Change (A Short Poem)

A little while ago, I posted a YouTube video alongside my poem, “The Dark Sea”, where I read my poem aloud. So, although I haven’t written a new poem, I decided to do the same thing with one of my older poems, “Change”.

This was the first real poem that I ever wrote, and although I don’t (by far) consider it my best writing, it holds a fair amount of sentimental value to me.

I hope you enjoy! You can thank my lovely boyfriend for the music.


The Dark Sea

You’re too close to me,
Breathing my air,
Bringing despair.

For I long to flee,
Into the sunlight,
Out of your foresight.

Away from your ropes,
Keeping me drowned,
And tied to the ground.

For I can’t escape,
Not from the darkness,
And not from your harness.

You’re pushing me –
Into the debris,
Into that dark sea…

That’s forming around me.


It was recently suggested to me by the very kind Poetically Yours that I should speak some of my poems aloud, so have set up my own YouTube channel for this very purpose. You can listen to my reading of this poem here.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this little poem. If you have the time, do leave me a comment – it’ll make my day!


A slow realisation
Like a desperate plunge
In an icy river
Then a sudden shiver
And I glance at my wrist.
It’s endless and boundless
With a tick-tock ticking:
A never-ending clicking
Before our time runs out.
Ticking, tocking, non-stopping
Is that tick, tick-tocking!



Thanks so much for reading this little poem of mine; if you have time, please do leave a comment in the section below: it’ll make my day!

Picture Credit: Photo by Aron Reacher (Unsplash).

The Joy of the Game

Entombed in self-pity:
A sentiment of war
For no holy city,
Where duelling sides abhor
The white flag that they tore.

They’re fighting the system,
They’re fighting each other
And no one can miss them
When brother beats brother
Against one another.

Martyrs of history:
Tumbling for a name,
Falling for a mystery,
And yet no one’s to blame
But the joy of the game.

I don’t know why, but I’ve felt the strangest need to write poetry over the last few days, so here’s another one. Please do interpret it as you like, but, when I was writing it, I was thinking about how we complain all too often about things that are, when it comes down to it, meaningless. It just seems to me that the reason for fighting is quite often for the fight, itself… as if we enjoy being unhappy.

Please do leave me a comment; I would love to know what you think!

An Empty Bed

Heavy heartbeats
Inside my chest;
Across the sheets:
A living unrest
(I do detest).

And gasping sighs
Slip from my heart:
Endless goodbyes
That will never start
(Not on your part).

And fingertips
Wanting to feel,
Wanting those lips,
Wanting their steel
(You always conceal).

And an aching head
That can’t accept
This empty bed:
a cot unslept.
(And then I wept).


This little poem was written for the purposes of the prompt competition over at Creative Writing Ink, inspired by the above photo. Thank you for reading and please do leave a comment below – it’ll make my day!

Icy Leaves

How merciless is Fortune to bind you,
Keeping you hidden with her harsh techniques.
She wounds me thus: forcing my heart in two,
I see the stark-white pallor of your cheeks.

Though nightfall’s gentle cradle shelters them
From gluttonous Time’s fast-decaying grasp,
I dream of muted breath, a stolen gem
That scolds as it slides from lost lovers past.

The thought of skin on skin as fingers touch
Or rush of passion felt as eye meets eye,
Now makes my heart bleed, but too fast, too much!
So Fortune delights; this: the last goodbye.

Too many glances your image receives,
Yet never will you leave these icy leaves.

My uni-task today was to write a sonnet based on one of the common forms (e.g. Shakespearean or Petrarchan), so I thought I’d share what I came up with. I’m not sure it’s too easy to understand, so, if it helps, this poem is about an unrequited lover, whom, according to the first three stanzas, has lost their beloved to death. The volta in the final couplet reveals, however, that all along, the narrator was addressing a portrait in a book.

Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my sonnet and, if you did, please feel free to leave me a comment.

Splinters through the Earth

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve taken part in Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, but through a combination of having submitted all of my university assessments yesterday, and procrastinating from the large stack of reading that I still need to get through, I decided that I had enough time to give it a go this weekend.

For those of you who don’t already know, the Weekend Writing Prompt is a weekly challenge that provides both a prompt word and picture, along with specific prose and poetry challenges for those who want to take the extra challenge. Today’s prompt word was “fragment”, so, without any more time wasting on my part, I hope you enjoy my takes on this prompt!

Prose Challenge

The Challenge: Tell a story in five sentences about why the ground is cracking up in the below photo. Don’t forget to mention what implications it might have for your character(s).

There isn’t enough time. From right beneath our feet, the lands begin to crack in two, splinters ricocheting through the soil. I glance to my left and send a desperate glance at Jamie, but she only shakes her head; there’s no way out. We tripped the switch and released the trap: the trap that will be our end. There’s nothing to do now but close our eyes and pray.

Poetry Challenge

The Challenge: Write a five line poem that includes at least three of the following synonyms for “fragment”: piece, splinter, snippet, particle, break, shatter, fracture, disintegrate, crack.

Splintering across the night’s sky,
Or shattering through a field of ice,
Cracking through these lands awry
I finally pay the final price:
The toxic spreads – my sacrifice.