Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → saphire's poetry and stuff

Nice!
My first attempt at a sonnet

When the words stop, it is hard to stay sane
No outlet to shout to, no place to cry.
This world is too close, wrapped up in its pain,
a mute voice will sing, and clipped wings will fly.
The crushed will start rising, given their due
and broken bodies matched to broken hearts.
This world will fall, to spring once more anew,
the final we hope, of many false starts.
When potential is shown, never assumed
and people accepted just for their worth
and solved any problem that ever loomed,
when we begin the healing of our earth.
Perhaps peace won't settle, and never will
But war stops when there is no one to kill.

I stay up late because I fear what dreams will bring
The terror and shame of deeds done before linger still
Am I not a good person? Forgiving and kind? Compassionate and thoughtful?
I always thought so, found comfort in aiding those who were lost
But who will save me when I drown in my tears?
Am I not a good person? I hide my anger and pain,
I keep them in jars in my heart.
To see to it they don't escape and hurt others with their wrath.
Am I not a good person, to keep secrets safe?
To share and to give freely, and rarely complain.
I try to try, is that not enough?
To care and to cry for those I cannot reach?
Am I a bad person for having a flaw?
I feel it in the cracking of my soul
I could fix it too, if I truly did try.
But why should I fix it for you, not for me?
Does that make me selfish, or evil or cruel?
Am I too close to see clearly, too far from you to know?
Am I the one at fault? Is it you, or is it me?

The bank has been broken
The flood loose at last
The wall of ignoring
Torn in tattered shards

One person can save
When the right words are said
My thoughts find their way
To the page of the past.

How strange it is to find
You lose wisdom with age
My younger self smarter
And much less afraid.

In the chill night I cower
Scared and alone
As those I though friendly enough
Break down my outer stage.

Why lie and steal away
What permission would freely give?
And twist foolish truths
until unrecognised?

What was not said in confidence
Would now be in light
Had I not kept my tongue in distrust
In the first meeting of tentative friendship

I know better now
My five dearest friends
Are all who hold my heart.
And the rest? Nothing. Never any more.

Self-made am I who learns alone,
to hide thought from face and find joy in the dark.
Diamonds form in pressure, the sun outshines the stars;
bright but hidden in earth, bound in shadows yet still shining in the black.
Lost am I who dances free to live in every space and find a place to leave my mark.
My body-mind-soul my greatest treasure, caged as I am in prison bars,
On shaky limbs I search for worth rarely reassured, but seeking all the same.
Who am I who, ankle-deep in snow, barefoot, caged and free,
bound but flying, bounding, fighting, chasing dream and dreams?
Kill me, crush me, break my soul; I'll keep on standing tall
to stay between the monsters of me and those who are still loved.
If by standing I can save a friend, I swear I'll never fall.

Somebody save me
I'm falling and failing
Help me
I came back and nothings changed
I'm hurting and hiding
full of fury and fear
They still see nothing
How can they still see nothing?
I'm angry at something,or nothing, or all
but I'm too confused and scared to tell
save me
I'm losing to nothing at all

Holding me close to your heart
Even when far out of sight
We lean on each other for ever
to memorise every part
You pull me from pits
help me breath when I am drowning
you chase all my shadows away
never judging, never turning
Even unseen you save me
your arms holding me close
though I'm still on my own
I can't count the times
you unknowingly came to my aid
And I hope one day
I can find the words to tell
that I never miss the times before you.

Inspiration forms in chains
art transpires to make a link
Word to paint to tune to screen
New ideas are formed unseen

Deep in hearts the words are formed
To bring new life in what was lost
Paper, clay, stone and song
Let oldest tales remain most strong

Collect the scraps all left aside
Then stitch till whole and beauty shows
And take the pebble that muddy lay
When set just right takes breath away.

Art combines to make anew
In people, places left to rot
Refreshed by pride as fresh eyes see
Each woven edge of history

So don't destroy what you can't save
If beauty is truly what you seek
For broken things will mend with care
But you can't fix something that isn't there

Two new poems incoming. More political than my usual shtick. BTW, they are made to be read out loud, which is why the meter is a bit odd

The Blood on Our Hands

Did you know that our hands are unclean?
We are complicit with war crimes and actions obscene
The bombing of hospitals, funerals, farms
Paid for by Britain has raised no alarms
We support the bombing of a far off nation
And watch as half of them die of starvation
Yet where is the news saying cholera thrives
Whilst men, women, children fight to survive.
No, we only care when our own people die
Or a journalist butchered pasted over with lies
Where was this outrage when 40 young on a bus
Were slaughtered in Yemen, paid for by us
Our government sells weapons to fill up the banks
Our souls for their pennies, spare change fuels their tanks
So spare a thought for Yemen as the Saudis start the blitz
For the starving civilians; men, women, kids.
Spare a thought for Yemen as Saudi lies with pride
Take a closer look at history: we are on the wrong side.

