you step aside.

Hand up on one side, just to be missed.

Both now gone,

And etched in the ice is

Meaning missed.

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Plans Not Present

Here comes the question that you

Really need to answer.

There is no need to defer

Or to tell the truth.

 

Where do you see yourself?

In 5 or 10 years’ time?

Do not be left on that shelf

For that would be a crime.

 

You need a plan, you do.

You really must conform.

Anything could occur,

But please fill out this form.

 

Please, try to remain present

Whilst making your choice

You should know that the events

Of the future are shaped by your choice.

 

Carpe Diem

Carpe diem, procrastination,

Writers block or inspiration.

Thinking through what to do

Might just take its toll on you.

Think,

But not too much.

Look for the next thought,

They branch out and flicker.

Think,

But not too much.

 

The Problem with Frost

The snow falls beautifully, effortlessly, truly;

A picture book scene through and through,

Mixing with water, just to form sludge;

Half-formed snow, sad snow.

Lives changing

As a life lies in-between.

It does not affect the others who hurry to and fro

But they see the woman cry,

Perhaps they wonder why,

Why,

Why.

The snow falls again.

Such consistent frost.

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Curiously Unexpected

Playing golf next to a sheep

Was completely unexpected.

It looked at me as if to say

‘I know this was not expected.’

However, I continued to play,

And the sheep watched on.

The next day I expected the sheep,

But the sheep was gone.

 

 

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Poems/Poems/Poems

The Last Man by Neil James Jones

You’ll want a real man

Who is gentle, wise and caring

When desires make demands

He is rough, base and daring

 

But all men are pigs

Right down to the last

Try to find yourself a gent’

As they’re selling out fast

 

It’s a question of numbers

Just supply and demand

Enough time in the desert

And you’ll drink the sand

 

You’ll sit there and listen

What else can you do?

As he whispers sweet nothings

And delivers them too

 

All the good men are gone

No replacements, a dearth

Now you’ll have to make do,

Since I’m the last man on Earth.

 

Related image

 

 

 Just Another Anxiety Poem by Stephanie Love

This will not be another poem

About how depression is like drowning

Or how anxiety is like a rollercoaster

Because I fucking love rollercoasters

And I fucking hate anxiety

I promise there will be no tired similes

Or metaphors that will bore

This is not a step by step guide

The demons that live inside

Are not demons at all

Just some brain chemicals

That aren’t mixed right

I don’t mean to belittle your fight

It’s just that anxiety can have a funny side

Have you ever gotten off a bus and sprinted home

Convinced there’s something shady about that man walking on his own

Or waited outside a pub pretending to be on the phone

Because your friends are late and god forbid you sit alone

Have you ever had a panic attack at the ASDA checkout

Because your mum dropped a jar, Dolmio sauce spilled out

As the glass smashed and an assistant comes across

And you’re crying over pasta sauce

One time a phone rang in an office I was cleaning

I ran down six flights of stairs screaming

I didn’t know if I should answer or ignore

Got overwhelmed and headed for the door

But that doesn’t compare to the anxiety I get when I feel overdressed

Nothing in the world causes me more stress

I remember spending my 18th birthday

Hyperventilating outside TGI Fridays

Because I wore make up and put on heels

Everyone else was dressed for a casual meal

Looking back, in a better place, I can laugh

Although I’m not cured I can see I was daft

You don’t always recognise when you’re know you’re being irrational

When you suffer from anxiety it’s understandable

To react in a way that others find funny

So why not share the joke, even if it’s at your expense

Because having anxiety is shitty and learning to laugh is the only defence.

 

 

No Place in Your Life by Sam Moulton

Less of a necessity
more of an accessory
been left out to dry
and for you to forget about me
I’m not needed anymore
you’ve got new friends you can bore
I would die to be there but
you don’t want me around because I make your head sore
with my moaning and groaning and constant complaining
the world sucks and I feel like I’m in training
for the day I’m gonna die
and it’s so draining
to not be needed
by anyone and I even pleaded
for a place in your life
but you never conceded
so I stepped up on the bridge, real nice and high
all that’s left to do now is to fall and die
the cars are zooming past and not one of them can see
my body as it tumbles and I say my last goodbye.