UKC

These are my creations, I just do it for fun, enjoy them, or don't, there here for your perusal. They are untitled but hopefully self evident.

To sit alone on rock or mound
In blissful peace to hear the sound
Of insect creatures, birds and breeze
whispering grasses, rustling trees

The quietest place I've ever been
tunnels deep that few have seen
No light no wind no steady drip
but dry bare rock, a miners trip

Yet even here not all is dead
There's still a sound, within my head
That silent voice that stirs no ear
Wordless thoughts that you can hear

Some sit like stone to make it mute
Yet these silent words they bear fruit
Is this myself this inner me?
Perhaps Ill listen, Ill wait and see

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A rugged face, a handsome mane
So neatly trimmed, so slightly vain
His hair tied back, what has he done?
For atop his head there sits a bun!

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The wintry fields in misty lace
A cloudless night reveals the grace 
Of endless jewels in distant space

Glistening pearls adorn bare stems
while bristling holly hold red gems
A sleeping woods the bramble hems.

Round thickets bare and icy stream
Crisply treading past windows gleam
the land asleep in brumal dream.

[From lantern lights a soft breeze bring]
[Tales of old; a choir does sing]
[Hark Angels' words - here's born a king]

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What's so special about the moon?
A rough rock rolling around in orbit
A simple sphere spinning silently in space
Because it's all there is to see?
Teasing an arc across our sky
Just out of reach 
But within imaginations grasp
A dream away from daily drudge
We ponder
The incomprehensible distance
Without reference
A silver mystery in the black and blue
So long inspiring philosophers
The Dreamers and the mystics, 
The common and the curious
From mountains of madness
To Monsters and the misunderstood
I can but stare in wonder
As it spins on without regard
A foil for our brevity
A stepping stone to the stars

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Thursday o woe
Where'd the week go
We rise and we lay
Work and some play
We read and we speak
And a day is a week

Dare I open my eyes
What day, a surprise
Morning then noon
Too early the moon
At last time for dreams
Now morning it seems

The cycle it turns
The candle it burns
Come love and come strife
Unexpected is life
Say what is my age
Turn 'gain stories page

Feel free to add your own if you fancy

Lovely stuff. Nice thread too. 

Not really a poet, but enjoy writing. Here’s something I wrote last year about spring and the positive effect it has on my mental health:

“At Least For Now”

Morning stretches slowly,

Refreshed from burnt dusk.

Fleeting beauty bounds,

Soaring songs reach deep.

Lemon yellow scatters,

And blossoms heaven scent.

Soft, warmed breath,

From cool blue skies.

Cotton spins above,

Where spirits stir below.

Awaken the senses,

Leave dreaming to sleep.

Beyond the shattering,

My peace of mind.

Here forever,

At least for now.

edit: not sure why those paragraph breaks have appeared. Sorry about that!

This one is called "What have you ever done on grit?" I'm sorry about the rude words! Just reflecting real life. Ah! It wont let me post because of those words.....so slightly changed them.

"So what have you ever done on grit?"
You're in my face, I feel your spit
 " I once led Peapod, it was tough! "
 "Nah it's piss easy, not hard enough"

"OK then what's your hardest flash!"
 You're in my lungs, I breath your hash
"I did Black Chipper, is that all right?"
 " Top ropes don't count, you're just plain shite"
 
"And have you ever led Extreme?"
 You're in my head, I want to scream
 " I did The Corner but pulled on gear"
 " I soloed that four times last year"

"Well what about your biggest fall?"
You're on my nerves, I want to bawl
 " I don't like falling, the rock is rough"
 "Then you're not trying hard enough!"

 "Kid, You aren't coming and that is that"
You're my big brother, and you're a tw@t!
"Mam made it plain you must take me"
 " Time you grew up you're Forty Three! "

A rugged face, a handsome mane
So neatly trimmed, so slightly vain
His hair tied back, what has he done?
For atop his head there sits a bun!

^ This is class. 

A black hole is noted by its absence
The effect it has on those around it
Simply being, draws us in
A natural gravity, inescapable 
It alters the very flow of time
Perspectively slowing to infinity
Of its intricate complexity and depth
It reveals little at a glance
Save the fortunate few who know
How to gaze in to its heart
 

I have never been afraid
Of the living nor the dead,
Ones that may be dwelling
In stillness beneath my bed,
The partly open cupboard
Clothes hung on the chair,
Things that brush so lightly
Unseen against my hair,
Of crawling shadow shapes
Or waiting things unfed,
The realest darkest monsters
Are those inside your head

The grass is green and the sun sets low, 

the hill call my name…

the bird fly high i work the day,

the hills call my name….

the end to the week is coming and i can feel its nigh,

the hills call my name…

the weekend has come and the hills is my name……

I wear wolf.
The dead animals pelt across my back
Rough and close against bare skin
Protects from wind and sun and rain
I am safe.
No more the withering looks and jests
Folk draw aside and let me be
I am brave.
Its hide moving with muscle and flesh
Branches tear at tattered clothes
I am alone.
Fearing no beast nor device of men
The forest and dark places call out
I, werewolf.

A bit of a silly one of mine, but I like it.. 

An ode to a fallen comrade:

Where valliance ends above a cauldron hot,

Defiance of gravity can continue not.

The hardened spine of oat did break,

The dark, sweetened coat could no longer take.

Oh why did you fall o wonder of me,

Sweet hobnob dear, you fell in my tea.

RIP milk chocolate hobnob 22/10/2012

Very silly. Everyone knows that hobnobs don’t fall in the tea………

Mine

A house, my clothing, a car
be I hermit, an author or tzar.
Every farthing or bhat or dime
they're all just borrowed from time.
Everything i've grown since birth
will one day return to the earth.

Within this skull I reside
The soft wrinkled matter inside
It too is made of this world
there all of my senses unfurled
Im not here thinking you see
Its these thoughts that are me