Some Poetry I Wrote when I was a College Freshman

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on June 11, 2012

As someone who earns a living from writing it will not surprise you to learn that I have periodically forayed into poetry. In fact I still write poetry and I have done since I was seven years old. That means I now have over 20 years experience and I am just now beginning to produce work that may be described as “passable”. But, you see, young college siblings, I didn’t realize this when I was at college. I genuinely thought my ramblings had some kind of artistic merit just because I used a metaphor and broke
Lines
In a
Random way.

The freshman year is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. You are taken from the proverbial cave out into the bright sunlight. For me that was a lot to cope with. One of the ways I managed my feelings was to write. Sometimes what I wrote become what I imagined to be poetic works of great genius. So, without further ado, here for your amusement, are some of my efforts at plumbing the depths of my soul during my freshman year.

The Happiness Thief

My stolen thoughts, focused on the pointless
Joy brings the joyless
Healing brings pain poignant
Found Holy Grail
Cursed, still to fail
Twisted, slowly turning stale
Hard yet broken
Clutching at fleeting love tokens
Cold!
Frostbite fingers frozen
Tears flow from a remorseless ocean
The inside buzzing with desperation flies
Peace is brief
Devoted and meek
Turning every cheek
But still she won’t speak
In love with the happiness thief

Oh Nia

Oh nia you’re so sweet
you remove spinach from you’re teeth
its high in iron
eggs you will be frying
and pancake mix to your face you’ll be applying

It’s your birthday
and I did a survey
of the jokers and clowns in cardiff town
and when i mentioned your name not one did frown

Oh nia
you’re so beuatiful
your trousers contain a booty-full
you live in flat twenty
smoking golden v until its empty
and drinking tea a plenty

And maybe
one day you’ll keep dogs and give them shots against rabies
and frequently, see members of your family
your face covered in obscenities

Oh nia
it’s your birthday
maybe one day
you’ll rear
little kittens and take them market every thursday
and sell raffle tickets
ofr you’re homely apple pies while riding a pony
in country fields
collecting apple yeilds in orchards
making cider for debauched drunkards

Oh Nia
your eyes are like fireflies
I devised a way
to describe your beauty through wordplay
it’s my duty on your birthday
So on this special day
i’ll raise a glass and say
hey happy birthday
Let’s go to Moloko’s next thursday (because high contrast is playing)

 

 

 

 

 


    

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