Help me forget

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Help me forget this city where I dwell
The grey granite walls I now know so well
My dreams gone adrift in the oceans outside
Among the sharks and the tide we all know as life
So help me forget the extent of our sins
Seven most deadly deep within every skin
They come and go cut us up like a cake
Till there’s not much left and we’ve nothing to trade
I cannot forget all of these troubles
Lacklustre love and obligatory cuddles
Family, friends and a foe that’s myself
Put value on status instead of our health

Can you help me remember where I belong
Is there sun, sand and sea or do we just soldier on?

(Ryhme scheme – AABBCCDDEEFFGG)
©gretlfeesonpoetry
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Debris of dreams

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To whom should I write these letters of love?
These letters dropped down from some kingdom above
For what could he know of devotion and trust?
Or to know only lust is never enough
Easy to find be it land, sky or sea
Notably absent when your eyes fall on me
It sails and flies with both mercy and pity
I long for the country but dwell in the city
Drenched in these tears; can belong only to you
Created so many yet good in so few
Wretched keep taking with both knife and gun
I keep asking myself, oh what have you done?

Awake in the morning to the debris of dreams
Teas in abundance thinking what might have been

(So this is debris of dreams reworked to the form of a John Clare sonnet in that it adheres to the AABB-CCDD-EEFF-GG rhyme scheme, has 14 lines; three quatrains and a couplet but with regards to meter don’t ask as I really struggle with this, especially on a line to line basis as some seem like iambic pentameter yet others seem different. As far as I understand it, that’s supposed to be five iambs (da-DUMs) yet the sylablle count for my sonnet is 10-11-11-11-10-11-11-12-11-11-10-10-12-11) I’m so confused haha

©gretlfeesonpoetry

 

Cruelest

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Cruelest is the man who sits and says nothing
Stand alone stare with a harrowing message
Or maybe it’s the poorest, crudest of man
Who we all brand as violent, biting at hands
But then what of the angry indignant man
The one who feels drained with no moral compass
Moans and groans develops own brand of justice
Then there’s the soldier in all different shapes
Who plunders and kills or kidnaps and rapes
No words for the actions of each head of state
No words for the actions of the man who won’t stand
No words for all those who play life at high stakes

Doesn’t life burn you when spending it thinking
So here we all are; fast living and sinking

©gretlfeesonpoetry