A Poem

So I used to write whimsical poems when I was sixteen and first realising how much I loved writing. I wrote about love and made up relationships and the melancholy of pretty much anything and everything. And then, amongst finishing high school and powering through a writing based degree, I reorientated my writing focus toward academic arguments, Psychology studies and 4000 word History essays. And I lost the creative side of my writing- hell, creative writing became my worst English paper at the end of school.

But recently a friend of mine somewhat encouraged me to write again, and it's opened the floodgates a little. So I've been tapping and typing away at the notes app on my phone, and I'm already over posting poetry on my instagram- so seeing as this is my collection of rambling writing, I thought I'd post them here.

(Why posting poetry is so much more intimidating than any other blog post is beyond me... but it is so maybe just spare me and don't read this at all...) (also to the family and friends reading these soppy romantic bits and pieces- it's no one, it's just all I can write about).

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21/05/2019

We’re the snickering pair in the dark corner,

Whispering our stories about the other patrons.

The old man sipping the same warm beer for an hour has just heard his high school sweetheart married her boss.

And his hand is on the small of my back drumming the tune to a song he’s made up.

The shmoozer two tables over is trying his last pick up line on the last poor unsuspecting girl.

And his warm breath is on my cheek, sending chills up my back.

The group of girls are knocking back their fifth round of sickly sweet shots and screaming ‘GIRLS NIGHT’ every time the liquid makes it down their throats.

And my thoughts are swimming in the dregs of our shared bottle of wine.

And a rugby team is jeering and howling with laughter at an outside table, reminiscing their game that evening and every missed opportunity.

And I’m losing track of the fact that there's even a room beyond this booth.

And him and I are huddled in a booth at the back

Writing our book of short stories over empty glasses

And the candle’s almost burnt out

And the other tables are sneaking glances in our direction

At the pair who hide in the shadows of the bar

Consumed in our own little world

Unaware that the owner keeps the lights on past closing

Just to let us stay in our pocket a little longer

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Like I said, I have a bunch of these saved on various devices, so maybe I'll post a couple more just to get them off my mind. And if you have any favourite poetry sites or poems, please share them in the comments!