Click on the link and read this special poem written by Steve to celebrate women all over the world. Stripey (Steve) is one of Wattpad’s creative poets.
https://www.wattpad.com/229553984-world-international-and-national-days-march-march
It’s FREE to read on Wattpad
I would like to introduce you to Glyn Hockey an amazing poet who has recently had his collection of poems WINDSWEPT picked up by the Outerbank Publishing Group. Glyn’s poetry is officially published under the name Owain Glyn. His poems are written from the heart, flow with ease and often read like a song. If you enjoy reading poetry you’ll love reading WINDSWEPT.
Owain Glyn is a Welsh exile, currently living on the wild Cornish coast, a land of legend, from King Arthur, and Merlin, to mermaids, pirates, and smugglers. his love of words drives him to write on a wide range of subjects, from romance, to humour, politics, dark spiritual matters, and children’s poetry. He writes in a style which he hopes is accessible to all.
To all the lovers of poetry and Owain Glyn’s fans, here is the promised interview with the great man himself. Yes that’s him in the pictures too.
What made you start writing poetry?
I joined a poetry group at University to make new friends, poetry was the best friend I met.
How old were you when you wrote your first poem?
Around the age of eighteen. Although I stopped during my commercial career.
Is there a reason you opted for writing poetry instead of a novel?
Poetry gives me the opportunity to use words in a completely different way from prose.
Would you ever consider writing a novel?
Oh yes, I am writing a novel based on a family shortly after the second world war, as we speak.
Where do you get your inspiration from to write your poems?
I am an inveterate observer, I find inspiration everywhere.
Is WINDSWEPT the first collection of poems you have written?
No, my first collection was humour based.
Can you remember the very first poem you ever wrote and the title?
I can, but it would be far too embarrassing to make it public.
Is there any hidden truth in the poems you write?
Oh yes, although I try to write simply, I do hope some people will see into the depths of my writing.
Many people connect poetry with romance, are you a romantic person?
Yes, I think we all are, if we are truly honest with ourselves.
Is there a particular poem in your WINDSWEPT collection that connects you with that someone special in your life?
I was hoping you would not ask that, but I hope they all do.
NOW 4 ON THE SPOT QUESTIONS –
Who is your favourite poet?
If I have to choose, Edgar Alan Poe.
Which Windswept poem is your favourite?
I am proud of them all, but ‘Gems’ is very special.
If you wrote a romantic novel, what would the title be?
Love in all its Colours.
If poetry was expressed in colour, what colour would that be to you?
I think aquamarine.
10 POP QUESTIONS – please write the first word that comes to mind (be honest)
Windswept – Romance
Inspiration – Everywhere
Nervous – Always
Desperation – Coffee
Sultry – Cleopatra
Worldly – Me
Experience – Useful
Pleasure – Writing
Temptation – Cigarettes
Thank you for your time Owain Glyn. It has been an enlightening interview into the head of an excellent poet. I am sure your readers will enjoy reading your answers and getting to know their favourite poet a little better now too.
I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you ever success with all your future publications, be they poetry or novels.
A SOFT SUMMERS DAY
We sit by the stream
On this soft summers day
Entranced by the dance
As the Dragonflies play.
A waggle tailed Moorhen
Leads young to the nest
While the arrogant Swan
Knows she’s looking her best.
In the meadow the mad Hare
Continues the chase
As the spider weaves webs
That the sun turns to lace.
Overhead soft white pillows
Cross pastel blue skies
And I gaze with pure joy
As I see skylarks rise.
I look at you sleeping, a smile on my face
And I thank Mother Nature for sharing this place.
The silver stream gurgles on its merry way.
As I glory in you, and a soft summers day.
Owain Glyn
WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
What would you do
If I turned up on your doorstep
At two in the morning
Dressed only in my violin?
You know,
The one without a bow
That I play in the metro
Tunnel,
Surrounded by funnel web spiders.
I don’t stay,
Because they say
It’s illegal,
And anyway
I can’t play.
This is nonsense
Of course,
Just like
The pantomime horse
On my bedroom wall.
All I really want to say,
Is what would you do
If I turned up on your doorstep
At two in the morning
Dressed only in my violin?
Would you send me away?
Because I can’t play?
Owain Glyn
MY CHRISTMAS PRESENT
I’ve bought this large red fur lined suit
And knee length boots of black
I bought them in a clearance sale,
So I can’t take them back.
I’ve rustled up some reindeer,
And stolen next door’s sleigh,
I’ll hook the two together,
Then I’ll get on my way.
I can’t afford a satnav,
I’ll manage with a map,
It seems to stop at Dover,
So the thing is pretty crap!
I’ll make my way up to the sky,
And gather you some stars,
I’ll wrap them up in moondust,
And pretend they came from Mars.
Do you have a chimney?
One that I will fit?
I really do not wish to look,
A red, fat, stupid git!
