The Second of Four Years // Beth Morley

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.
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To The Invisible Ocean // Beth Morley

You don’t feel like yourself,
unable to think, confused, there’s nothing going through your brain.
Emptiness.
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.
It’s frustrating.
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

Sea Sounding Sigh // Beth Morley

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

Tint of the Rose // Beth Morley

The hue of pink
a delightful illusion,
reality and hope on the brink
my mind a confusion.

The petals are misleading
far from me reaching,
the happiness I’m feeding
from the illusion it’s breaching.

Stem twisted and tangled
far away yet clear in my mind,
nothing but this rose, not yet mangled,
is the only thing I want to find.

Waiting but searching still,
with the optimistic sight,
that comforts and thrills
my downhearted might.

Ignorant of the now, the present, the living
that you need to take as a virtue,
‘It’s expected of the future for giving
better things’, gloats the pinkish hue.


Beth Morley