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Lyric poetry

Welcome to the lyric poetry section of my portfolio. Lyric poetry is typically accepted as a poem that expresses the feeling of the poet. The rules about the lyric form are pretty loose though many forms do have a metrical quality, Possibly the most popular form of lyric poetry is the 14 line sonnet. Personally  I struggle with writing sonnets as I find the whole metrical thing very confusing so I am going to concentrate of writing the following poems in my own style. Typically in history lyric poetry was often spoken while accompanied by a stringed instrument therefore it should have a musical quality to it. Altogether it is a beautiful form of poetry and one of my personal favourites. Here are my examples.



I think of the situation I find myself in,
And scream “let me out of here!”
The others in the room look at me,
My irrational behaviour fills them with fear.
As if a psychopath is seated amongst them.
For their peace of mind I must go it is clear.

The door is locked and I don’t have the key.
The window is open but we’re on the top floor.
The cabinet is full to the brim,
The drawer is too small.
The others in the room simply sit there and stare.
With resignation, they await my calamitous fall.

The atmosphere is heavy, the air is hot.
Egg shells are scattered across the floor.
My eyes avert, search for some space.
I struggle to see through the facade.
My heart screams, my head spins.
Will I ever see this nightmare through?


Let me in

I have something to say to the woman I love.
Please, if you would just open the door.
I have wronged, there is no further doubt.
I understand that I set myself up for the fall.

All of those years that I kept her arms length.
Neglected, my career took over my life.
I left her alone for weeks at a time.
I forgot the vows I took, when I made her my wife.

Now she has left me, my world is in pieces.
And you won’t allow me to make my amends.
I know you’re her father, and that you care for her.
But let me in, my guilt does not pretend.


Self doubt

I live in a constant state of self doubt.
Positivity often fails to climb the wall.
The mundane reality offers no way out.
No summit to stand atop and see it all.

Every day is a battle with short changing time.
Too many hurdles need clearing.
Taking a break carries no crime.
But no rest, the destination is nearing

So close yet so far, as is the way of life.
It tests resolve until the bitter end.
It opens the door for so much strife.
These pitfalls, to oblivion you must send.


In the dark

I stand in the void, there is nothing around me.
Isolated from civilisation, emptiness is all I see.
To find the way back, strong and brave I must be.
I stand in the void, there is nothing around me.

I sit in the dark, unseen shadows surround me.
No flame to enable my blind eyes to see.
To find the way out, courageous I must be.
I sit in the dark, unseen shadows surround me.


Smothered love

I am here for you, whenever you choose to call.
My hand will extend, whenever you fall.
My heart has no boundaries; it does not mock your pride.
Just call out my name, I will run to your side.
I will stand on the edge so that you can walk safely beside me.
For my sense of responsibility heightens when danger I see.
You are invincible when I am beside you.
For you are my life, my love is true.


Tension headaches

I feel as though my head is splitting.
Tension headaches keep me down.
War with health is a poorly matched battle.
I lay groaning, with a pain filled frown.

I feel as though the room is spinning.
Aching body cries out in pain.
The day previous was of intensive labour.
My badly adjusting joints driving me insane.



A knawing idea on the mind of many artists is will my art go on forever.
Will one day children look upon page twelve and see my name in a bold black header.
Will one day a prodigy read and look and aspire to break the mould as I once did.
Will one day a school be built with my name wreathed in gold above the entrance.

As many centuries ago a warrior kills and dies for eternal glory.
Would their poem would be sung throughout the land
Passed down from father to son and on to another.
To form a legend, a myth perhaps even one day a religion.

A human idea, no other creature on earth is possessed this way.
A bi- product of a romanticised culture, this need for immortality
Even though we will never live long enough to receive this honour.
The footprint preserved could change the world for the better.

If you were to ask me as an artist If I think this is right.
If you have created something, gave it life and wings so it can fly.
It’s only natural to mourn if it were to perish or disappear out of sight.
Yes, I want to art to fly high, now and forever.


In the coffee shop

The chair opposite is empty.
That’s how I wish it to remain.
For in the coffee shop, lone souls reach a sense of peace.

Shelter under the canopy, hide from the sun.
Spark a cigarette, take a drag.
No thought for others on this street

Street musicians strum, sing.
Provide a little colour to go with my café latte.
Pamper my senses whilst in my seat.

With mellowed mind I wonder.
At the lives of varied passer-by’s.
Their foot steps form an intermittent beat.

Occasional glances pass my way.
But my indifference always wins.
No soul is welcome in the opposite seat.



I am truly lost.
No concept of past or future.
No idea of which way to turn.
No sense of what I am looking for.
Just a sea of confusion, drowning.

What lies before me is shrouded in mist.
My compass is spinning furiously.
My spotlight is blinding my eyes.
My glasses caked in dust.
Limbo is a home for such.

When will the contortion stop?
The vagueness set me free.
The gravity feel lightened.
The mountains collapse.
When will I no longer feel lost?



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