But know I’ll make all efforts,
To be with you Christmas day,
Please try to be patient,
In case I lose my way!
Owain Glyn
WALLS
As I approach your fortress,
I see the dark forbidding walls,
Towering to scratch the sky,
Stern sentries at every entrance.
I look in silence,
Knowing that these walls,
Protect you from storms,
Pain and heartache cannot permeate.
I set up camp below your towers,
And prepare my vigil,
And draw my quest,
To set you free.
Know this:
I was Joshua’s mentor at Jericho,
I aided Ghengis Khan to overcome the Chin,
I instructed Job in the art of patience.
The love I hold for you,
Defies all impediments,
It will forge cracks in these defences,
And let in shards of sunlight.
Tear down your shrouds within,
Replace them with golden tapestries,
Play, at last, sweet music,
To welcome me.
For my love will be your protection,
My love will be your shield,
And your salvation,
You will have no need of walls.
Owain Glyn
SAFE HAVEN
For many years I have drifted
Aimlessly.
Across many seas,
And moored in many harbours.
Some have been too shallow
Others
Provided
No protection from the storms.
Fierce winds have blown me
Far off course
And I have followed the safety
Offered by bogus lighthouses.
I have been hypnotised
By siren song
Whose navigation
Led me onto reefs.
I became resigned
To drifting
And sought
No bearing.
One grey day
While drifting in the fog
Far out to sea
I saw a light.
Without expectation
I followed it
And it led me to a safe haven
It led me to you.
Owain Glyn
I would like to remind all poetry lovers and even those who may occasionally stumble across a poem they read and do like – tomorrow – yes that is Friday – I will be hosting an amazing poet who has been discovered by a traditional publishing house.
Owain Glyn Author of Windswept has kindly consented to an interview and allowed me to post a sample of the poems you will read in this truly wonderful collection of poetry.
Although his poetic words are easy to read and not complicated to understand like some poems I have read, his words have a pure honesty about them. While reading Owain’s poems you are transported into sincere feelings of a heart open to every emotion.
This is definitely one poetry book you will want on your bookshelf.
After reading the sample of his poems please feel free to leave a comment. I know he will be reading all your comments and responding through my blog post.
I will be hosting an amazing newly published poet on my blog next week. Glyn Hockey is an outstanding poet who has been spotted by a publisher and I have the pleasure of interviewing him.
Not only will you be able to read about this gifted poet but you will be able to read a selected sample of his poetry.
Keep your eyes peeled on this spot for more about Glyn – a poet who touches your heart with his words.
You should read “The Human Spirit” on Wattpad. http://w.tt/1JmhStP
This young 17 year old student writes the most amazing poetry. You’d think he lived a thousand life times…
I am from Yorkshire, England. Married and have a daughter and baby granddaughter. I used to be a baker, printer and lastly a special needs teacher, a job I enjoyed so much.
I first found Wattpad while looking for some poetry to read. They say there is an app for everything so I searched the android site and found Wattpad. I started reading some poetry and one of the writers suggested I write a poem. This was something I had never done but I thought why not have a go. I am amazed at how popular my work has become and to date I have written ten poems.
You can follow me on Wattpad at http://wattpad.com/stripey
I HOPE
I hope he looks over here
although I’m in a crowd,
I hope he looks over here,
I could shout his name out loud.
I hope our first date goes well
and there are many more,
I hope our first date goes well,
I am in love for sure.
I hope this engagement lasts,
we’ve been together a year,
I hope this engagement lasts,
for him I’m always here.
I hope he turns up at church,
a nervous time for me,
I hope he turns up at church,
together we’ll always be.
I hope our baby soon arrives
and she is fit and well,
I hope our baby soon arrives,
he’s excited you can tell.
I hope our grown up daughter
gets on well in life.
~ # ~ # ~ # ~
GRAVEYARD SHIFT
I slowly open the graveyard gates
trying not to make a sound,
It’s one o’clock in the morning
and the spookiest place around.
I had missed my last bus home
so I walked this way instead,
I never thought I’d be so scared,
I wish I was in bed.
I came across a gravestone
for a person that died today
but how could that be written,
something’s not right I say.
It was then I started to panic,
the gravestone bears my name,
I need to get away from here
so frightened I became.
I soon realised I couldn’t move
no matter how I tried,
I was sinking into the ground,
next a coffin opened wide.
A voice suddenly spoke to me,
said thanks for passing by,
so nice of you to drop in
and release me, I must fly.
Now here I am all alone
in the silence of the night,
stuck inside a wooden box,
I’m the living dead alright.
The days and weeks just pass by
and again it’s getting late,
then I hear that noise I yearn,
the squeaky graveyard gate.
I just hope they visit my plot,
I sense they are getting near,
in a flash they are next to me,
I say “freedom, goodbye my dear”
~ # ~ # ~ # ~
NOWHERE TO GO
The snow falls gently on the ground
in the middle of the night,
although there wasn’t any sound
everything was turning white.