Helpless and hoping

Reality's lost it's hold on me
The world is too big and too cold for me
Surrounded by danger and pain and by fear
we watch it all happen thinking "I'm powerless here"

We feel helpless and small, so do nothing at all
just watch as the world slowly crumbles and falls
we consume irresponsibly, too poor to change
As big pharma buys up our aches and our pains

It costs us to live and it costs us to die
Pills make us happy when we'd much rather cry
Brainwashed to think we'll succeed if we tried
and never believe we are satisfied

Fads monetise the plight of the poor
"We lived on a pound!" when they own the whole store
we take insult at every remark made in jest
ignoring laws against people truly oppressed

We are more connected that ever before
hungry for content we always want more
our names are soon hidden, so insults abound
every forum forms a battleground

echo-chambers rebound our opinions
reduce us to less than thoughtless minions
no need for proof with 9 thousand behind you
"Well they all agree, so why can't it be true?"

We have grown far too much, far too far, far too fast
time has slipped, we forget the near past
Sexism on all sides still so clear to see
segregation still in living memory

But we forget

We laugh at those who look different or strange,
and don't take the time to remember their names.
They don't matter.
It's all behind the screen, they don't matter.

Then we cry and rage at apes in a cage
and scream out injustice, so many years of pain
as a gorilla protecting a child gets shot
then say nothing at human hurt, quickly forgot.

So you can see my confusion, as magnitudes change
and I hate that I know that I am the same;
forgetting perspective as priorities change.
THERE ARE STILL SMALL CHILDREN STUCK IN A CAGE!

But we forget.

They're just on tv,
they mean nothing to me,
how do I help from across the sea?
I have no power in the "land of the free."

I can't save the climate, I can't make a deal,
I can barely afford a half-decent meal.
Pasta is cheap,
you don't eat if you sleep,
one meal a day keeps me on my feet.

How can I dream to dare touch a world
as I watch this unending chaos unfurl,
Where is the power from the peasants revolt,
when we sought out the ones who were really at fault?

We've been taught that rebellion is no longer our right,
we have been taught that we're no longer allowed to fight.
It isn't civil,
we should only use words,
but what good are they when they can't be heard

If we shout and we scream we are called obscene
Insulted by the monsters behind our screens.
So what do we do when action fails
We need someone strong who can tip the scales
we hope and we wait but we can't wait for long,
we have 12 years left to fix what is wrong.

Do you see why I don't feel reality's sway?
with the world telling me "It's better this way
Just leave it to us, you don't need this power"
As they poison our earth hour upon hour

Do you see why depression, anxiety get high
more people wanting and longing to die
or turning for solace inside of their games
and binge-watching trash tv to try and stay sane?

I have no answers just the desire
to stop someone dropping a match on this pyre
that we all helped to build, don't say it's not true
But we can fix it together; it all starts with you.

Nice poems you've got there.
I would answer in a poem but I don't know how.

@Velicankivrak Thanks. Don't feel like you have to answer in poem form. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

The Mind that Bites

I struggle with nightmares that don't leave when I wake
that quiet voice that taunts every tiny mistake
sweet words of kindness fall on deaf ears
as insults and worries are all I can hear;
"Useless, worthless, pathetic, you slob,
can't even manage to get a good job
why can't you be like your siblings, so smart?
You'll never succeed, just don't even start"
I try not to listen, I know it's not real
but knowing doesn't change the way that it feels
These noiseless, deafening mental attacks
sneak up and whisper when I try to relax.
And every time I think it's been beat
it's never surrender, only retreat.
So just when my life takes a positive turn
my brain comes to bite me; "Do you never learn?
nobody likes you, the only pretend
you're stupid and clumsy, you don't deserve friends
you don't deserve love, or respect, or pain,
you are only a pawn in your own mind games"
But I'll win every day, till the day that I die
Because one single loss means a fatal goodbye.

I really enjoy your work, I've been reading and lurking for a bit and thought it was time to actually let you know how good I think your work is. Thank you for sharing it.

@Boofuss Thanks, that really means a lot to me. I know the early stuff is not great, but I'm really enjoying writing on here, and how supportive the community is.