Poetry

Poetry,

To not rhyme 

Which is not understood,

If not been written,

By the reader,
I can’t rhyme,

Because I,

Can never get,

The right,

Meaning or,

Rhythm in,

My verse,
This poetry,

Never rhymes,

But these,

Still are,

Poems.

How I See Life

In life there’ll always be someone,

Who you really disagree with,

Or someone who you wish didn’t exist,

And you just feel like they’re the person,

Who keeps taking over your thoughts,

And you can’t escape your mind,

No matter how hard you try to free,

Yourself from everything you’re in,
People will tell you that everything,

Will be ok or to just think of something,

Else but the worries take over your brain,
You’re trapped in your brain and you,

Feel strangled in worries and fears,

You feel haunted by other things,

That you could have said,

Or could have done,

They’ll still haunt you and take over,

Your head when you’re old and grey,
You’ll still wonder what,

Would have happened if you’d thought,

Completely differently in a situation,

Or agreed with someone else.
You’ll wonder if another person’s,

Thoughts were right and yours wrong,

You’ll wonder and you’ll regret,

You’ll worry and you’ll fret,
People will tell you not to,

You’ll know all to well not to,

Still you do and there’s nothing you can,

Do about what you think in a time,

Or at a place.
Seeing life is different to living life,

Living is doing and seeing is watching,

Agreeing is thinking the same,

Disagreeing is thinking differently,
Yet liking and disliking are different,

You can agree with someone,

And hate them at the same time,

Just like you can like someone,

And disagree with them,
Your opinion matters as does everyone’s,

Whether you agree or not,

Stand up, speak out,

Don’t hide in shadows,

Don’t be crushed, speak out,

You may regret it later,

Now it’s what matters,

As long as it’s not wrong,

But don’t be haunted by,

All the could’ves and would’ves and should’ves,

This is how I see life.

Be The Same

Be the same,

Follow the crowd,

It’s not like you’re,

Allowed to stand out.
Be the same,

As all the rest,

Camouflaged,

Because you aren’t seen,
Be the same,

Hidden away,

In an identical crowd,

So you aren’t noticed,

For being who you are.

When

When it has ended,

When it’s all over,

When it’s no longer,

The darkest of nights.
When things are back,

The way they used to be,

When life’s finally,

Perfectly normal again.
When I can smile again,

Because there’s nothing,

In the way stopping me,

To just be who I am.
When it’s ended,

When it’s all over,

When it’s normal again,

When I can smile again,

When everyone can,

Just simply live their own,

Lives.

I know this is kind of similar to a poem I’ve already written but I liked the idea of it and wrote it slightly differently. 

To The Grave

To the grave of an unknown soldier,

The one all and no one mourn,

All wonder who it is,

And many mourn the loved ones that were never found,
To the grave of the unknown soldier,

Being unknown means no family to visit your grave,

Yet people will stop and remember you,

As an example of all that were lost,
To the grave of the unknown soldier,

You shall never be forgotten,

By any one and everyone,

For as long as your grave exists,

And longer.
To the grave of the known soldier,

Your fresh flowers yet to wilt,

People walk past to the grave that they are visiting,

People stop here to pray and remember,
To the grave of the known soldier,

With tears in their eyes,

Or streaming down their faces,

People remember what you must have been through,
To the graves of the known,

To the graves of the unknown,

With tears in their eyes,

They try to imagine what you must have been through,
To the graves of all who lost their lives in wartime,

You all shall never be forgotten,

No matter what happens,

We will remember them.

Notes

The music plays in your ears,

Telling you a different story entirely,
You sit in the back of a lecture,

Making sure you have the right notes,
You’re cramming for a test,

Knowing it was a bad idea,

And you can’t remember everything,
You’re sat at a piano in a vast hall,

With a huge expectant audience,

Waiting for your first piece,
Your life is notes,

Of different kinds.

October

It’s the end of October or pretty much anyway. The nights are longer than the days and there’s more rain than in summer. It’s cold now too. There are still some leaves left on the trees but not as many as before. The remaining leaves are yellows and browns or reds. No two the same. It’s pretty sometimes and sometimes it’s grey and dark. This is autumn. That’s all.