Poetry and Creative Writing for All

Diane Crouch

I am thrilled that my poem "Architect of my Disaster" has been selected as Poem of the month! I am passionate about my writing and couldn’t believe it when I heard this poem was chosen as it is a personal favourite (I must confess to getting a bit emotional! )

I live in Bedfordshire and have two children. Matt, 28 is a police officer and Nikki, a nanny, is 23. They have always shown unconditional love and support to me and have tirelessly listened to all my poems over the years. I absolutely love to write and am so grateful for the support from my children. They have always been such an inspiration to me.

Writing has given me so much and been my therapy through much of my life, none more so than at the loss of my Father in 1992. Following the passing away of my treasured Dad, my writing helped me to return to the normal world following months of dark days. He is still a major influence in my continued writing. Losing my mother shortly after transformed my style to new levels and inspired me to pursue my dream of one day having my own book published.

My new challenge is song writing. Combining my passion of writing and my love of music I have so far written 6 songs and hope to soon complete an album.

Many people have inspired and influenced me – and continue to do so, but none more than my much-loved family. If my work could inspire and help others, this would show my gratitude to those who have inspired me.

Architect of my Disaster

I’d always looked for reasons, wanted actions justified
Searched for reassurance – whenever criticized
Questioned my integrity, my answers got refused
I created validation so my actions were excused
My search continued blindly, my habits stayed the same
Oblivious to change, too vain to take the blame
Hindsight could have showed to me the error of my ways
But it came in sight too late; my mistakes were all in play

I failed to recognise, all the gifts that I’d been sent
Instead I used excuses –and my gifts were left unspent
So much easier to blame and to turn the other cheek
Using obstacles not reasons as to why I acted weak
"if I’d been born on Tuesday, I’d have been so full of grace
Instead I was a Mondays child, poor me a pale fair face"

But from every sleeping victim, a hero can arise
To learn from my mistakes I changed a loss into a prize
I’ve turned my life around, once a failure now a master
Farewell to who I was, an architect of my disaster

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I Watch the Candle Burn

I see the candle glow, I watch its gentle dance
Flickers of the flame, a pure hypnotic trance
My mind at peace in nowhere land, a chance to reminisce
of all the things life’s given me and some of those it missed

I picture those who’ve touched my world and carved a poignant niche
And those who I let slip away, the ones just out of reach
Faces start to form in the shadows from the flame
A magic silhouette, each face a different name

The dancing flame continues, to rise then gently fall
Holds my gaze then beckons me, determined to enthral
The faces slowly disappear, never to return
Nostalgic memories as I watch the candle burn

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Mother Earth

I park the car away from crowds
I need to be alone,
I cannot face the noise today,
Those ringing telephones.
So I decide I must escape
I need no company
I want to disappear
Amongst the green grass and the trees,

I notice things while walking,
I'd forgotten they exist,
I see the beauty all around,
This peacefulness I've missed.
Butterflies are floating,
so colourful and graceful,
baby birds protected,
by mothers, oh so faithful

Nature at its best,
Nothing else can be compared,
I walk beneath the trees,
no reason to be scared
I look into the distant fields,
Butter cups amass,
No evidence of human life,
no one there to harass

Just empty space, so welcoming,
no deadlines here to meet,
on this day I broke away
and found my safe retreat.

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Old Man

I look at his face, wrinkled and worn
So weary with age, sad and forlorn
A lonely old man, with time on his hands
Solitary thoughts, only he understands

I try not to stare at this fragile old man
Consumed by fatigue, his face pale and wan
I silently ask: "has life treated you bad?"
This man with no name, so lonely and sad

Is he old and alone by misfortune or choice?
If I ask him his name, will he ignore my voice?
Does he have family, if he has, do they care?
Do they know he sits here, every day in despair?

I wonder what caused him to be in such pain
When did he lose faith, all hope was in vain?
I see an old man, holding on at the brink
Dissolving his sadness, with just one more drink

Each day as I watch this old man fade away
Struggles to stand, he just staggers and sways
He clutches the bench to support his small frame
Then sips from his Can to keep himself sane

With tears in my eyes, I turn and depart
How did this old man pull the strings of my heart?
With time running out, will he find inner peace?
Or does he believe life’s already ceased?

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Life

Sometimes this life can get us down- now and then we lose our way
Instead of looking forward, we get lost in yesterday
No point in looking backwards – what’s done is in the past
Instead, look to tomorrow – make each special moment last

No point in negativity, a draining, drowning force
It clouds our opportunities, dilutes our chain of thoughts
Life will always be a conflict, often happy, sometimes sad
We should hold on to the good times and release those that are bad

To help maintain a balance, we sometimes need a friend
Someone who can be trusted, a broken heart they will mend
A friendship – no conditions- just knowing someone’s there
To offer love and hope – when you reach times of despair

A friend in need – a friend indeed, no truer words were spoken
Someone to take the pain away, when all around seems broken
This roller-coaster ride, can be fragile, lonely too
Hold on to those around – who truly care for you

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Cool to be Hot

As she sharpens her claws and lays out her net
She knows what she wants and how she will get
By day she’s a mother, works hard for her pay
By night she’s a tramp, knows she’ll get her own way

Determined to shock she parades to attract
Strutting her stuff, then she’ll pounce and attack

So cunning her plan, a devious plot,
Demeanour so cool, intentions so hot

She stalks on the edge, her prey unaware
Her rampant behaviour, sure to ensnare

With one sudden pounce, he’s there in her clasp
A fool to believe that her interest will last

Fulfilled and content - her need satisfied,
she got her reward, took claim of her prize

she goes back to her roots, a mother once more
but when day turns to night, she’ll be back to explore

she knows who she is, that’s nobody’s fool
so cool to be hot and hot to be cool

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Submission Guidelines: Poems of no more than 30 lines in length each will be considered.