Those Times So Young

Those times so young,
Those many times so fair.
Times for it all,
Times of it all.

Full of hope and future.
With it all,
Just waiting.
For those times.


Very short poem, writing this retrospectively, I wrote the poem drunk and with only a little amount of time. Really wanted to capture the feeling but did a poor job. At least I remember it

Nightmare

Nightmare,
A dark place of shock,
Remnents from past,
Yet also the unreal.
The mind running, on edge.

Terrible things from the past.
Hurt and pain,
From a mere illusion.
Yet also a reality gone by

The nightmare,
Full of emotion,
The dark night terrors,
Memory of the darkness,
The nightmare,
The past.

A culmination,
But also.

Real, for a time.
Inflated by the mind.

Making this.
This was.
My nightmare.


Been meaning to write this since I’ve woken up, last night I had a nightmare, it was about manipulation. Hardly surprised it started to sink into my sleep.

This is a poem based off the nightmare, or me reflecting on it. I’ve been totally happy today after the nightmare, got my essays submitted, talking to friends, meeting one tomorrow, hearing from one I haven’t in a long time who’s graduating today, someone I really want to see again!

And now. Going out with my coursemates drinking, celebrating the essays being off our plate before lectures start again.

Little Start

That little start,
Unassuming, kind and sweet.
Thinking,
That little flame,
The spark from afar.

Small,
Beautiful,
The little start,
The moment’s morning,
Blissful night,
Thinking so sweet.
Wondering in amazement.

The little start,
The coming moment,
Making nothing into something.
A small start.

All comencing,
Moments turning.
The fire in my soul burning.
Making a whole through me,
The kindness and warmth.
Simple truths,
Amazing moments in nothing.
Those mere moments,
Being here,
An amazing person by my side.

Wondering, thinking.

The little start.
Everything,
From a little start.


Wanted to write a nice poem to end the day, the day was stressful but got better when hanging out with friends, even if we were all working on our essays. I’m confident with mine. Stress was to do with the past, unsavoury people, random thoughts, overthinking and random occurrences in addition to going mad with my essay I guess.