Red. Scarlet Red.
Like the colour of their blood.
A horror, lies in Flanders Fields,
between the rows of us.
We ask not for mercy,
just to remember what befell,
and through the sea of ruby red,
a story we must tell.
We are a mark,
a reminder,
a memory,
telling tales of courage
and men who paid their debt.
And beneath the days of golden rays,
we vow: “lest we forget.”
Tag Archives: Poems
Untitled: 4
I am old enough to have known better,
so why didn’t I?
Am I too trusting?
Am I just naive?
Am I an idiot?
Am I all three?
Sometimes it feels like it,
at least,
recently.
Long Roads
The road is long
and sometimes
hard to follow
and disappears among the fog
or lost beneath a blanket of snow.
The winding bends
and dead ends
seem unnecessary
and pointless
and more hassle than the journey is worth.
But every turn
leads to the straight and narrow,
the wisps of fog clear,
and sunbeams melt the snow,
leaving behind
a brighter and clearer tomorrow.
The Devil (Drives A Red Corvette)
I should have listened when they said,
“he will only get in your head,
and make you think that you’re the problem,
while he takes another girl to bed”
but I just wanted to believe,
all the things he said to me.
He doesn’t talk much,
though his talk is sweet.
No,
it’s not sadness –
just regret
from ignoring all the flags,
though they were waving in the wind,
bright and burning red.
I look back
at my naivety,
feeling stupid for letting him in,
but they say the devil drives a hard bargain.
How were I to know
it came in the shape
of a red corvette?
Wildfire
Dangerous
deadly
hazardous to the environment
a simple carless spark, spreading
a perfect solitary paradise
engulfed in flames
thick clouds of charcoal smoke against the azure sky
as it burns for days, weeks, months on end
merely a shadow of what it was
of everything it used to be
blackened
broken
barren
burned beyond recognition
the debris of ash and dust
a mark of devastation
destoryed by wildfire,
lost forever.
Eclipse
Two halves
dark and light
finally equal
for the first time.
Abyss
You’re surrounded
covered by darkness
like a blanket
but it is not warm
or comforting.
It is cold,
like shards of rice ripping through your skin
deeper and deeper into your soul
drawing you in
until the light fades
and is replaced
with the nothingness,
the abyss.
Untitled: 3
I saw you drive by my house this morning
and I felt that familiar feeling
that knot in my stomach
that elevated heartbeat
that I used to get
when I knew you were coming to see me.
I think about you all the time,
in the most uninteresting moments,
because my mind wanders and I wonder
are you thinking of me too?
Do you tell stories about me
of the things we used to do together?
No, of course not…
but, do you?
I thought about dialling your number
but I decided against it.
Sometimes, the past is meant to be left behind.
Untitled: 2
He was lightning
and she was the thing
he was about to strike
leaving irreversible damage
on her body forever.
Keyboard Warrior
You hide behind
a computer screen
because it’s easier to be mean
when you cannot look your victim in the eye
when you cannot see
the damage you are causing
to their body
to their mind
and you don’t even think twice.
You type and type and type and type
out of jealousy or strife
your fingertips slamming every key
like a perfectly
rehearsed performance
because it’s not just one
or two shows you have played
the whole world is your stage
but you are
a disgrace to your name
or hang your head in shame
as you exclaim
that the battle has barely begun
but you do not care
about the already irreversible damage
your words have done.
I’ll Meet You In Paris
I’ll meet you in Paris
behind the Eiffel Tower,
I’ll meet you in Paris, my love,
at the midnight hour.
Let word not spread from your lips
let your eyes not tell a story.
Just meet me in Paris, my love.
I’ll meet you in Paris, dear
somewhere between the crisp white sheets,
I’ll meet you in Paris, my love,
upon those cobbled, lamp-lit streets.
We’ll dance among the moonshine
and take polaroids of love,
and kiss amongst a thousand stars,
until the sun comes up.
I’ll meet you in Paris, my dear,
just say you’ll meet me too,
for Paris is our sacred place,
where I fell in love with you.
Inspired by “In Paris With You” by James Fenton.
Free Spirit
She was the kind of friend
that would have you
dancing on tables
and taking shots of Tequila
at 3am
reminding you how it feels
to be a free spirit again.
Past, Present, Future
3 months.
You disappeared
without warning,
no note,
no explanation.
But I found you
in the middle of the Middle East
in the house where you were born,
rediscovering your roots?
“Something like that,” you tell me.
Then I realised,
you were not looking ahead,
you were looking back.
You tell me that things would have been different
if you had just walked away from your father’s world.
“This is what I made of myself!”
