#ProjectInspiredPoetry

Poems based around or inspired by all of my Facebook friends. Before 31 December 2013, there will be a poem for every Facebook friend of mine.

The Photographer’s Portrait

He snapped away at beautiful things –
He was one of the best;
Able to capture momentary bliss.
His life in stills would be momentous;
Memories and moments of making smiles.
It’s easy to capture the outside;
It’s a gift to capture the inside.
But he did it – every time,
Maybe it was in his finger…

But as he snapped he got older,
Until one day his arthritis finger hurt to push.
That’s the day he had his portrait painted.
I painted it.
You should have seen his smile;
It radiated.
It made me smile.

That’s rare.

Now it hangs above his rocking chair
Next to the fire place.
His smile is eternal now:
To match his photographs.

Young Poet

Young poet with the blonde hair!
She had this interesting affair…
He got really angry at her ways,
she didn’t care – so she says.

She cheated on him with her art
because her art would never cheat her.
It gave her more joy to hold a brush of thought
and a palette filled with colourful thoughts,
unlike his monochromatic personality.
She can paint her fantasy with words
and not be abused by him.

Young poet with the blonde hair!
Everyone walks past just to stare…
She’s so happy now with her life,
it’s all gone now: the hate, the strife!

King

You don’t need a crown
to rule over people’s minds.
You don’t need a thrown
to have the respect of others.
All you need is:
voice
brain
cause
image

Look at him!
He beats his chest with his ways,
not his hands.
They all listen – and stare.
They follow because he had a voice.
He made them believe they needed a cause.
He was the cause.
You see – he has a brain.
His image was power because
from the beginning he was King.
No need to say you’re king
if you believe you’re king.
People follow if you believe.
Now he rules them;
quite simple really.

Don’t call me that

Did I give you permission?
I don’t believe I did…
They tormented me with that name;
The damage is done.
And my name is ruined…
It only holds the pain
That bursts at the sound of my name!
Do you know how much it hurts,
Hurts for your own name
To be your biggest tormentor?

So wait until you call me that,
Wait for eternity!
The scars will always be there;
The pain never goes away;
This is what it feels like to be dirt,
Dirt that they threw in my face.

Don’t call me that
Don’t call me that
Don’t call me that

DON’T!

Something not everything

Stand for something…
Not everything.
Don’t be a Jack-of-all-trades
spread too thin, too wide –
for what?
Everything else suffers…
Dig a hole – go deep in few things;
be a genius in a field
rather than a cleaner in all.

A friend to all is a friend to none.
Be bold.
Stop chasing everyone’s shadow.
Be the light.