-to a best friend-
canvas adventures of musical nights, hazy moments of smokey times. when wHispering turns into giggles and higher they climb.
midnight adventures green in the dark, hills and woods you can tEll apart. a guide in the night by a vodka-filled heart.
sombre adventures induced by tears, a sadness we can only share. eLevating a friendship further it dares.
engine adventures closing the distance, spontanEous visits and summer heat. a house becomes a home, a new family to meet.
adventures of love we both find, questioNing how much it will cost? a shoulder, a hug you offer, I boast.
adventures of laughter closing our days, opening the door to the future ahead. a bond, a tie you offer, things that should never go unsaid!
adventures of a friendship, quite unlike anything that has ever existed.
The pebble smoothed out by the pressures of “no’s” and “no one heard you”,
A smoothness that creates a glaze of complete perfection.
But a glaze is only a glaze.
The pebble is placed amongst rocks, boulders, mountains,
The pebble is a speck, faded by the blanket of the clouds.
And a speck is only a speck.
Does anyone hear the pebble when it’s engulfed by the waves? Where the rock makes a splash, everyone knows complete awe.
The blackened words that spread over the page,
leak into the spaces not yet filled by meaning.
My words diminished by your dark totality,
the pure essence of truth you are speaking.
My words are fearful and reluctantly –
protected by the armour of a fettered cage.
Yearning for the oblivion of honesty,
where we can speak from the same coloured page.
The outbursts are unbelievable and
endearing, they are trying to offer a key –
that moulds to the intricacies of my chains and
endeavours to release, captivate me.
My words learning the safety of freedom,
constantly taught by your words – the motivation.
You are slowly releasing my honesty too,
beyond walls that are demolished by you.
Director: Christopher Nolan
Continue reading Dunkirk // Film Review
This time last year I had finished my first year (the foundation year) of my degree and now I have just finished my second year. I am officially halfway through and amazed that I have even made it this far! However, my second year has been incredibly better than the first and even though this time there isn’t anything that I want to write about specific to my second year, I still want to document the year anyway as a kind of memory log.
Continue reading The Second of Four Years // Beth Morley
You don’t feel like yourself,
unable to think, confused, there’s nothing going through your brain.
You can’t think of anything, nothing’s going through your brain.
In a slump, it’s infuriating,
there’s nothing wrong yet your mind can’t stop thinking
that maybe something isn’t right.
You can’t think, so you don’t know what’s not right.
Nothing’s going through your brain.
Everything that needs to be done, remains undone
and you don’t feel anything.
That’s a lie,
there’s anger but you can’t direct it.
You want to shout at yourself to do something,
to do anything but nothing’s going through your brain.
There’s wanting to be the best you can be
but how can you be your own magnum opus when you don’t even know
what that is.
Knowing that whatever you do will fall
short of even satisfactory, you’ve fallen again.
You’re restless but you can’t move, what can you do?
Lightheaded but burdened by the threat of everything unknown,
it threatens it’s impending weight upon your head.
Your brain, your eyes and nothing is working.
You exist as two: one who is aware
and understands but is still incapable of achieving.
You’re trying but limits exist as barriers
taunting your potential.
You stop trying.
There’s the one that thinks this but also exists as nothing,
nothing is happening and nothing’s going through your mind.
You have no energy to not believe in yourself
but the thoughts still exist somewhere,
they’re just waiting.
By Beth Morley
The Handmaid’s Tale
Author: Margaret Atwood
Date Read: 6th June 2017
Continue reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
Author: Charles Bukowski
Date Read: 25th May 2017
Continue reading Post Office by Charles Bukowski
Where did the time go,
I can’t really tell –
washed away by the remnants of an evening faded sun.
Walking along –
I believe – it did seem
ideal and serene, merely a dream.
Don’t close your eyes,
it will just fade away
into the darkness.
The darkness that is
the moment itself –
behind the veil of smiles the moment is dying.
For it wasn’t meant to be,
I guess that paths don’t collide –
I’ll pretend that I don’t mind
but I’ll remember the light of the evening and the sea sounding sigh.
By Beth Morley
Author: George Eliot
Date Read: 10th April 2017
Continue reading Adam Bede by George Eliot