Poems for Presents 2- Simplicity

Simplicity

People talked about a simple life

Where the petal of a rose was enough

Or a bright Sunday morning of frost

All quiet, all watching and waiting

The simple life left people with only themselves

It revealed the love, it grew from the peace

But I, quite simply, had the world

Loved to be worshiped and count jewels of success

So simple hatred is what I found

Through my blind eye’s greedy glow

But simple love of people, I found

Was impossible to know.

The Flaw of Supremacy


If you only played the dream
And sang nothing but the love,

The spirit and the depths of the soul
If nothing mattered but the pleasure

And all you wrote rang in perfect harmony

What would you do in order to forget?
Plagued with the boundary of infinite joy

Would you live here with me as a human,

Or inhabit a parallel world as a distant star

The Artists

Yet another poem to help the days flow by and keep myself motivated on arty things! 

  



The artists learnt to love before they could draw. 

The drawing came easy, loving was the chore

Judged, destroyed, rejected, criticised

It would seem the love had gone from inside
The artists learnt to listen before they could play

The playing came easy but the listening would say

‘That was horrific- play it again’ so again they would try

But trying didn’t work so the artists would cry
The artists learnt to live before they could act

The acting was easy but the living slapped back

When most people live they don’t have to ‘do’

But the doing was the acting, so their living was too
The artists learnt to feel before they could write

The writing came easy but the feeling was… Shite 

They wrote what they felt but when feelings all were gone

They’d write someone else’s to prove nothing was wrong 
The artists learnt to smile before they could dance

The dancing came easy but the smiling was pants

A smile always expected from each pretty face

Until the smiles weren’t natural, but in a darker place
Before the art, learnt to love, listen, live, feel and smile

These things came first, their art took a while

So if their art be absent, or taken once more

True artists have all learnt how to be sure

That the love for their art will never die 

However deep it goes, it will return to fly high

But should the loving, listening, living, feeling and smiling hide

The artists will find what they learnt  first, what made the art, on the inside