Here are two of my most recent poems. I coined the word "colded" mostly due to my mind favouring sounds and expressing thought, tempo and such through those sounds; it therefore is simply to speak to something made cold, affected by cold, frozen almost but not precisely.

5/3/2021

What kind of person will Mother of mine be?

When next I see her with eyes tired I have?

Will still she make tea in the house forever cold?

Or are now siblings rising to take her place?

And mute the east end song forever singing from TV?

Can I find a rabbit, not an Emma nor an Eeeve but someone new?

Bouncing round the kitchen floor, maybe begging for cuddles?

Who will we be when we meet again?

Shall we remember and recite the talk from hurried keys?

Or shall that be gone with the wind and that day the first to talk?

Will Romford remember me and will I remember it?

The strange land of misery and hate; a remarkable land where hope grew

A tiny town confused by the past; yet encouraging people unleash new air

Will the MET still walk in circles and the suffering lie beneath their feet?

Are buses still cheap and splashed with forever red?

Do gangs roam the streets and weather roam the rest?

Are my schools still standing, unchecked and arrogant?

Whom will I see when I walk there once more

Nary a pigeon shall know of how far I have flown

And there be souls whom know and some who knew

And it was this first land where most precious friends met

A grand fellowship once thrived, I recall well

Around a girl whom gave her world so we may thrive

If only I could see you there, Alice;

If only seeing you was as simple as visiting Romford land

Where would we go? What would we do?

Everything, I hope; that we've all longed to speak and do

And so, soon, as lockdown dissipates, maybe a bridge shall be born

To traverse a long forgotten road

That we may see again the faraway

But for us with grief and pain

The bridge is far, far too short

An evil temptation promising freedom but full of deceit

For our loved shall still be missing, however far we walk

And with extra importance then, we must grab whom we can reach

Yet this lockdown is but one

For the first was born in heart

Chained are we, away from reach of our Alice

We remember you always

I walk to even family, however arduous

Inspired by your bravery and truth

The love that keeps on giving

5/3/2021

Freedom in sight (Freedom from sight.)

I can barely fly with Aquila's wings

I can barely sleep upon colded dream

Now I know a force unbound

A force this fellow knows not

Should my wings fail to rise

Should my beak lower once more

Will I dive to the Earthy abyss

And fall prey to snake and his hiss?

Now, now; all birds struggle

On and on, oh I can struggle

Struggling past stormy skies

And the incessant tongues full of lies

Through clouded vision

And horrible waste

An unending sun, once held dear

Even you I now so fear

What did he speak? That human and a name

Ah, Icarus, whom drowned under freedom's gaze

Should I whimper and dive so wind may carry?

Or energise and let force meet my parry?

Is hate something which we can abate

I wonder...

I wonder why this bird must fly

Through every land and see to disband

Yet never breathing well nor pausing for smile

I flap and croan and these are my days

Turn back; spy

It chases me still

It looms, that horror of the dark

Growing, growing, anticipating and ready to roar

Well I can roar too; I very well can

This sky lion does not cower

Oh so sad, oh so sad

To once cower, would this be joy?

The weight of a world lifted

If instead I may fall silent

No war to chase no game to win

Only faith to pursue

Lest I entirely fall

And whom would catch this flightless bird?

Whom scurries for diseased wing tired?

I do not know, I do not know.

On and on I fly

Until the very day I die