The Battle of the Plain of Glass

I stand there,
Waiting,
In the bitter cold,
Ready to do battle,
On a field of glass.

The general comes,
The battle commences,
But his tactics are awry,
They hinder our progress,
We become penned back.

We cannot get out,
We are trapped,
Surrounded by the enemy,
Any attempt at forward movement,
Only damages our chances further.

The ball falls at my feet,
The enemy closes in,
I do the only I can do,
I hit it as hard as I can,
It sails behind enemy lines.

I caught it sweetly,
It bends and swerves in the wind,
Before landing in the opposition goal,
Yet the general shouts angrily,
What are you doing?!

I raise my hand in triumph,
The hand that had been bloodied by battle,
But the general refuses to acknowledge my feat,
Saying, instead, that I had broken his rules,
To which my reply is, do you wish us to lose?

He gives me a look of sheer loathing,
I return it with a smirk,
For I know I am right,
If we listen to the general we lose,
If we ignore him, we win.

It's that simple.

The Bohemian

People think you are odd,
Just because you are different,
But in your mind,
They are odd,
Because they are different.

You wander around aimlessly,
Deep in thought,
Wondering about things,
That mean something to you,
But mean nothing to others.

You are an artist,
And a poet,
Who travels all around,
In search of inspiration,
So you can create a masterpiece.

You write songs on trains,
Or on park benches,
You sketch pictures in school,
Or in your friends house,
Wherever the inspiration comes to you.

You are a total recluse,
You talk to nobody,
No one knows who you are,
Not that you want them to,
You prefer your own company.

Storm, Shadows...and a Little Something Special

I am lying in my bed,
Listening to the sounds,
That the night makes,
As the world spins around.

A storm is raging,
Rain splatters the windows,
The wind is howling,
Suddenly, I see shadows.

They jump out at me,
I begin to feel afraid,
I pull the bed sheets over me,
Believing no one will come to my aid.

It is then I think of you,
Of your beautiful, fresh face,
Your dazzling, bright smile,
Your majestic poise and grace.

Then the storm begins to calm,
The shadows begin to lift,
All because of you,
With your magical gift.

You are the special one,
In you, no faults I can detect,
You are the one I love,
You are just perfect.

Jinky

You could twist and turn,
You had speed to burn,
Your name was Jinky.

Sometimes you would fly,
High into the sky,
Because of your dazzling trickery.

You left Terry Cooper,
Stuck in a stupor,
It was typical Jinky.

Red Star Belgrade,
Were completely dazed,
By the quick feet of Jinky.

You were part of the Lions,
Who in defiance,
Defeated Milan in Lisbon.

For the cause, you took many a belt,
That's why you're our greatest ever Celt!
Oh, how we love our Jinky.

Now you are dead and gone,
Yet you will always live on,
Because we will never forget our Jinky!

Permanent Anger

People don’t understand me,
They constantly ask why I am so competitive,
It’s just the way I am, is my reply,
However, saying this is ignorant,
As I don’t really understand why myself.

I don’t know why I get so angry,
Or so annoyed at the simplest of things,
It is really quite stupid,
As it has led to me doing foolish things,
Things that have hurt people I know.

Yet still I don’t see sense.

When I am in this angry state,
I turn into this ogre,
This primitive beast,
Who won’t see reason with anyone,
Not until it’s too late.

One day I will hurt someone close to me,
Maybe then my lesson will be learned,
But I hope it won’t come to that,
As my life would then be over,
With my friends abandoning me...

Stuck in a state of permanent anger.

Hope is Lost

I have now lost all hope,
Why, I do not know,
I have suddenly been overcome a feeling,
A feeling that says,
I shall never have you.

A friend who is close to you,
Tells me I might have a chance,
Another friend you do not know,
Tells me impossible is nothing.
Jesters the pair of them!

Gut instinct has never been my strong point,
But right now it is saying,
I am too immature and weak,
To be worthy of your heart,
Unfortunately, I would have to agree.

My eyes are filled with tears,
My heart feels like it has been smashed to pieces,
Obviously, you didn't mean it,
You aren't even aware you have done it,
But one realisation has come with another.

Now I know I can never have you,
I also know I shall never love another,
They say it's better to have loved and lost
Then to have never loved at all,
But it would have been nice had you been mine to lose...

Because I would have made sure I didn't!

(Gav White would put music to a version of this poem which we sang just once - he did most of the singing, to be fair - as a duo heroically called Orwellian Fear; we could have set the world ablaze)

I am

Life will beat you to your knees
If you allow it too,
That's why it's not about how hard you can hit -
It's about how hard you can get hit
And bounce back every time,
Unfazed and unharmed.
It's about being able to stand toe-to-toe
With anyone who thinks they are bigger than you
And being able to say proudly,
With your chest puffed out,
"I am!"

Isolation

It is a strange feeling,
One I have never felt before,
Around people I consider friends,
I feel suddenly all alone.

I have never noticed this feeling,
Not until now,
It is almost as if,
I don't know who they are.

I bear no grudges with them,
In fact we get on well,
Yet I feel odd around them,
As if I do not belong.

Maybe this feeling is in my mind,
Or it is a problem that is only temporary,
I just hope it goes away soon,
I miss being able to enjoy my friends company.

Yet it seems to be growing,
This terrible feeling of isolation,
It seems that they are my friends no more,
And their friendship was just a figment of my imagination.

Heartbreak

As I see you walking down the road,
My heart begins to rejoice,
You make me feel strange inside,
In my mind, I hear this wonderful voice.

Yet, I see some stranger with you,
You are walking arm-in-arm,
I hope it is not what it looks like,
But the voice disappears amongst sounds of alarm.

