Poetry and Creative Writing for All

Samantha King

I've just turned 16 and I started writing two years ago.  For me, poetry is an experience where I can unwind and let my emotions rule over me.  I was first published in a Forward Press anthology called 'Memories Are Made Of This' in November 2007. I started writing poetry first of all because I needed an outlet to my frustration and despair. I'm glad to say it worked and eventually I began writing much lighter poetry.  I tend to stick to environmental and romance.

For me this is a chance to develop my skills and hopefully, I'll gradually enhance my skills.  Most of my poetry is also inspired by music; I perform with bands in West Lothian. Without music and the influence of someone close to me, I'm sorry to say I never would have written poetry in the first place.

Like a Candle

Like a candle burning freely in the wind,
So wild was your spirit, and for that I honor you.
You were a daring soul, so strong, and passionate,
Yet quiet, and respecting, like we all should be.

A admired your grace and the tender words you spoke,
Like any woman, gentle, caring, honest.
But you had this edge of flare, and power,
Keeping you as powerful as you always was.

Everything from the silver hair on your head,
To your beautiful, soulful eyes, were remarkable.
It was you who inspired theses words to come,
To escape my mouth and settle on this sheet.

If you had never been there, I doubt to think that,
Without your encouragement, that I would have ever written.
So, I would like to say, thank you, and may you be blessed,
I hope you are happy, and watching over us now, from the sky.

I have no regrets in meeting you, being with you, spending time with you,
Every moment was a perfect one, full of radiance and contentment.
In letting you go, my heart may weep, but I will not despair,
As I know we can meet again, and I can see your gentle smile once more.

Not a day goes by where my eyes do not cry for your memory,
And many seconds of my days are filled with your laughter.
Wait for us, and make sure our families are safe,
May your forever merry spirit rest in joyful peace, Beatrice.

Angels

"Fly away.
Please, take me with you.

I want to find it-

Find the haven that stole you.

The place where you now lie."

Listen closely.

I can hear your heartbeat-

Ever fading.

Is it dying?

I can see them.

I can see the angels-

Ever singing.

Is it for you?

Musical laughter.

Mocking, guiding.

Like an innocent babe-

Too young, too pure?

"Don't leave me.

Carry me away in your arms..."

Rosalie

A small flicker escapes those crystal blue orbs,
Then I find myself lost in incomparable beauty.
I see golden honey trickling down a pale, pink face,
Touched with sprinkles of endearing freckles.

Luscious lips coated in sweet strawberries,
The slightest pucker tempting all those near.
Smooth, soft flesh surrounding a dainty nose,
Twitching under adoring scrutiny.

To compare you to a rose,
That would be high treason,
As nothing so serene and breathtaking
Could bear even the bluntest thorn.

Dare I comment on those sapphire orbs?
In doing so I would deserve punishment,
No gem or painting could reflect more purity and peace
Than the windows to your soul.

To look at you is to look at the sun,
To be without your warmth I would despair in shadows of regret.
Yet if I look too long at those forbidden features,
I shall be blinded by an amnesty of passion.

I would ask that you bless me,
A single glance from those sacred eyes.
Yet if this is the price for one treasured glance,
Then I will gladly submit to my heavenly fate.

Even still, every fortunate man, beast or God,
Would give their very spirits, their every breath,
If it allowed them a mere second
To touch your fair, creamy skin.

Natures Majesty

Expect not the angry snapping of jaws,
Nor the vicious growl of a hunter,
But see a gentle protector,
The lone, prodigious wolf.

He bears no hatred for his predator;
Instead, he ensnares their spirit,
A beautiful dance of emotions,
Yet none seen with the lithe body.

The wolf stands a vigil guard,
Cold winds rippling soft, silken fur,
But he never wavers once,
Determined to defend alone.

Man and beast stare eye to eye,
Each of them not equals, as warriors.
With a slither of movement,
The wolf jumps forward gracefully.

Fear attacks him, and the human flinches;
But the shred of fangs do not come.
Instead he is met with a brush of silk,
And then the air is silent.

The hunter sways in his resolve;
He becomes unsure, and doubtful.
Worry worms its way deep into his heart,
Followed by the peace of humble respect.

The wolf is not a beast,
He is a protector of hope.
The man turns away into the snow,
Leaving the small pack in gratitude.

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

Post your poems to Featured Poets, Forward Press Ltd, Remus House, Coltsfoot Drive, Peterborough PE2 9JX (Write your name and address on each piece of work you send)

Or email your poems to inbox@forwardpress.co.uk (Enter Featured Poets in the subject line, including your name and postal address)