Round 3 (and a list of 10 poems I wrote in 2014 which I don't mind you reading if you really want to)

So, a second year down, and I've pretty much kept up my 1 poem a week challenge (I missed one week due to travelling, so wrote 3 the next week). I've now got 100+ poems in this blog. Which is kind of unreal. I still get a little buzz from writing. I get an even bigger buzz if someone actually tells me they've read it. While that's the case I'm going to keep going, I guess. At this point it's not even a choice. It's habit.

So, with that said. If you would like to read something about what I do but reading a poem each week is a challenge (very understandable), find below a list of my favourite poems this year.

The one I most love to perform - Rising Up
This one is quite simple. What would it be like to fly to the edge of space? Find out here

The one least like a poem - The Gap in Conversation
Only very loosely related to the theme of space, this one is a lot more like a very short story than anything else. There's no rhyme, no rhythm. Just words.

The most personal - Dear Thomas, Cat
While I ended up writing a lot of close to the heart stuff, this was definitely the most personal. My Cat was diagnosed with 6 weeks to live around 10 months ago. Throughout this entire year I've not been sure if he'd be here the next week. If I've seemed down at any point it's probably because I've had this thing going on in the background of my life. Only written at the end of December, this definitely summed up a lot of my feelings on the issue.

The one people who like spoken word seem to like - Scars
Definitely a very personal one. I've actually made someone cry after performing this. At the content and not at the writing, I think.

The one which describes why I'm still going next year - Dancing
I'm not good at subtlety in metaphors.

The one with the most extended metaphors - Keep Working
I am, however, good at mixing metaphors.

The one people who like poetry seem to like - Honest Tears
Failed entry to a competition. I still like it.

The best dialogue - The Moon
I performed this one with my friend Dan Shipley, and it's just lots of fun. Particularly if they don't know what's coming.

The one which started off a big project - In Which A Prologue Is Presented
In August I made a pledge to write a whole story. That lead me to produce 4 stanzas on Monday, Wednesday and Friday every week. It was difficult, and kinda fun to actually write something like a story, but I feel like it may have done better with a plan. Still a big moment in my year though to complete it.

The one which was most read - When It's Not Just The News
I wasn't going to include this one. However, it was by far my most read, and also the one I think helped the most people. It was made for the moment and feels dishonest to promote. However, as a reflection of the year, it was such a defining piece of writing that it'd also feel dishonest to leave it out. Written for many friends about one friend in particular. Read something else first.

Dear Thomas, Cat

Dear Thomas, cat
I know I talk to you all the time, but sometimes I don't feel like you can understand me
So I thought I'd try to pursue the process of communication somewhat more formally
Cause I know that although you do turn to me when I say your name each day
Do you really know it refers to you, or do you just think it means "hey"?

Dear Thomas, cat
I've known you since we were young, and we've both grown old together
We both confuse the parents with the amount of time we like spending in bad weather
We're both the most energetic and sleepy people anyone could ever meet
When playing games we can both sometimes struggle to admit defeat

Dear Thomas, cat
Do you actually enjoy it when I scratch you and stroke your fur
You certainly seem to approach something approximating a smile and a purr
We've had special games which nearly always involve you trying to catch something I try to whip away
I estimate your expression is contempt when I prod you with something if you don't (but I do) want to play

Dear Thomas, cat
It's kind of long-winded, but what I'm trying to get at in some way is this
It's a habit of mine and your other pets to try to build up a narrative about you while you exist
We try to work out when you're happy, hungry, going out or feeling great
But this game has had to become a slightly darker one of late

Dear Thomas, cat
You were given 6 weeks to live. You're now on 40 weeks and still going
And I'm trying desperately to work out what emotions you are showing
Your face is contorted. Your tongue hangs out. You dribble on every floor
It seems like the cancer must be hurting you. Causing pain, discomfort and more.

Dear Thomas, cat
I want to imagine you're a fighter. I have this great image in my mind
Of you striking back at this disease, a victory for all cat-kind
You do seem happy to see us still. I know this is merely the image I project
But while you're still seeming to smile and purr, I guess we'll assume you're happy to struggle on for just a little while yet.

