A/N: Somehow this originally free verse turned into a sonnet… guess I just looove structure 😄
My favourite flower is the simple rose,
And isn’t that dreadfully boring?
How ordinary isn’t it, to pick a rose?
When you in the rainforest could go exploring?
But I just love the rose, it cannot be helped,
It’s beauty is just so very simple,
So I stand here now, and I proudly state,
That yes, sir, the rose is my symbol.
So sweet a scent if you handle with care,
Though blood will flow if you do not.
There’s a reason the rose is a symbol of love,
Though I can still feel you call it boring in your thoughts.
But if the rose is so ordinary, so let it be,
But for me; complex beauty is all that I can see.
If I fall asleep now I can get seven hours.
Except I need to get up, because I think I let the stove on.
If I fall asleep now I can get six hours.
Except I’m thinking of all the things I’ve got to do tomorrow.
If I fall asleep now I can get five hours.
Except I’m thinking about all the things I didn’t do today.
If I fall asleep now I can get four hours.
The ticking of the alarm clock is driving me insane.
If I fall asleep now I can get three hours.
I have that big project due next week. I’m not even halfway done.
If I fall asleep now I can get two hours.
How am I ever going to work on two hours of sleep?
If I fall asleep now I can get one hour.
One hour. Surely I can’t work on that.
I’m supposed to get up now.
I call in sick.
First day of a new job.
And my insides are tightening.
Like a wind-up clock.
Ready for release.
A/N: Tried my hands at micro poetry (inspired by Sarah Doughty) and it turned out about twice as long as planned. Oh, well 🙂 Let me know what you think
With a desire
Continue reading Home
A/N: Another short poem, but I am however working on a longer piece (cirka 15 pages), if anyone prefers my short stories.
Time to study.
Time to stress.
Time to work.
To get success.
Time to worry.
Time to drink.
Time to forget.
No time to think.
Time to regret.
Time to doubt.
Now time for love.
But time ran out.
A/N: Another beautiful micro-poem by Sarah Doughty
Today is not
to give up.
(Things I tell
A/N: A poem consisting of an eight-year-old boy’s letter to Santa.
Dear Santa, I’ve been real good this year, so please send me what I wish for as a gift,
Please dear Santa, don’t send me coal, for I’m not on the Naughty List!
I’ve been brushing my teeth twice a day, and eaten no stolen sweets.
And I’ve been a brave boy, Santa, for it is only twice that I this year have wetted my sheets.
I asked mom to turn the night lamp off, and so I lie there alone in the dark.
But I’m a brave boy now, so worry not, last week I even stood up for Mark!
He’s been teased, and he’s been pushed, and this time I said no more!
And Mark and I are best friends now, of this we together swore.
Continue reading Dear Santa…
A/N: This lovely extract is re-posted from Sarah Doughty’s website. Follow the link below for many more of her wonderful poems!
Forget what your parents told you.
Sometimes words can hit you like bullets.
© Sarah Doughty
A/N: So yet another poem for you guys! Enjoy!
Eighty Days ain’t enough, so I travel with drinks,
A new one for every country I go.
In Eighty Days you might see quite a few things,
But the world offers far more than you know.
Sure we can see aplenty, perhaps even reasoned enough.
But the world is far more than merely a lot.
Continue reading Eighty Drinks