They chant...

They chant
God Save Us
Their voices swooping
Like maddened birds

They stand,
Still still still
A cleared forest
Of stumps stumps stumps.

They pray,
Your will not mine,
As the waves crash
Against the walls.

I want
to scream murder
My voice ravaged,
Crucified, silenced.

Please, please,
Save yourselves
You poor, stupid,
nothing congregation.

Time

Now Time
is just empty space
between kisses.

Is it a sentence? Is it a haiku? Is it a love sonnet? THE CONFUSION O_O

Reflection

What is the point in reflection,

If all I see is myself?

Out of my mind...

I'm finally out of my mind,

I couldn't stay there any longer.

It was driving me mad. 

Memory Loss

I am confused
But I don’t know why.
There is no excuse
So I let out a sigh.
I persevere,
I try to remember.
But my condition is severe,
It has been since last September.
Or maybe it was December?
I really can’t remember.
I try to resume
My daily routine.
Please let me go home,
This place is too clean.
I consumed the tea
It tastes really great.
All the little things
I try to appreciate.
They persuaded me to come
With free biscuits and tea.
They said it would fun
What happened to me?
I haven’t seen my family
Since last December.
Or maybe it was September?
I just can’t remember.

We wrote this three minutes ago for Michael's Year 6 poem project. Hope he gets an A+++++! XD

The Vine

Curling, creeping, strangling-

this feeling is a vine

rooted nowhere, feeding.

This feeling isn’t mine.

Mask, please come and take me,

I’d wear you like a cross,

heavy and unpeeling,

so they won’t see the loss

of innocence and life,

that reassuring pulse.

Where is it now, I wonder?

Now everything is false.

Even me, trusted friend

of me and I alone;

I sing, but now, no answer-

all music overthrown.

Why is this fan so heavy?

This foolishness in lace.

My wrists are weak, I cannot speak,

nor even hide my face.

So please mask, come and take me

and end this wretched road.

Make me believe the lies they see

so I won’t let it show-

that this vine grows inside me

and whispers every day

its rootless words, it mutters-

as all meaning slips away.

The End of the World

The end of the world approaches.
We will go out in style,
luxury and decadence.
The sky will open like prison gates
iron grey, while below we drown
in gold, the manmade kind
that will never have the value
of Old Sunshine.

Oh, misery-!
that this is to be our fate;
burnt from the earth
by rain and fire and drought,
as pestilence is burnt
from a cadavre,
as the mummy
is prepared.

But as the cogs are scoured,
I will sit, grave and still
in the last bar of Old Sunshine
and love as a virgin loves.
I will not see their starving faces,
nor hear their lurid screams;
I will close my eyes as
their architecture falls.

Our bridge of dreams will break,
swamped by golden, swollen seas.
There will be nothing left to give,
but the very last pure heart-
mine, beating.
And everything will cease
but your memory, trapped
in Old Sunshine.