I didn’t see it until I took a look There was no answer within this book A revolution waiting with a solution Let’s write it down so there’s no confusion!
Spending so long seeking the solution The geniuses all come and go Is the quest for knowledge just an illusion When the answers’ children already know?
The following poems were inspired by the Outcast and Other Words anthology which I came across sometime in 2024. I decided to take all the prompts from that anthology and see what I could come up with myself. 17th Sep 2025 – Shared with dVerse – reflections
We outcasted ourselves by dissemination Of the minutiae of every spit and cough Sharing feeble insights and useless opinion Considering a duck face meme be enough
A tragic victim of fate or led astray by odd notions? Either way, ended up beneath the roiling oceans Or frozen solid on a parade to the mountaintop Life lived in safety has already come to a stop
Sparky Attitude, an ungrateful iconoclast Demolished her own feeble castle keeps An arrogant empire would neither share nor last To a lonely future she limps and creeps
Show me the mould, I wanna break it It’s a lovealution and we’re gonna make it Put me in a box and I’ll find an escape That’s the revolution we’re trying to shape
Just need a little juice to fill up the whole A tiny spark to get some action-shifting A combustion of the heart that you stole To restock the emptiness of your gifting
Waking in the morning was as if nothing had changed Except that everything in life had been rearranged Walking again into the night the patterns are all the same What it was and what it is now has a different name
Taking a thought and pulling it apart Taking a heart and smashing it to pieces A fragment pleases, a misunderstood art An origami part, following the creases
Fighting for breath, caught in the undertow, Unplug from the drama, go with the flow Another story that no one else needs to know An ever-decreasing circle ready to be let go
Title taken from and poem inspired by The Stoa Letter email
Without explanation let’s concoct a story A dry tale to give the past some meaning Wrap an old coat around to comfort When these memories need spring cleaning
All my thinking folds in on itself* To stand proud, solid and silent as the tree A summer showing of greenest health Conceals the winter dark inside of me
I didn’t bring a gun to a knife fight I’ll not flash cash in a parade of wealth I’m no better than you and no more right I am only better than my past self
Are we are righteous, acting out a virtue? Or is there no other choice, no better outcome? Or do we accept that this is the way of the world? Or is this just a habit, the way we have become?
Which narrative will we use today For each decision that comes into play?
There’s no time to stop, even to live Pushed to the limit, something’s got to give Pumping ugly muscle, pulse under pressure Once busted it stays broken forever
If I wasn’t sitting down when the spin hit The swirling vortex afore me would soon see me sat Cartoon birds circle my head where I sit Stuck in a motion that keeps me where I’m at
A flourishing joy around a rope jump Lush youth laughing and chasing Hustle and bustle, the mad thrills pump Energetic thoughts set hearts a-racing
Spirited shouts and sudden screaming It’s an unharmonious harmonious noise Fresh-faced fancies of everyday dreaming Amongst the funky fires of the girls and boys
We’re chasing rainbows in a clown car* With common sense in the rearview mirror Whilst catching a glimpse of the future Where everything will become less clearer
With my love, my daughters will grow up strong With the wealth of the oil from the olive trees They will rise from the ashes to where they belong To return to their home from the river to the seas
You don’t exist yet No form but aspiring Struggle to germinate To break the seed skin A sprout to be set New growth inspiring Hollow bricks gestate A weapon within
Weakness of various kinds may lurk in a flabby lip* The ill-bred then ill-led by courtier cowards History’s dustbin overflows with rotten words let slip A moral vacuum created in Babel’s towers
When the logos kings vanish, only the dirt remains So sift the glittering trash of golden whispers In search of the truth which in turn explains The fragment promises of unwritten scriptures
*I forget who said this quote but I read it in The Decline and Fall of the British Empire by Piers Brendon.
Poetry is perfect for cliche It’s a better way To say what I want to say!
Sometimes a synonym will do It’s true! At least it’s been thought through
Rewriting what’s previously written I’m smitten With the hand already bitten!
No poems of autumn or spring So please bring Me less cliched words to sing!
Written for a task at AllPoetry.com in connection with cliche. Cliches are often useful, so long as they are not overused, and often express exactly what is required. For me though, I really don’t like cliched poetic topics like seasons or flowers, unless done really well and bringing a new dimension to the subject. I have a pet peeve with some words too but I can’t remember them now because as soon as I see them I click away from reading and forget about them immediately. Next time I see one, I want to try and understand why it is that I dislike it so much! I looked up synonyms of cliche to find bromide! Haha! Never used that word in my life.
He’s a puzzle, perhaps a piece missing No joker himself, he’s just the joke And with his mouth engaged in dissing He’s the bear that you must not poke
She’s a puzzle, perhaps in too many pieces Scattered across the floor in such distress And as the pressure ever increases It was all a game, she must confess
1994ever 