But it is not who you wanted to be,
a ballerina was your childhood dream,
written on a list buried deep in an orchard.
“This little girl was strong,”
yet so is the woman standing before me,
having witnessed more things than a soul should ever see.
You thought going back to your roots
would assuage your guilt
of all the things you have done,
but the universe was begging you
to wipe the slate clean,
begin again.
You tell me I should not have come,
but I tell you that you are not alone,
the only way I know how.
“I just want you to come home with me.”
I know it’s hard
and I know you want to change,
but I can change with you,
and as I place a kiss upon your fingertips
I wonder
is there anything more I can do to stop you
from wanting to stay?
Is there anything more I can say?
No,
of course not.
Your mind is made up.
Something which
is difficult to change.
My heart is aching
because I want you with me
need you with me,
as you have been for the last eight years,
as I become the person I want to be.
My whole world revolves around you.
I don’t know how it works any other way.
I sit on the plane and journey home,
alone
wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
It is then I find your necklace
buried deep in my pocket,
it is not a heart-shaped locket
but it might as well have been,
because I know what this means.
We did not say those three famous words,
though we felt them with our souls:
“I’m fighting for you.”
“I know.”
Overgrown
She cared for him
like a precious garden
with flowers bursting from the ground
a majestic masterpiece of exotic colour,
lavender, bluebells, marigolds, roses,
poppies, daisies, sunflowers, and petunias
carefully planted and pruned
the kind of garden that wins a prize
but then he broke her heart, and now
the garden is so overgrown
with weeds and insects
running wild
trying to break free.
16 Unrequited
I looked at him,
the first boy who ever loved me,
the first boy I never loved back,
and realised that not loving him
was the wisest decision I ever made,
as he could never be everything I need
for I am a grown woman
yet he is a grown man,
stuck at sixteen.
Dragons
She didn’t need a white knight
to save her.
She was a warrior
and ready to fight the dragons
as an army of strong and able women
stood behind her
vowing to fight them too.
81 Days
It’s been 81 days since you left
and I still wait
with bated breath
for someone to exclaim
that it is all a dream
and what I know
isn’t really happening.
It’s been 81 days
since you last smiled
a cheshire cat grin –
the kind that makes you feel something,
everything.
It’s been 81 days
since you last spoke
some words
any words
but being five thousand miles away
I will never know what they were.
It’s been 81 days since
I last saw your face
on my screen
as a human being
alive
pulse
beating.
81 days later
and it has yet to sink in
that you’re not coming back
that you will not laugh
sing
cry
joke
breathe
or be
again.
Writing: Some Questions To Consider
I know that for most of us, writing can often feel like a chore. It can feel like we have to have to sit down and write something otherwise we cannot call ourselves writers. Or, we think that we have somehow failed if we write nothing at all, or have not achieved the amount we had wished to write in a given period of time.
But, as most writers know, and I’m sure you are aware if you’re reading this, that sometimes we just lack inspiration. The metaphorical land where all of our inspiration lives has run out of food and water and is just sitting barren in our minds.
Or perhaps, we have inspiration for something – an idea for a script or a book that we desperately want and feel the need to write, but we have no direction as to where it is going to go, or how we are physically going to craft it into something readable.
If you are sitting there reading this, and you’re struggling with one or all of these problems, fear not. I have gathered together the following questions, to hopefully ignite the spark of inspiration once again, to turn those writing dreams into realities.
(These questions should be used as a foundation to build the world that you’re trying to create, and understand what it is that you’re hoping to achieve by writing a particular piece.)
All ideas are only as good as the characters that drive them, and all good ideas need to be dramatic.
- What is the story?
- What is the central dramatic action in your idea?
- Do you have a compelling enough journey for the audience and character to go on?
- If it’s a series or a serial, do you have enough story/stories to keep it going over a number of episodes or weeks?
Creating a coherent world is crucial.
- What are the rules of your story universe?
- What do and don’t we need to know/see?
Less is often more. The writer needs to know all the rules and background, but the audience only needs enough to stay hooked without being confused.
- What kind of story is it?
- Are you using a recognisable genre, such as thriller or romantic comedy?
- If you are inspired or influenced by an archetypal story of old, what is it that’s different about your idea?
You need to bring fresh perspectives to familiar tales, worlds, subjects and genres.
- What is the tone and feel of the story?
- Are they consistent and coherent? There is nothing more frustrating than a slasher movie that suddenly turns into a rom-com or vice versa.
Sometimes clashing genres can work if they’re handled intelligently.
And the emotional response you are trying to aim for is just as important.
- What physical reaction are you looking for? Something so poignant it makes the audience cry? Something funny it makes their sides hurt from laughing too much?
