It is cold
Creeps through your soul like steel claws
They clutch your heart
Your tummy
Your gut
Frozen
Your hands start to curl
Stiff fingers clenched
You can’t breathe
Or breathe too quickly
Hold your breath
Frozen
A white wash from head to toe
Heart racing
Mind racing
Thoughts racing
But you’re still
Frozen
You’re detached from reality
The mundane becomes surreal
Focus foggy exhausting
Feel sick
Can’t eat
Frozen
*
It’s all in your head
Snap out of it
You need to be more positive
Look on the bright side
You don’t look ill
*
But I’m in bed at 8:30pm writing shitty poetry
Because a phone call is too difficult
So i seek peace in sleep
Using words to touch kindred spirits
Until dreams take me away
When Bruenor Battlehammer created Aegis-fang for his adopted son Wulfgar
The incredible warhammer was said to have been the Dwarven King’s pinnacle of creation. If memory serves me correctly, he didn’t return to the anvil for a considerable time after the forging of the infamous hammer…
However, it has been a long time since I last read the books and it’s also a completely vague reference for anyone beyond an olde fashioned D&D gamer…
Although I had to split up my work into bite sized blog posts, I have presented for you my Aegis-fang… I have never been able to surpass the quality of work that I put together for my Poetry assignment, this was the point where it all fell together, where I was able to encompass all my passion and inspiration into 30+ pages and it paid off… It earnt me a distinction at university!
It’s taken me a while to build up the confidence to share this work with you, I’m so proud, yet so shy, almost ashamed of my pride, for it is misplaced when compared to those who actually inspired me initially. I have so much admiration for others, I feel insignificant, a candle flame against a spotlight.
This is my pride and joy, I love each word that embroidered together created something beautiful and now I feel as though I have laid my soul bare, naked in the face of criticism.
Yet it has given my blog a nice turn of events, I still have my lingering tale to work on, for my characters keep haunting by dreams… insistent that I do not forget them, that I continue to give them life, through words…
It’s been a pleasure to focus on something more than my own cathartic personal posts.
For I suspect these don’t really make for stimulating reading, they are precious to me.
It’s also given me the chance to slip in a little bit of my photography… For how better to dress my own words than with my own pictures…
Sadly, I appear to have lost the feedback sheet with the tutors comments, for i would have liked to have shared those words too… So instead, I shall sit back and allow you to enjoy my work in its fragmented presentation, invite you to form your own views and hopefully enjoy some my insane scribblings…
I am part of a lost generation.
And I refuse to believe that
I can change the world.
I realize this may be a shock, but
“Happiness comes from within”
Is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy”
So in thirty years, I will tell my children
They are not the most important thing in my life.
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
Work
Is more important than
Family
I tell you this:
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
But this will not be true in my era.
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
Thirty years from now, I will be celebrating the tenth anniversary of my divorce.
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making.
In the future,
Environmental destruction will be the norm.
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this Earth.
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic.
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.
And all of this will come true unless we reverse it.
Reference – 21
Reference – 26
“
I don’t want you to be my well constructed paragraph I rather you be my run on sentence
This love isn’t a synopsis thesis or dissertation it’s a creative writing project that comes together flawed magical and full of errors but we are still learning
I don’t need punctuation marks getting in between what we have
What we pour into one another should be fluid not frozen by societal expectations
Let’s avoid periods or colons comas or ellipses in OUR love work
I’m even OK with us being grammatically incorrect unconventional and in love the way we want to be in love
I will never use my red pen on your heart or tongue to disregard or dismantle how you feel or speak and I am perfectly OK with your mistakes
My dedication to ‘Rhythm 0’ – Alas the jpeg failed to capture the pay layout from the original PDF, so I’ve worked a little technical magic. Although the presentation is rather different from intended, the words here are clearer for your pleasure.
FE in Creative Writing, Poetry Assignment at Leicester University
As ‘Crossing Paths’ is made up of two poems spliced together and rearranged to create a visual image with words. The concept requiring the reader to rotate the paper, to mentally follow the paths of the two poems that have relating themes. Indicating that there is balance in nature and words alike… The two (untitled) pieces are as follows:
***
5am wake up calls tip-tapping along the hull
precision dog-fight pilots with
a cascade of noise excited chatter
squabbling feathers fly
i turn to see your black glass eye hungry
you come so close yet still so cautious
you talk to me you watch me
yet you still won’t trust me
our royal highness you do not ignore
giant feet slapping churning frothing
water he reaches his full long length
tip-tapping upon glass round
the watchful mother guarding
black cotton wool balls of life
shrill cheeping calling cries
alert learning flight
once i saw a flash so bright so swift
brilliant orange electric blue a purr
hovering wings flutter zap gone
a split second of breathless awe
***
i arrived in the heart of winter amidst falling snow
trapped in the mud my arrival scarred the earth
my whole life wrapped up in boxes
i was alone
frozen water immense sheets of ice fizzled and cracked
sat at the back of the bus i can escape reality for ten minutes while those around me stare at their tiny screen ears plugged with music flicking through pages of daily crap i fly on dragonflies the size of horses over lilac seas melting into a glittery horizon of low hanging golden moons circling in a turquoise neon sky watching glibberly serks gallop through still waves in schools of elegant dance young dibberboks chase them as i reach down allowing my fingers to trace swirls through the honey sea weaving my steed through airships and balloons flown by cunning fox sky bandits from far off hills in shimmering shadows of kirktop heights laughing enjoying the freedom of my flight i notice a lone hibblelip moon bathing upon a smooth floating sox i wave in glee as she tips her top hat at me the driver slams on his breaks im jerked back to the muttering of grannies complaining wondering why people always need to state the obvious out my window i pass shops of brightly coloured sarees elegant and translucent smooth silks such as the king of undermountain would adorn his royal chamber his guards know me in their realm and im welcomed in my daydream land to a feast of foreign foods dainty desserts of fabulous colours my guardian lives here amongst the fandolots his armour rusty his smile warm i feed my steed slithering gibs to his delight and sloppy kisses we dance to alien music to no tune with freedom and joy the samsots the dames the lillypad slips the giants skip and jive to the dolly pipes in a circle dance that wraps between realms reminding few men they share these worlds with the marvellous unknown limitation of the mind and forgotten realms inside….
last stop
that fight to get off
rushing crowds going their own way
ignorant in sleepy gloom
another day starts the
same
Anne Harrison 29.06.17
Re-Posted as the ‘Newspaper’ version looses its detail when converted into a JPEG
Tatterhood 