Is there anyone out there? - NaPoWriMo Poem 11

 

If there is anyone out there

we could really use your help.

 

I don’t mind of you are

a little green being, with a brain

that makes your head tilt

a little to the side,

or if you are a formless vapour cloud,

that telepathically sees

through the despotic lies

that sour our times.

 

We just need help.

Anyone.

 

You could be a Vulcan

giving weird hand signals to everyone,

or a Vogon reading poetry

that would obliterate the minds

of those you deliver it upon.

You could be

a being from Krypton,

your planet long gone,

only to be re-invigorated

by our unique sun.

 

We just need someone.

Anyone…

Well, almost anyone.

 

If you are Darth Vader,

then the job has already gone.

Galactus, yeah maybe

check out a different planet,

orbiting a different sun.

If you are only coming to attack,

screaming ack, ack, ack,

then, no matter how cute you are,

we would rather you turned back.

But if you have a heart or two

Then I really think this planet

needs a doctor

who can fix the mess

we have subjected it to.

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 

'With love, from...' and 

'Poetic Outlaw 2 - Stand & Deliver'

are available along with all of my other books at Amazon

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Poetic-Outlaw-2-Stand-Deliver-ebook/dp/B0G4J2GW47

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle

 

All work copyright - Kyle Coare  

Hug - NaPoWriMo Poem 10

 

I put on a smile sometimes.

I laugh and joke, when inside

I’m choking on tears

I’m too ashamed to cry,

and in all honesty

I’m not okay.

A sea of melancholy

is holding me

under its surface,

smothering me.

 

I need a hug,

some warm company.

Someone to cut through

this mental facade,

the brick wall

I’ve built in place.

To see the real me

and still hold me

close to their heart.

 

I’m struggling,

my mind is at sea

and the rest of me

is on some desert island

under shade of palm trees.

 

I’ve pulled out all of my loose threads,

I’ve discarded of so many frayed edges,

now I’m just the memory of a sweater

dangling on an empty hanger.

But my heart is heavy, 

and I need someone to smile

and say it will get better.

 

I have been outside for so long

that I’ve become a worn paving slab,

that has forgotten how to just belong.

 

The sound of my own voice grates in my head

I want to sit with your voice instead.

For you make me think of sunshine,

you make me see the truth

that I’ve hidden behind the grime.

You give me belief in the me inside

on days when I want to flee and hide.

 

And I need a hug.

Just a hug.

That feeling which says

no matter how bad it feels

soon there will be good.

Empty page - NaPoWriMo Poem 9

 

I've got a head full of ideas

but my page sits empty,

I can't seem to shake any of them free.

Is this writer's block,

or has self-doubt finally crept up?

Is it imposter syndrome looming large?

Like a man in an alley after dark

that you know you don’t want to cross,

so, you take another path

that leads you away, so far.

 

I've got a head full of noise,

but what if that is all it is,

just noise with no sense of rhythm,

where no rhymes are hidden,

no meaning to dig from deep within?

What if it's terrible? What if I fail?

Will I be laughed from the poets table?

Will I become a fable spoken of

long after the final nail hits

the lid of my coffin?

 

I've got some ideas brewing,

like a cup of tea left to stew,

but I've let it sit too long, now

it's bitter and cold, the rhymes

are stale and old, the truth

is not bold it’s just

a moment of self-awareness

masked as a message of hope.

 

So, I let those thoughts drift.

But what if,

what if this is it?

What if my pen sits completely still?

What if I never lift it again?

Will my worth be marked down

as just a poet who lost his muse,

Or will my worth be seen for the love

I’ve given to the world I view?

 

I've got a head full of ideas

but my page sits...

Wait...

What's all this...

I appear to have

written a poem.