You need to know why this idea now is important.
- Is it something that keeps you up at night and has really got under your skin?
- What is it about?
- What is the theme?
- What are you trying to explore?
- What are you hoping to communicate?
Don’t write anything you don’t care about just to be expedient, because it will only ever be competent at best.
- Is it an idea that will strike a real chord with an audience?
- Who do you think will want to see it?
If you have a burning desire to write, then it’s more likely to grab our attention.
I hope that these questions have proved useful to you, and have allowed you to break through the brick wall that some call writer’s block. And I can’t wait to read your masterpiece!
I Am Evidence
So, I’ve been a long time watcher of Law and Order: SVU, and after seeing Mariska Hargitay’s documentary I am Evidence I was inspired to write something… so I thought I would share that here with you.
I want to strongly stress that I am not a victim, and this is simply a poem I was inspired to write after hearing others experiences in the eye-opening documentary. However, if you or someone you know has been affected by sexual assault, I have included links at the bottom of this post for resources and helplines for both the UK and the USA.
I Am Evidence
To them, I am not a woman.
I am a temple, trashed by the careless actions of another.
Burnt. Bruised. Battered. Beaten. Branded.
I am a rite of passage, stolen in the blink of an eye,
another t-shirt torn,
another skirt ripped,
another “she was asking for it”,
as if the way I’m dressed offers an excuse for the violation of my body.
To them, I was a dreamer;
bursting at the seams at the possibility of life,
a garden full of flowers, blooming.
But now, I am a wasteland. A graveyard.
They don’t say it out loud, but they think it’s my fault,
that I’m a “whore” and other names they care to give me.
But I’m not.
This was not my fault.
This was nobody’s fault, except the man who raped me.
And they do not care. They’ll never care.
Until it happens to them.
To their mother, their aunt, their sister, their daughter…
To them, I am just a number.
A statistic.
I am another name on a list of names,
each one of them just like me.
I am a code on a box.
a witness for the prosecution,
another file on a stack of files,
another soul seeking justice that may never come,
another case discarded,
another kit untested.
To them,
I am evidence.
Some important links & information:
The Joyful Heart Foundation
United Kingdom:
Rape Crisis England and Wales
0800 801 9999
www.rapecrisis.org.uk
The National Association for People Abused in Childhood (NAPAC)
0800 801 0331
www.napac.org.uk
SurvivorsUK Helpline Web Chat
Text: 020 3322 1860
Whatsapp: 07491 816 064
www.survivorsuk.org
Mothers of Sexually Abused Children (MOSAC)
0800 980 1958
www.mosac.org.uk
SupportLine
01708 765200
www.supportline.org.uk
Safeline
Male Helpline: 0808 800 5005
General Helpline: 0808 800 5008
Young People’s Helpline: 0808 800 5007
Text Helpline & Online Advisors: 07860 027573
www.safeline.org.uk
United States of America:
National Child Abuse Hotline:
1-800-422-4453
http://www.childhelp.org
National Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or 1-800-787-3224
www.thehotline.org
Rape, Abuse and Incest National Hotline
Rainn.org
1-800-656-HOPE
National Teen Dating Abuse Helpline:
1-866-331-9474
www.loveisrespect.org
National Suicide Prevention Line:
1-800-273-8255
www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org
Safe Horizon Rape and Sexual Assault Hotline (New York):
212-227-3000 or 1-866-689-HELP (4357)
www.safehorizon.org
Peace Over Violence (California)
310-392-8381
www.peaceoverviolence.org
Statistics and Facts:
Sexual Assault:
- 1 in 3 women and 1 in 6 men are survivors of sexual violence.
- 60% of survivors are sexually assaulted by someone they know.
- An American is sexually assaulted every 92 seconds.
- 2 out of 3 sexual assaults are not reported to the police.
- For every 1,000 reported rapes, only 6 perpetrators will be incarcerated.
Domestic Violence:
- 1 in 4 women and 1 in 7 men have suffered severe violence from an intimate partner.
- 3 women are killed by an intimate partner every day.
- 55% of female homicides were related to domestic violence.
- 93% of those 55% of female homicides, the killer was a current or former intimate partner.
- 57% of women and 17% of men who are domestic violence survivors have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)
Child Abuse and Neglect:
- Every year, U.S Child protective services referrals involve 7.2 million children.
- A report of child abuse is made every 10 seconds.
- 4 to 5 U.S children die every day from abuse and neglect.
- 77% of child fatalities involve one parent.
- 75% of children who die of abuse and neglect are under the age of 3.
Source: Joyful Heart Foundation Infographic
Photo: IMDB
thebecksedit.co.uk 