Poetry

We hope you enjoy these entries in our

Book Week Poetry Competition!

 

Scribblings of Madmen and Scrawls of the Insane

The stray tuft bloomed, It was terribly afraid of the flowers. The thistle that no one wanted. But the stray tuft bloomed.

Crying minds, filling the streets Of seething floods of people, Clasping wilted roses, Like madmen with unrequited lovers.

Weeping mothers, Sobbing for memories with grey eyed children, Who became nothing, More, but a whisper, In an immense gale.

A small, insignificant book, Containing the deluded Scribblings of a madman and the scrawls of his insanity.

The scrawls of his black thistle. Simple words fill blank paper, Compiled together, years of Pain, thilipsi, love and madness. Pick this up my beloved reader And please be gentle.

For you hold my mind in your hands, Your eyes see me for who I truly am. I’m here, I’m with you as you read and my prodigal child peers over my shoulder. My burden, the one who confines me to the pit, My beloved creation that I loathe and adore. Please be gentle with us,

We have both waited for this moment, Counting the days when you will read. Pieces dedicated to people who would never see them. Until now.

For I am the stray tuft, And I shall wait here forevermore. Until my roots have dried up. I shall forever wait, For each person, To come and read them. And until they do, I shall forever scribble, I shall forever scrawl, I will always bloom.

Oscar O