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Tag Archives: poems

Happy Colour

Yellow wellies
Trudging home
Side by side with imaginary
Red and blue ones,
The sky was dark
And the smell was of
Wet hair and disappointment
And new rubber.

Yellow bike
With only two wheels
And thick tires
And no balance at all,
The taste was metallic and red
And the smell was of
Exasperation
And new rubber.

Yellow pencils
New and sharp
With all the big girl stationery
That went with them,
Feeling all shiny
But the smell was of
Pencil dust and loneliness
And new rubber.

Yellow converses
Big school
No map to show
How to make friends,
Tasting the bitter held-back tears
And the smell was of
Concrete and shame
And new rubber.

Yellow motorbike
Recklessly fast
Caught in the silence
That was always too loud,
Sounding like crumbling waves
Under a ship
And the smell was of
Fire and silence
And new rubber.

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I wish I could’ve shown the yellow motorbike (because it would’ve meant that I had one) but all I have are the converses. They’re new so when I wear them they’re so bright I feel like I have mini suns on my feet 😉
A lot of people think my favourite colour is red or yellow because I wear a lot of them but I wear them to stand out so that I can’t hide, I’m trying to be less shy. My favourite colour is actually orange but I guess you can understand that it was easier to find a red coat than an orange one. I still very much like yellow even if it’s not my favourite.

 
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Posted by on 12 May 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Winter song

Volatile
Snowflakes
Dan(sing) freely
Before delicately
Brushing (again)st
Your skin and
Falling gently
Down.
(Take)ing its
Time is slo(wing)
Down.
(And) snowflakes (fly)
* * *

 
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Posted by on 25 April 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Around her, life and
Noise in
All directions but sere-
Ne she stays
And absorbs the colour like a
Star; diffident angel shining bright

unnamed

 
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Posted by on 24 April 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Legacy

From the dark reaches of his world
A friend reaches out
A far cry from a desolate place
Asking for a light
Asking for proof that he will not
Fade to dust
Without anyone even knowing who
He was,
Who he tried to be.
In the end we are all stories
He says.
But where do the stories go when we die?
Only the best are remembered
And we all want to be on that list.

But I can’t reach you
My friend
I live in a dark corner of my own
And I have no light to give you
I am still looking for my own
And I am terrified
Of fading to dust
Before I become anything more.

When we are all stories
And nothing more
Who can say who we really were?
Only our stories can tell
Which is why in all the myth
On my wall and yours
There is a little bit of us,
A trail of breadcrumbs
For whoever cares enough to find
The right pieces,
And find out who we were.

I doubt anyone will find us,
But I hope people will recognise
Themselves in me or you
And bring us to life again
For the time of a story

 
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Posted by on 23 April 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Geek Sentimentality

Like getting to Hyrule to find
No princess needs saving,
Or finding out that there is no
Pokemon champion to beat,
Or Bowser left without a fight,
And no-one dies at the end of Twilight.

Like when you realise the game was was real,
And Spock’s mother dies,
And Anakin is just a tormented man
And Indiana Jones and James Bond
Are getting old.

Like when Catelyn Stark had to die
Along with everybody else,
And The Doctor had to say goodbye
To Amy and Rory and River,
And Velutha was killed before
Questions were asked.

When you left like that,
I wish I could have
Rewritten the
Story
……………••••••••••……………….••••••••••………••••…….••••……••..•.•.•..

If you didn’t understand all the references here they are in order: The Legend of Zelda, Pokemon, Mario (super Mario bros), Twilight (specifically: Breaking Dawn), Ender’s Game (actually that was so vague it could’ve been anything (like Zathura) but it’s especially bad in Ender’s Game), Star Trek, Star Wars, Indiana Jones, James Bond, Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, The God of Small Things 🙂

 
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Posted by on 20 April 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Sticks and Stones: Words DO hurt!

The fight I fight is a hard one to fight
In this unending battle of words and phrases
Rhetoric and politics
Sociological facts and behavioural economics,
One is often bombarded, assaulted,
By claims impossible to deny
Tension is constant, pride omnipresent
Once one is besieged, one loses all moral
The opponent gets cocky, and fires a barrage
Arguments big and small, almost makes you cry

But then, there it is, the loose thread!
A quick pull, and the façade falls to pieces
The assault has ceased, the arguments gone
The mighty foe now just looks dumb

Now I am the master of his demise!

… I won Best Speaker at a debate exhibition today.

WHY…HELLO!ITSBEENALOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONGTIME//REFERENCE.EXE=>COMPLETE……………………………………………………………………………DR4G0NSP4RK……………………..

I have cleared most urgent things on my to-do list to bring you this. It’s been a while and I just had a great day because of this victory in debate, so I felt like writing about it. This is my first attempt at pseudo-poetry, so don’t be too harsh. 🙂 See you all whenever. Take care.

DragonSpark

 
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Posted by on 30 March 2015 in Dragonspark

 

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Roses are blue
Violets are red
I don’t know
I’m colourblind

……………………………••••••••……….••••••••…………••••••••••………..•••••••………..

I’m a bit disturbed by the lack of lighthearted posts on my part recently… I have been writing them I swear I just haven’t got around to posting (or finishing) them :/
Here’s one, I’ll work on the others…

 
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Posted by on 24 March 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Dressed in Blue

I’m not like all the other girls
Those dressed in pink and baby blue
I disregard all high heeled shoes
And disrespect “the fashion now”

Whenever I am forced to go
Do shopping like all women do
I drag my feet, disguise my sighs
And try to cover up disgust

I’d be much happier I think
In any store that doesn’t sell
Shoes and trousers, coats and socks
T-shirts, jumpers, shirts or scarves

I stand above all jewellery
(Except for what is sparkly)
And must admit that honestly
I hate shopping, it hates me.

 
5 Comments

Posted by on 14 February 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Perceptions

Bare chested
I sip foul water perched on a branch
And call it “high tea”

……………………………………….

Inspired by Bjorn Rudberg’s High Tea

 
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Posted by on 20 January 2015 in Banzaï

 

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Try harder

Grey winter sky
Like ashes.
So many people parading in the streets
Not enough.
Big words of liberty an unity
Said too lightly.
Proving they were wrong
To dead men.
Proud hearts and minds
Following the crowds.
Call for change
Others should bring about.
Hope of great deeds to be done
Too little
Too late.
Less than half
of half
of half
of half
a country
Feels concerned.

I hope that the end of the story won’t be
Not enough, not from me, too little, too late.
The end of the story
Should always be Hope

IMG_2882.JPG

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

A warning: the first condescending comment about “poor old Europe or small weak France we’ll help you get out of this” will not be appreciated. (Needless to say neither will the next ones but I doubt there’ll be any right?)

I haven’t posted for a while, for numerous reasons… but I’m back at least for a while 🙂

 
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Posted by on 14 January 2015 in Banzaï

 

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