Alex R and Hugo W


At the moment, we are writing poetry with a dark theme. We hope you enjoy our poems, and come back regularly, as we will put up more.

Thanks, from Hugo and Alex

 

 

 

Long Forgotten

 

In her house, the dead dog lies,

Crawling, and infested with flies,

In the corner, a termites' nest,

Long forgotten, no longer a pest.

 

She opens the door, crawls in on her knees,

On her face, stings from bees.

Once in, she strokes her sofa gently,

This where Adam lies, incidentally

He never woke up, never said goodbye.

 

A knock on the door, who could that be?

Adam again, the person she didn’t want to see.

But Adam’s dead. How could this be?

She’s seen him again, another dead memory.

 

“Oh Adam, be it you, at the door?”

“No Ma’am, it’s me, come to re-carpet the floor.”

“Why come in my dear, have a seat.”

“That, I will Ma’am, for it be you I want to meet.”

 

“May you stay for a long time, young Adam.”

 

Hugo W and Alex R

 

 

Pain in the Kennels

 

Barking in the kennels, drips in their eyes,

Drugs all around, no escape in sight.

Pups given away, goodbyes, all lies,

Barking in the kennels, drips in their eyes,

Ready to be tested on, as their friend dies,

Unconscious, lying there, they can see the light,

Barking in the kennels, drips in their eyes,

Drugs all around, no escape in sight.

 

Hugo W

 

Stars No More

 

She looks up through the rusty telescope,

Stars look so close, she could pull them in with a rope,

Better than her dark cavern she calls home,

The stars are so free, and she so alone.

 

She remembers the days when she danced on stage,

Broke people’s hearts, made every front page,

But now she is poor, and filled with rage,                         

For he broke her heart, and now she is gone,

Disengaged.

 

Reminiscing, a tear drips down her face,

Gazing through the atmosphere, into space,

Eyes clouded, cheeks flushed,

Brain funny, soul crushed.

No Hope

 

Another peek through the telescope,

This time, can she cope

With the endless nothingness that is the sky?

This time, a comet, no longer a lie.

Hope

 

Alex R and Hugo W

 

 

 

Möbius Poem

 

“Fingernail Cutting Time” screamed Mum;

Horror, pain, terror, snip.

The children run off, scared;

Run, crash, thud, snip.

She runs at them, clippers bared;

Sharp, snap, click, snip.

They meekly hold their fingers out;

Talons, grubby, shiny, snip.

The severed nails tumble down;

Translucent, white, metal, snip,

They cry, but without pain;

Sorrow, anti-climax, tear, snip;

Slowly, the white tendrils grow back, devouring anything in their path;

Time, life, passing, snip.

 

Hugo W