The Thunderstorm – Poem

When the lightning’s flashing
And the night is cold,
When rain pelts against our single-glazed windows
With holes at the frame,
I thank whatever it is
That I made the decision
To stay in tonight.

Imagine

If we’d gone to the fire jam,
Just us, some friends,
And a lot of trees,
Standing out in the rain,
Rain so hard that we can barely
See three feet in front of our face,
Trying to keep our equipment dry
And our fires still burning.

No.
I’m glad that I’m here,
Inside, in the warm,
Getting drunk on cheap gin
And £2.20 bottles of cider,
Listening to the storm,
But tucked away from it.

Imagine
If, by some impossible chance,
The doorman didn’t check your ID tonight,
And we were at the club?
Overpriced entry
To stand in the fag pit
Smoking wet cigarettes
With only peaked 18-year-olds for company.

No, we’ve got this.
The sky is electric,
And so are we,
Embraced, mainly in silence,
With the occasional commentary
(And run-through of this poem)
To break it,
But we’re safe.
To be with you is to be myself,
And I know it’s the same for you,
And, trapped inside,
With the storm raging,
I feel like I’m in a film,
Where the heroine realises she’s loved him all along.

I’d considered, briefly, going out
For a walk along the sea,
And while I’ve no doubt the waves would be amazing,
We’d be freezing,
Wet and complaining,
Wishing we were home in our cozy little bed,
With our speakers and booze,
Our own private party.

It’s getting louder,
And brighter,
Like the world is ending around us,
Like we’re approaching the Black Gates,
But that’s out there,
And we’re in here –
Our own, private sanctuary,
Just you and me,
Standing strong against the elements.

That’s not to say
That we’re not both wishing
We could go outside without the threat
Of paranoia and a chance so minute,
That Zeus might strike us,
But we are together,
The one thing that never would have changed,
And for me, that makes my night
A good night.

Dedicated to Alex, my best friend, my love, my companion.

It Started With “Hello” – Spoken Word Piece

So, for the past three months or so, I’ve been trying to write spoken word poetry, after being inspired by the Poetry Slam I watched at WOMAD World of Words. I appreciate that this isn’t the same effect as listening to it (although I may record it at a later date), and that it probably needs a lot of work – I’m still learning!

Another thing I want to mention, because I’m paranoid, is that this is a completely original work, and the only place I’m going to post it) as far as I know, is my Wattpad account (also GoldDustLizzy).

Anyway. This is a poem about love.

It Started With “Hello”

It started with “hello”,
A wave across a room,
A friendly smile,
And a suggestion that we meet for coffee.

He told me that he came from Reading originally,
But grew up in a small town outside of Windsor.
His parents divorced when he was ten,
And his older sister is married with a son.

And he was beautiful.
His eyes were kind,
His face elegantly angled,
And his voice was soft, like an angel’s song.

I asked him out for drinks, but he faltered;
He had plans with another girl.
I guess that’s fair enough –
He was an Adonis.

I asked what she was like,
But he refused to talk.
It doesn’t matter, he said,
They were going for dinner.

The next day, I persisted, and asked him about her.
He seemed more open.
They’d had a fight over…
…lasagne, or something?
He shrugged it off like it was nothing, but I saw my chance.

Their fights continued,
From what I can see.
He’d come in dejected, and I like to think
That seeing me would brighten his day.

He said he’d told her about me, once.
That she hadn’t been happy,
That she’d asked questions,
Interrogated him about me,
And I hope he said good things,
Like he said he did.

One night, he texted me,
Saying she was freaking out…
Again.
And could we talk about it tomorrow?
I said, “of course!”.
My face was glowing.

After that night, he was happy to see me.
We got drinks between lectures,
With no faltering this time.
He bought me a rum and coke,
Even though I’d offered to pay for it myself.
Yet, still, he ran back to the other girl.

What did he see in her?
She didn’t make him happy,
That much was clear.
What did she have that I didn’t?

It all made sense, when I met her later.
She was gorgeous.
Long hair, dark eyes, slight frame.
Little pout, shy mannerisms.

But how she shouted!
When she was set off, the heavens would shake.
So much anger in one so small.
Why did he put up with her?

Months into our friendship, he’d confide in me.
Many things would make her angry.
She was constantly distressed, and
I told him she wasn’t worth it, but he denied me.

At least, his words did.

“She hates how I -”
She hates you having fun.
“She hates when you -”
She hates you having a life.
“She hates how I talk about you.”
Because you can talk to me.
“She hates when I see you.”
She hates you having friends who aren’t her.

It was me he could trust,
Me he could confide in.
But she tied him down,
Relentlessly,
Angrily,
His freedom was compromised
As long as she was there.

I yearned for the day
When he’d finally realise
That she really wasn’t worth his commitment.
She’d never give him what he wished for.

I could.
I really could.
If only he’d see that.
If only, if only, if only…

Then, one night.

One strange, wonderful night,

He kissed me.

His lips were soft and sweet,
Like cotton candy,
To be cliched.
His touch was desperate,
Passionate,
Intense,
Clawing for affection
In that dingy nightclub,
Pulling me towards him,
As though he were clinging for his life.

He’d finally realised,
His decision was right.

Her?
She’s a problem no more.
A distant memory,
A wall between our love.
A wall which now has crumbled.

He and I were meant to be.
A love which was pure,
A love like no other.
She was just a jealous bitch,
Incapable of realising
That he was better off without her.

She is gone,
Her reign is over.

And, it makes me think:
What is it like,
To be the other girl,
Desperate for affection,
While his solace comes
From the arms of another?

But, never mind.
His choice was made.
A happy three years came to naught.
But, me? I’m fine.
I’ve won.
Now, she’s but a distant dream.
Now, she must realise
That nothing halts a true love’s path.
She gave her life to him,
I know,
But, now, his life is all to me.
I know she’ll find another man,
But at this point,
I couldn’t care less.