I think it’s right that you don’t need to fully understand poetry, as long as it sounds nice and is enjoyable to read, that is it’s main purpose. It’s a good things to bare in mind when writing, too often poems are written too carefully, trying to get a point across but the best poems are ones that don’t say anything really.

It’s slyly cold
with the sun over,
seeing the other side of the world.
Whoever thought the world
was flat, must’ve wondered why the sun
disappeared everday. Perhaps a great-big
eye, that slept when we did, very coincidentally.

To imagine,
is the mind’s freedom. Unfortunately,
we know why, for most things – it’s all
scientific – the sky doesn’t exist, gas and
water floating around. Yet we see animals
and men, even man-made machines. How
did there get up there?
We put them up there
of course we did, anything can be put up there and
if you dare,
you can lose yourself
in a stare.

Has that drunken
misguided man stopped talking
about me yet? His scrumpled up
face pains with confusion and fear. As he
stumbles away behind enduring city
backdrops carrying more wind than
is comfortable, I wonder if he managed to
stumble away from his thoughts.

Even for a little while.

In the Gym

70kg above my head,
well above my centre of gravity anyway,
and nobody seen it.
Can you believe I
don’t care,
because it didn’t need to be seen
and I’ll be sure to tell everyone about it.


As the sun kept on circling
in and out of view,
I wished you were more
see through.
Just couldn’t read you.

I think I
absorbed you
to much.
Was too late
when I realised I
didn’t need to decode you
as such.

So many questions I
asked myself. How
would I sleep with you?
How would I
eat with you?

I needn’t have worried.