Tag: #Poetry

I’m at War with Myself

and i am not alone…

 

i see friends and strangers purge their deepest sorrow on line

i see a world where we strive to be perfect

but have no energy or motivation

i read through endless contradicting articles

and find inspiration for mere moments

 

i am told i am imperfect

i am told i am inferior – that i need to be something other then me

i am expected to carry this self loathing in my soul

and be grateful that ‘they’ point out my flaws

 

no one sees my talents my skills my passion

these are hidden with shame

hidden from sight

 

inferior – we always fight comparison

as we fight to be something we are not

 

pretenders on our own thrones

 

 

Anne Harrison 26.06.17

Midsummer Awakenings

 

night sky – barley lit by a thin crescent moon

ink black and alive with sound

a deep darkness hugged the ground under the thick canopy of full summer trees

mist lingered brushing the tips of tall rich grasses

 

grasses swayed – mist swirled

disturbed by the lone woman – clad in tattered layers

this was her time – night time – moon time – dark

the mist hung to her form as she appeared to float from the trees into the clearing

the boy laid near the centre – yet he was not there

 

his journey was in the inner realm

he would struggle

he would cry

he fought

she watched over his journey – a silent guardian

this was something he needed to face alone

 

a strangled sob escaped his form

sparks – dancing fae drew close

imps curious – drawn by the raw magic

they surrounded the boy – dancing on moon beams

the hag – noticing the father – ushered him away – sent him back to the shadows

 

somewhere a wolf howled – calling to his mate

as the thin moon circled low atop the tree line

night relinquished its hold upon the forest – a pink light grew in the sky

it was time for travellers to return from the inner realm

 

the boy stirred

the hag knelt by his side

offered him water – laced with herbs

he shook – he trembled – he cried

hung his head and wept – the painful truth laid naked

 

he killed the guardian did he not

my own father

the father of the guardian

as the sun rose early upon that midsummer morn

it lit the path before the boy

the guardian reborn

 

 

Anne Harrison 21.06.17

 

 

 

Questioning my Confidence 

I am feeling lost a little unfocused. 

I see all that accumulates upon my ever growing to-do list 📃 and bury my head.  

I know exactly what I want to do in order to do what I want to do 

But I’m frozen from action 

I sit… Lost… 

I bury myself in chores 

I invent excuses 

I know I can do this,  so why can’t I start?  

I’m frustrated,  sat in class I’ve not studied. It’s always one day,  next day, next week,  month… Year… Never… 

How can I let myself down? How can I discard my dreams?  Lost in an endless circle of scrolling,  getting annoyed at myself for being frozen. 

The inability to start is clouded by a fog of insecurity.  

And I end up questioning my Confidence 
Anne Harrison 30.05.17

i invisible

i am a face in the crowd
lost in an audience
one among many

watching
admiring
inspired

name with no name
no one you would know
no one

i brought a ticket
took my seat
i was there

drinking in inspiration
in love with the world
forgetting last buses

i am the people who create audience
i am those lost for words
i am the one who cries

my tears
emotion
beauty
love

i thank you

Anne Harrison 11.02.17

The Morning Nomad

 

sat at the back of the bus folded into the cramped space he sat
a mop of thick curly hair brushed the low ceiling
piercing blue eyes regarded the commuters over sharp eagle nose

shaved yet unshaved clean jacket yet dirty boots
a solitary man on a morning sojourn
battered rucksack bulging held together with knots
worn holes date well used companions bag and boots

at home at any location worldwide
his journey unknown to me

our paths parted at the traffic lights
he upon his
mine
the same

 

 

Anne Harrison 23.11.16

Destroying Negative Thoughts

*true story*

 

i burned my journal at the weekend
it was pretty and pink and crammed full of negativity
i tore pages free from the spine
with thoughts in my mind - words cant define

i burned my journal and destroyed my thoughts
self hatred and insecurity plagued the pages
false promises and longing - that were not mine
the constant illusion of perfection

i burned my journal to free my mind
a mind taunted by media images
a mind obsessed with being slim
a mind overthinking

i burned my journal at the weekend
it was pretty and pink and horded black words
i had become a slave to the system
i saw only flaws - i manifested my own hate

i burned my journal and gave hate to the flames
pages curling and blacking
words set free to the fire
that night i actually slept

 

Anne Harrison 17.10.16