Home
ABOUT US
Recent Posts
- Smiling
- Out Of Darkness
- Colour my World
- Assessment
- A Tribute to Frank Ifield by Harriet Blackbury
- Butterflies
- A Tribute To Richard Tandy ( Electric Light Orchestra) by Harriet Blackbury
- A Tribute To Duane Eddy (Duane Eddy & The Rebels) by Harriet Blackbury
- A Tribute To Michael Pinder (The Moody Blues) by Harriet Blackbury
- The Chair Affair
Recent Comments
- Pitch Perfect on
- Pitch Perfect on
- Making A Difference on
- Loose Ends. on
- Harriet’s poem live on LDOK.net on
Categories
- Animals (74)
- Family Life (285)
- Friendship and Trust (129)
- General information (3)
- Hope and Encouragement (170)
- Irony / Inevitability (139)
- Justice / Revenge (30)
- Laughter & Tears (32)
- Life/Living (197)
- Music (329)
- Nature (2)
- Nonsensical Madness (186)
- Obituary / Memorial (61)
- Radio (133)
- Reviews (7)
- Romance (220)
- Sport (144)
- Sunday Poems (15)
- Uncategorized (1)
POEM ARCHIVE
ONLINE SERVICES
BOOKS
Contact Us
Useful Links
October 25, 2017
A room of words, on paper, strewn,
piled in corners, touching the moon.
A room of words, taking up much space;
standing room only, in this place.
A room of words – unedited tosh,
written when the mind was all awash.
A room of words, a life poured out;
drawers full of words, with roots that sprout.
A room of words on paper curled,
never released to the outside world.
A room of words, where thoughts expressed –
simply an outlet, when repressed.
A room of words – never explained.
The contents of, a heart when pained.
A room of words and forgotten schemes.
A life of fantasy and old pipe dreams.
A room of words where madness grew.
Solitude a killer – a witches brew.
A room of words and damnation’s fate.
Sweat and tears by the hourly rate.
A room of words, where shadows dance –
each line depicts, a lost romance.
A room of words, where solace sought,
when a mind, untethered, to fantasy did resort.
A room of words, where truth concealed
ancient wounds that never healed.
A room of words, where mirrors reflect
the writers mood, and thoughts direct.
A room of words, where graffiti runs wild
around the head of an ‘only’ child.
A room of words where nouns provide,
the comfort of adjectives by their side.
A room of words, and repeated rhymes,
that bring to mind, the scene of the crimes.
A room of words, with books unread –
‘originality’ a must, one writer said.
A room of words, that did restart
a fading beat, when stabbed through the heart.
A room of words, in notebooks, old –
undated scribblings full of lice and mould.
A room of words – never transferred
onto the latest icloud, as a pen preferred.
A room of words – a vault from hell,
housing love and laughter, and life too mad to tell.
A room of words, all covered in dust.
The door kept locked – nothing discussed.
A room of words, with a vacant chair.
Thank God, I got – the hell out of there.
No Comments »
No comments yet.
RSS feed for comments on this post.
Leave a comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.