Tag: Travel

#PoeticAnswers 100 – Why?

I don’t really know why
I do what or do or why
I put myself through this
One hundred day quest
To write poetry.

And even though
Some of it wasn’t my best,
I can say I put
Myself to the test
And passed and
A hundred poems can
Attest to that.

But you see,
This was something
I never thought I could do,
And when I said
“I write poetry”
I felt I had to prove
Something to myself
And to others because

I didn’t get a BA or Honours
In English or Literature
Or something relevant to this.
I worked my way from the bottom,
Primitively stringing as many
Words together as possible and
Aiming for the stars but
Preparing to miss.

But on the way down
I found some catharsis.
And a million different
Ways to play with words.
I found my life’s
Meaning and definition
In a thesaurus and dictionary
And found my voice
Through trial and error.

And now I can say
The things I want to say
The things I need to say
The things I didn’t know how to say
The things I didn’t know I wanted to say
In a way that let’s my
Incoherent and bipolar mind
Sound somewhat like it’s sane.

You and I have both found
Ourselves asking why I
Chose to go down this path.
I’ve asked myself this question
A hundred times in
A hundred ways and
I’ve arrived at
A hundred different answers
That twist and bend and
Find their way back to
This place.

This place where
I’ve not found myself but
I know I’m getting warmer.
This place where
I know I’m going to keep looking.
I know I’m around here somewhere.

#PoeticAnswers 77 – When Will I Be Better?

I am sick,
I am sick of being sick.
It’s been six or seven years of
Things being in a constant state of wrong
With my brain and my body and
Being used as a punching bag by bugs and infections,
Leaving bruises, scars and lesions and being beaten
Black, blue and bloody by my immune system
And I am sick of it.

I spent seventeen years in education
Yet my blood, brain and urine
Have been through more tests than me.
And they don’t get it easy because
There’s no pass or fail,
Just sets of numbers I don’t understand
And positives that can have negative connotations
And negatives which could be the best thing for me.

I’ve spent the last five years,
Going in and out of doctors and hospitals
Leaving barely enough time for the revolving doors to spin,
Travelling between wards and beds like
Hotel rooms on the worst overnight stay of my life,
Never staying still long enough to sleep
Or see the latest test result.

I’m treated like a science experiment,
Laid bare for doctors and nurses to test
Both myself and themselves.
I feel like a broken vending machine,
With pills being poured into my mouth
Like pound coins of imprecision
By professionals who can only pray for
The right result.

I’ve spent far too long
Being a rebel crying out for change
Being told that my version of better isn’t the best thing for me,
I’m sick of waiting for eventually and tomorrow and the next day,
I’m sick of wasting my life away in
A busy hospital terminal, waiting for my
Flight number to be up.

Question from my good friend, Courtney.

#PoeticAnswers 62 – What Do Clouds Taste Like?

Clouds taste like journeys,
Travels and memories of
Places they’ve been before.

Evaporation,
Water dying from the heat,
Heading heavenward.

Condensation, the
Droplets come together like,
Soft, cold, sad choirs.

Precipitation,
The weight of emotion makes
Them want to fall back.

Fall back to the earth,
Recycled as rivers, seas
And oceans from raindrops.

But sometimes, they’re lost,
Dripping onto your tongue to
Hydrate and help you.

Then lost forever,
Lost in a thoughtless moment,
Tasting like sadness.

Question from my best friend and favourite kitten, Courtney G

#PoeticAnswers 60 – Why Do People Give Up On You When You Move Away?

I can’t believe,
I won’t believe,
That it was actually intentional.
They’re my best friend so
It cant be malice but
With each passing day, I feel more like
Alice in the rabbit hole.
Falling further away,
The distance stretching like
Shadows in the setting sun.
Even though I’m reaching out,
My calls and messages disappear
Like carrier pigeons shot out of the air
But I don’t know if I’d rather it was
Enemy or friendly fire.

This friendship now feels like
It’s paved with good intentions
And sudden turns for the worst,
And roundabout excuses.
And even though I know the way,
The signposts are vandalised with
New tags with your initials and
A name that I don’t know.
I didn’t realise that, apparently,
You were waiting for the right time to quit.
I hope someday you realise that
Your new nicotine patch or meat substitute
Won’t feel the same.
And eventually,
You’ll come to miss me as much as I miss you.

Because I didn’t mean to hurt you.
And although you feel that
I stabbed you in the back,
Please know that the blade was too long
And I stabbed myself in the heart.
And now there’s an aching in my chest,
Now there’s a hole in my heart,
But you don’t care.

Because I moved away .
Then you put the distance between us.

Question from Lexi H. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 54 – How’s The Poetry Challenge Going?

It’s like climbing a mountain of paper,
Or more appropriately, a mountain range
Because there’s a whole range of topics
But they all feel the same and I’m
Trudging through these snow drafts and
Getting colder in an uphill struggle because
I’m never peaking or reaching the
Tops of my potential because it’s a
Pinball tabletop plateau. That’s to say,
It’s feels like I’m falling flat on an incline and
Bouncing around ideas but nonetheless
Doing the same things over and over again.
I’m becoming snowblind and I
Can’t see the line between disillusion and mirage
And when it looks like I’m making tracks
I’m not smiling it’s just my face
Beginning to crack from the pressure and
Altitude and magnitude of the situation.
I’m seeing the same metaphors and visions
Dressed in different expositions but I know
They’re the same. It’s just repetition
Of ideas and images because I left
My originality behind twenty days ago
Because it ran out and I couldn’t carry
The excess weight of the emptiness around
And sometimes it feels like
I’m not even on the mountain anymore
Because I feel buried, like I’m underground,
Like I’m in hell like Persephone,
Five months after the kidnap.
Almost giving up on her
Fruitless endeavours and tired of
Repeating herself over and over.
Just waiting out for a
Bright new day and waiting for
The sun to come out and melt
All the misery away and
Finally manage to make and feel something
New.

Today’s question comes from a chat with a flyerer on the Royal Mile who was interested in what I do.

#PoeticAnswers 52 – Where Is This Train Going?

It’s not quite a one-way ticket,
But it’s not quite a return either.
It’s quite possibly
The vaguest journey to ever unfold,
Because this train tends to
Go off the rails
And meander and roll towards
Destinations and conclusions
That aren’t on a map.

And this train isn’t fuelled
By any standard means
Once the electricity ends,
Once it runs out of steam,
It starts running on imagination.
At which point, it’s less about
Point A to Point B and more like
Pointed to pointless
Endless, listless and aimless.

Going through cities and countryside
On a magical mystery ride through
Memories and dreams,
Riding into the future through
Detours of maybes,
Past purple skies and cities that never sleep
And fields of clouds and streams of whiskey,
Freestyling and meandering it’s way to
No where in particular.

Question from Michael Clark from Facebook