the scenic view as i walk through layers upon layers of small happenings
of joggers a train speeding by the sparkle of dew on grass crooked rubbish sacks beside the bins
an empty park with ghosts of children past
i rejoice in the days that begin when winter ends
when i wake and behind the curtains the sunshine is waiting for me
the grey, miserable days can be forgotten replaced by hope, possibilities that don’t look so impossible
showered, and dressed i walk, out into the park where the trees wave at me and twigs snap underneath my feet
further into wooded areas it is like i am alone, with a different kind of magic the hum of the road is almost inaudible
it feels i could walk forever releasing my worries
in curiosities of nature – discarded eggs, feathers, and a pair of mittens dangling on a low hanging branch from the tree
in the event the person who lost the pair may return for them
how separate we can become
lost from what we hold dear
relying on a stranger to take notice and help us find our lost belongings again
NOTES The sun was out over the Bank Holiday weekend and, as it goes, suddenly everyone in the country appeared to be a lot happier. I actually wrote this poem a couple of months ago and just added a few details when I edited it a few days ago. I’m not happy with the ending of the poem, but it did leave me stumped. I imagine something will come to me eventually though.
I was looking for a picture to pair with this poem, and it begs the question. What does poetry look like? I imagine it might be something different for all us. What kind of visuals do you associate with poetry?
Yes, for me it is the dirty great London underground. Travel, movement, big cities, and people.
my love of poetry began as i turned sixteen in the bathroom at college scribbling this idea into threads of lines a poem? damn i hate poetry
i thought that then
yet i pursued poetry as a detective would a lead whilst growing into my own skin reading pages of other poets through poetry i discovered my identity and made friends too experimenting with styles, and topics what i liked, what others enjoyed feeling the power of my punctuated thoughts punching through people’s perspective of who i was
now do you see i am a poet – writing is my superpower.
I’m selling my chapbook of travel poetry Here comes the Sun on Payhip through November £1.50 for sixty pages of free-verse / prose / haiku & micro-poems. Shares would be appreciated. I’m so proud of this collection of poems. It has had favourable feedback, so I hope if you download Here comes the Sun you will enjoy it too.