Poetry and Creative Writing for All

Dominic Davies

Dominic is twenty years old, currently studying English Language and Literature at the University of Liverpool, where he has, after studying the great poets such as Wordsworth, Shelley, Coleridge, Milton, Johnson and Swift to name a few, been inspired to undertake some writing of his own. His poetic career is only really just commencing, but he writes for pleasure and hopes to further maturity and style as he develops as a poet. Even after studying so much great literature he feels he still has only scratched the surface, and intends to continue reading at Liverpool as a postgraduate. He is sure that as his studies further he will gain a fuller and extensively comprehensive grasp of poetry that can only improve his own writing.

Emotional Seasons

Warmth of daylight radiates through the sky,
Beams that ricochet between greens, vibrant and bold.
Life and happiness are in abundant supply
Filled with youth that never grows old.
Clouds appear comforting, casting a shade;
Not a darkness foreboding but one of release
From a constant energy source, a healing aid
Months of pleasure soaked in satisfaction and peace.

Clouds grow sombre, the daylight weakens,
Grass once so profuse withers and tires.
Red of youth and warmth seems a distant beacon
Reflected in leaves that billow down in gyres.
The refreshing breeze adopts a searing edge
Penetrating the life that was once so bountiful.
Only dark emerald remains bound to the hedge
Umber enticing the atmosphere into days only dull.

Daylight seems scarce, darkness suppresses,
Despair is a trait seemingly protracted.
Health is threatened by thriving diseases,
Creatures withdraw to supplies previously accumulated.
Trees stripped bare to their very roots
By a cleansing that daunts and provokes fear.
Death follows life in a relentless pursuit
Finally catching and slaughtering the year.

But through this bleak and desperate condition
Protrudes a determined, welcomed, glint of hope.
Life at last adopts a positive reaction,
Absorbing those fears with a restored sense of scope.
Ambitions grow with the length of the days,
Aspirations appear, erupting blaze in dark.
Prosperous environments force bad memories away
And blossom returns the yearned for spark.

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Thoughts Upon Inexplicable Despair

Friends of mine, content with life, still have beliefs.
Political opinion, a natural desire to rebel,
Not to conform to society, structured mischief
To be something exciting and original,
Someone different, who’s worth remembering.
Youth gives them happiness by simply doing
What pleases them, induces happiness
Drinking, smoking, drugs, sex, indulgence
In pleasures that life offers. To deny authority,
Become an apathetic renegade, gives a sense
Of satisfaction, individuality, yet another pleasure
In a life of pretence.
I do not criticise them for this lifestyle
And endeavour to indulge in my share of denial
But it is not society or controversial reforms
To which I struggle to conform,
It is this life! This physicality that clings
To my bones! Why am I me, here and now?
Why do my emotions persecute me so,
Tirelessly so that I am interminably fatigued?
Terrible events occur worldwide, be they
Natural, artificial, large-scale or personal,
An abundance of pain dominates the world.
Others indulge in those few pleasures
That provide adequate distraction from this,
A population that simply perseveres
Through difficulties. Such acceptance!
And I refuse to obey, to bow down
To the anxiety and emotion that bubbles,
Blisters violently in the crater of my stomach,
I refuse to embrace its aggressive attack.
And yet I do.
I vent my anger, ignore the vexatious wrath,
The inexplicable dissatisfaction of this empty life.
Lose myself in the global terror, consider the luck
With which I am born. A safe situation.
I’ll create, express the overwhelming grief in art.
Shun the galling of incomprehensible fury
By trying, like those around me,
To immerse myself in deep distractions
Persevere through sadistic reactions.
Any realistic finality seems tauntingly distant
But terrifyingly near. Though I need a release,
An escape from torturous, compulsive habits
I still fear death!
I can solve the problem myself! Why
Do I not satisfy this searing appetite?
I know why.
My human brain, fused with its survival instinct,
Combines with hope, a fleeting glimpse
Of the happiness to be had through love.
A nectar so precious that my family restrict me
To the confines of life inflicted upon me.
If I could inject the medicine of relief
Companionship brings, directly into my veins,
This relentless struggle would seem a dream.
Only a flickering anticipation of my next hit
Keeps me here, forces me to tolerate pain.
I drift on in ambiguity, desolately alone,
Occupied by an eternal spiral of condemnation,
Floating upon an unforgiving tumultuous ocean
Where I shall inevitably wait until the choice
Of death is taken from my hands.
How I cannot wait for that day.
But how I dread it also!

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Red, Salty Cheeks’

The death of a loved one is not what gets
My tears fast flowing, red, salty cheeks.
Instead the feelings turn inwards upon me,
Twisting my stomach in a state of anxiety.
Emptiness so gaping the heart becomes stressed,
Lost in the vacuum, a black hole in my chest.
Cold shivers of emotion prickle my skin,
Quivers scaling my spine, round my neck to my chin
Where they settle and grip with one gelid pinch.
Mind lost in memories and thoughts, I flinch,
Distant from reality, preoccupied with grief,
Desperate for release, distraught for relief.
But seeing a loved one fracture into tears,
Mourning a death, culminates all my fears.
Someone I’ve known to be rigid and strong
Betraying traits of weakness that do not belong
Crushes control, forces me to express
Physical emotions that I cannot suppress.
The knowledge that every person is weak
Results in the staining of red, salty cheeks.

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So That We Might Meander Comfortably Through Life’

Realisation will dawn on many innocent fellows,
As the sun shocks the night sky and the stars flee,
That the expectations of life and humanity
Are not actually as promising or special as they seem.

In this modern, scientific age, and as yet more is explored
Religion has lost the power it once had to comfort.
Heaven becomes a distant and unfamiliar reward;
We want that life now with the immediacy of our world.

There is comfort in physical pleasures; drugs and alcohol.
But long-term exposure proves deleterious.
Both physical and psychological pressures
And those from society, force us to abandon this.

Love is perhaps a prospective route to happiness
If a compatibility can be found to flourish
And a tolerance can develop without extensive effort.
But there is always divorce and fear for the loss of others.

The dawning of this realisation may push some away,
Immersing themselves in jobs that envelop their mind.
Occupation appears a successful plan to many,
Giving us no time to contemplate the emptiness of life.

A developed aspect of love is to help others selflessly;
It provides the warmth of morality and virtue,
An alternative path that also draws upon occupation.
But to only help others depends on others helping you.

Creation is an attractive direction for many.
To empty oneself of the creative drive that fills one
Proves both therapeutic and particularly satisfactory,
But rarely contributes enough wealth to survive on.

Filling this hole that this realisation provokes
Requires a balance of opinions within each option
Concluding in both a viable and realistic life path.
Negotiating this balance fills me with apprehension!

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Sunset On the Beach

Meandering along sand
Uneven, shells cracking
As steps stumble forward.
To my right, the strand,
Left, engulfing expanse
Reflecting the tonal sky
From which the sun steals,
Behind the horizon.

And I consider, ‘Why?’
Questions repeatedly asked,
Impossible to contemplate.
Life holds nothing special,
An anti-climax, masked
By previous innocence.
Can I persevere onwards?
Or surrender to disappointment.

Except in this moment
Not nothing, but everything
Seems to reproduce significance.
That this intricate consciousness
Exists, alone, is special.
I can take solace in this
Cling to emphatic joy and bliss
Generated by the sunset before me.

Hope grips my heart
Occupies me, distracts
Without superficiality,
To share this beauty
Created naturally.
Meaning reappears
Into a life dedicated to
Exploration of purpose.

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