Freeform: Cyborg

She's not fully human. At least not any more.
Not since involuntarily gave up a finger or four
And the rest of her hand, her thumb and her palm
Her wrist, elbow and shoulder - but please remain calm

For she means you no harm. For they built her anew
A limb to replace where she once had too few
Not fully flesh, she calls herself cyborg with a gleam
While brightly her arm reflects the smile of a sunbeam

"It's fantastic" she'd say "I'd recommend the experience
Loosing a limb is a testament to my stronger limbs' perseverance
I've got rid of the weak, only the better remain
And look I got to replace where I once had to feel pain"

It's shiny, though slightly dulled from substantial use
From having being subjected lovingly to generous abuse
It can't do everything a human arm can, but also vice-versa
She has strength she never had before - they call her "bear" or "ursa"

But this girl ain't stuck in the constellations, quite the reverse
She's loving life on earth with her gift, and never calls it a curse
And feels nothing but confusion, is even saddened slightly
When others express sympathy, of course doing so politely

"Think of all the things she'll never do. The sensations she wont enjoy.
Think how isolated she'll feel when she holds hands with a boy
She can't knit or crochet, can hardly catch a ball
It's painful to watch her eat, how does she enjoy life at all?"

And these words do annoy her, partially the obvious assumption
But mostly because she feels she has no problem with consumption
She worked hard for straight months to practice technique
Enjoying the challenge of every new skill she should seek

They don't see, can't see, how her life could be better now
The admire her bravery, without seeing it's genuine somehow
And if offered the chance to switch back? She'd know right away
She'd still be the cyborg. She prefers it this way.

Freeform: Tattoos

There are some people who just can't help but leave a mark when you meet them
Leave etches on your memories you can never delete and
Remind you of the other in the earth, those in the planet but not of the same
There are those always in the picture and then there are those that chose the frame

I tell you this so you understand just how special this wise wizened lady was to me
Standing before me voiceless at 5ft3
She'd lived life to it's fullest, never dreaming just doing
Reminding you of how much life you should be pursuing

If she had a tongue she'd curse me for hanging around such an old hack
She'd long ago lost her voice yelling at life to take its lemons back
You ask how I knew without voice this women's great heart?
It's simple. Her entire body was art.

To preserve moments of her life she'd sketched them on her skin
Never one to keep people out or hold feelings in
She was open and honest, she'd tattooed the good and the bad
A tattoo of a young boy, underlined by two dates, of the child she had had.

There was a list of lovers, each with a rating out of ten
There was her Mother's birthday, which she'd once forgotten. Tattoed to never forget again.
There was a world map, coloured in for places she'd been
Her back held the message of "a place I've never seen"

She had hearts and tears, but each held a purpose
This old lady before me, full of art that to anyone else would be worthless
But she was more than her skin. More than just colours and ink swirled.
This lady had become her own tattoo and applied herself the world.

Freeform: The circle in the square

Yo. I'm the circle in the square
The odd guy over there.
I'm the monster in the closet so you'd better beware
But maybe I'm being unfair
So let me say what I mean and you can see if you care

I know I can seem all confident and full of vigour
But that doesn't mean I don't assume people snigger
Behind my back
About social skills I lack
Things others were taught but for me fell through the crack

Is it right, is it fair, is it honest, is it true?
What do they say about me? What could I do?
I've never known if I'm cool or not
Never known if others consider me hot
All I know is there's no social awkwardness I've caused that I've ever forgot

I can assume it's normal, but never really know
Is this social anxiety natural? Can it really be though?
Don't get me wrong. I love to chat and meet people I haven't met before
But when I think of what they must think of me I head to the door
Not wanting to plague them with my presence any more

I've been called unusual. I've been called weird.
I've been outed and laughed at, but I don't think ever feared.
I'm the butt of many jokes, The stereotypical guy.
The one who is seen as all surface and no inner, but why?
I guess that's just how it goes. And why that is, man, no one knows.

Just know this
I do feel awkward
I do wonder what people think of me.
I'm aware it's probably not much
And if it is much, it's probably not good.
But I don't really mind.
Just know I've yet to meet someone I dislike.
And, if you are happy talking to me
I'm happy to stay a little longer and chat with you.