You look into each others eyes,
In what is clearly a loving gaze,
You notice me not as you walk by me,
This sight is causing me heartbreak.

I knew that this moment would come,
Yet, it still comes as a complete suprise,
Afterall, what would you see in a boy like me,
Who can barely cross his t's and dot his i's.

I am not foolish enough to suggest that I don't care,
But it is true that I do not begrudge you your happiness,
You are the love of my life and if this is what you want,
Then it is what I want, even if it means you cannot be my sweetness.

Friends?

Anger, hatred, annoyance, resentment, exasperation, outrage, fury, displeasure, loathing, detestation, animosity, enmity, irritation, vexation.

Why do friends sometimes make us feel these things?
Are they not there to be trusted?
Or are they there just to annoy us?
To make us feel angry and exasperated,
Surely they are there to support us?
Not to make snide comments behind your back,
Or to make fun of you,
Just to be popular,
Just to be part of the crowd.

Why do friends sometimes backstab each other?
What is achieved by this?
Nothing at all,
Common sense tells us that friends should be helpful,
And supportive in times of trouble,
Yet to me it seems the opposite,
They seem to make things worse,
Stating the obvious,
Making themselves sound clever,
Since they are not in the same trouble as me.

Are all friends this way?
If someone has the answer please tell me.

(I asked a man called John Silkstone on Bebo to review some of my early poetry and he said this poem was one worthy of publication in his magazine - it was only the tenth poem I'd ever written).

Dreams & Chances (With a Tinge of Relief)

Finally,
You notice me at last!
Even though it's not face to face,
It makes my heart swell with joy!
I get this strange feeling in my stomach,
Butterflies,
Just reading the message you left,
Even though it's only a hello,
It's enough to make me punch the air in delight,
Enough to make me wonder,

What if?

I try not to get too excited,
But the joy inside me has reached a crescendo,
As I read the message again,
I see a lone x at the end of it.
That one x means more to me,
Then all the others I have ever received put together,
For it tells me that,
Maybe, maybe,
I have a chance,
Yet still I must ask,

Is it possible?
Only in your dreams, is a reply.
Well I say,
It's nice to dream.

Charlie's Last Day

Charlie woke up very depressed,
He couldn't be bothered to get dressed,
He wants to stay in bed until the end of time,
Alas! He had to be up before the clock struck nine.

The love of his life has messed him around,
He loves her still, her voice is like a cloud,
Her looks could kill, her gaze is warm,
He loves her still, even though she was wrong.

He had to be up, he had to work,
He didn't want to go, she was the clerk,
They work all day in the same place,
But he dares not look at her beautiful face.

She cheated on Charlie with his friend,
A person who used to help pay the rent,
Charlie had known him all his life,
But between them now, there was nothing but strife.

Charlie woke up very depressed,
But now he has found eternal rest,
He is bothered no more by the love of his life,
And all it took was the stroke of a knife.

Alone

I am a nervous wreck,
I really do not want to do this alone,
I turn to my friends for help,
They all say they can't,
You must do this on your own,
Everywhere I turn,
They say the same thing,
On your own,
All alone.

I have now come to realise,
That my friends do not wish me harm,
They do not want to laugh at me,
They just want me to grow up,
And I know they are right,
The time has come for me,
To step out into the real world,
On my own,
All alone.

Emerald

When I saw you that very first time,
I was speechless, my mind went blank,
Your eyes were as clear as day,
And your hair shone so bright,
It was like an emerald.

When you would pass me by in the corridors,
I would turn and follow, only to realise,
I should've gone the other way!
I would end up late,
Still blinded by my emerald.

I would think of nothing else all day,
Except when I would see you again,
And when I would hear your beautiful laugh,
And see your dazzling smile,
Shining like an emerald.

The best times of my life were with you,
Talking to you,
Your warm breath pushing against my face,
Then I lean in,
To kiss my emerald.

But before I touch those tender lips,
I awake from my dream,
To a horrible realisation,
You're not mine, you never will be,
You're a rarity...

Just like an emerald.

(when I first started posting poems on Bebo, this was the one my friends seemed to like so it's of great sentimental value - written around late 2006/early 2007).

My Everything

This is for you,
Who I have known for years,
You're the one I love,
The one who I need.

You went away,
To my despair,
Far away,
I'd wish you were here.

But now you are back,
To my hearts content,
But you notice me not,
To you I am but a friend.

One day you'll mine,
And we will be happy,
And we shall dance,
While the music is playing.

I am not skilled,
In any craft or trade,
But if I was,
You would be my subject.

For if I was a painter, I'd paint your picture,
If I was a sculptor, I 'd sculpt your figure,
If I was a writer, I'd write your story,
If I was a musician, I'd play your song...

But if I was a perfectionist,
I wouldn't change a thing,
Because you are the one,
My everything.

My First Celtic Game

It was a sight to behold that faithful day,
Despite the fact the sky was a drizzly grey,
60,000 Celtic fans packed into Parkhead,
They made so much noise they could've woke the dead.

I was one of those Celtic fans that day,
Lucky enough to see Cetic win by a long way,
The result was put beyond doubt,
When Larsson scored a hat-trick with his tongue hanging out.

Sutton scored, as did Petrov,
It ended 5-1, Dundee Utd were dreadful,
I went home with a smile on my face,
But I was also sad to be leaving that wonderful place.

Now I really miss Parkhead,
With it's fans that would pump green if they bled,
I try to watch as many games as I can,
But it's never the same as being there as a diehard fan!

(first poem I ever wrote, written sometime in late 2006 - looks like a ten year old wrote it, though)