Of a stranger in a strange land

No one is here, no one you know
No one is here with nowhere to go
No one is here to sing or to call

No one is here, no one at all

No one is here to ask you to stay

No one who hasn't yet gone away
No one is here to tell or to ask
No one to take a look beneath your mask
No one is here to pass you by
No one to smile and catch your eye
No one to see, no one to hear
No one to take the edge off of fear
No one at all on this cold, hard stone
No one to make you feel less alone
No one is here, no one you know
No one but you, with nowhere to go.

The Challenge of Learning

What a pity it is,
there's something amiss.
In the class where I learn,
all I do is yearn
to put down my head.
Better yet, go to bed.
To shut out the noise
and the teacher's voice,
with eyes tightly shut
dream peacefully, but (!)
for decency's sake
I must stay awake.
I must try to find
and reel in my mind
and put it to use
and staunchly refuse
a snooze to allow.
Though being sleepy, and how!
So, with eyes open wide,
a nap is denied,
and the battle is on
to stifle the yawn.

Loss

Sometimes, it's dark,
pitch-black, empty, deep.
A lightlessness painfully stark
.....frozen....
Step after step taken,
all there is, is the dark.
Sleeping shadows awaken
.....invisible....
Sounds unheard, sights unseen,
I feel them pressing in.
They are no more, but they have been.
.....lost....
Realities imagined, waking dreams,
subdued under the glare
of a thousand dark beams
.....intangible....
Desperately disappear, too terrified to stay.
Cloying fear, suffocating, and...
a spark winks into existence, far away
.....mockingly unreachable....
and fades.

WARNING!! to future idiots

Note: There's some things you should know before you read this. This poem is -
1. written in an unbelievably exhausted, and therefore delirious, state.
2. NOT meant to offend anyone!!! (especially not our dear reporters!!)
3. It really wasn't so bad working on this magazine :) great fun actually!


Envision, O Envision,
magazine so beloved!
I wish you'd get done with,
and stop messing with my head.
It's so hard to believe,
after all I've done and seen,
what drove me insane
was working for a magazine.
It taught me a lot of things -
No-one cares about skill,
it's all about STORY.
Also, editors can kill.
Copy-editing ain't so easy.
It definitely isn't fun.
Most reporters (here), with pens, are
like a monkey loose with a gun.
Be warned, future copy-desks,
to this job should you aspire,
make your will before you start.
There's a good chance you may expire.

Rural Arrival

We walk along the hillocks,
amongst the scrubby trees.
Watched by the birds and
caressed by the breeze.
Traveled long and hard we have,
our feet are sore and weary.
The undulating landscape,
by even light, is dreary.
Step by step advancing
along the dusty road.
Night is falling thick and fast
and rest is still remote.
Looking up above the sand,
I quote a thankful prayer.
For I have seen a tiny light,
so faint, somewhere up there.
Destination close at hand,
the pace picks up fast.
Visions dance before my eyes
of comfort come at last.
Soon, the first of the fields
comes sweeping into view.
Greens and yellows stretching out
light up our eyes anew.
A tiny twinkling eye
peeps out a nearby house,
vanishes to spread the news.
The neighbours are roused!
One eye is soon replaced
by two, ten and more.
Until, excitement bursting,
they come rushing out the door.
Swarmed by gaping faces,
overwhelmed by smiles.
Curious, wondering stares
serenade us for miles.
In the warmth of welcome,
of no comfort deprived,
comes the happy realisation,
we've finally arrived!