It is the start of winter,
the coldest time of year
and for the homeless people
it is a time they fear.
They huddle up in doorways
trying to keep warm,
hiding from all nature has
and hoping they’ll see dawn.
Why are people like this,
it’s a failure of mankind,
while the rest of us move on,
they have been left behind.
Some were just like you and I
but whose bills they couldn’t meet,
they lost their jobs and homes
and ended up on the street.
So spare a thought for those
who have nowhere to live,
help them to survive winter
and give what you can give.
~ # ~ # ~ # ~
VALENTINE’S DAY WEDDING
This story is about the wedding of Fiona and Robert, as told by Fiona …
Valentine’s day had arrived,
the happiest day of my life,
today was the day that Robert
would take me for his wife.
Our families enjoyed the day,
the reception full of laughter,
by the time they had all gone home
it was two o’clock or after.
Although it was our wedding night
I was tired and ready for bed,
but Robert didn’t want to sleep
he had other ideas instead.
Although I tried to protest
he threw me to the floor,
then I saw a side of him
I hadn’t seen before.
As the months and years went by
the more abusive he became,
he had turned into a monster,
I’d hang my head in shame.
Where was the man I used to love
whose love was pure and true,
he’d turned into a monster
and I sit here black and blue.
Valentine’s day is here again
but my love for him has died,
I cannot take much more of this
I hurt so much inside.
Robert is due home any minute
so I wait behind the door,
he staggers into our kitchen
and drunkenly hits the floor.
Behind my back I have a knife
so I stuck it in his chest,
I stabbed again this evil man
and put his life to rest.
Now I am in the court room
about to learn my fate,
the jury are out debating,
I feel in such a state.
Not guilty is the verdict,
the relief makes me feel weak
at last I am free of him
as tears run down my cheek.
So now I have my freedom
and hopefully a better life,,
I still have one friend to help me,
a good sharp kitchen knife.
~ # ~ # ~ # ~
FOR EMILY
Emily was such a happy girl,
she had everything in life,
a loving wonderful boyfriend,
she was soon to be his wife.
But then came news of a car crash,
and her boyfriend he had died
Emily’s heart was broken,
no longer to be his bride.
She left her home in tears,
she felt alone and sad,
how could she cope without him,
the only love she had.
As Emily walked across the bridge
she could hear the waters sound,
and that’s where her life ended
her body was never found.
This poem is dedicated to Milan
I discovered this young poet quite by chance on Wattpad. He is only 17 but writes with a hint of an old soul. His poetry transports you into a world of such sincere emotions. I do hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have.
DREAMS
She sits alone- crying, forgotten, mocked.
In her scarred hands, her head she rocked.
She knew not why they kicked and spat,
Why they called her stupid, dumb or fat.
She sat alone on the cold stone floor,
Blades broke, but her skin wanted more,
And with every tired, troubled sigh-
She died in living, and lived to die.
She painted her sorrow in tears of red,
On canvas brown- from where she bled.
And in the shrouding darkness of night-
Knew she was going to lose this fight.
Scourged for being society’s scourge,
Singled out for being unique in this dirge.
Mocked by “friends” for no reason but mirth,
Her Life was winter without fire since birth.
Another night passes, she lays down her head:
The realm of dreams- where only roses are red.
Where she was not different but unique in her world,
Queen of her conjured universe in her bed curled.
Free from the mortal shackles and fleshy nightmares,
She picks daisies and catches fleeting, fluffy hares.
And in society’s nightmare bursting at the seam,
She finds solace from earthly fetters in another dream.
~Jeffrey~
~~#~~
Death of a Dream
The final fading threshold-
Bursting at the seam.
In fiery anguish we hold-
Only to wake into another dream.
The comforting dark shroud,
Caressed by the moonlight.
The shade of a passing cloud,
Through closed eyes- to find sight.
To visit lands and realms unknown,
To be invincible- gods even.
To visit wherever we are blown,
To be ghosts: immortal- unseen.
Then the sky is torn in a bloody scar,
Ichor bleeds from rent darkness.
The reverie fades into something far.
We return to reality’s starkness.
Ra’s infernal Chariot crosses
The virgin darkness- deep and wide.
While sparrows chirp the night’s losses,
I wake in tears- another dream has died.
~Jeffrey~
~~#~~
Merry Christmas, Mom.
Mom,
I know this was hard for you, I’ve had to battle stuff too,
But when all’s said and done, I guess I always had you.
But you’ve never had anyone, no shoulder to lean on,
And I guess I broke yours, over the years that have gone.
It’s always been hard for me, but it’s been harder for you,
So I guess this is it, I’ve found out the whole truth.
I never thought this could happen to you, why didn’t you tell me?
Oh, I remember, it was because I was too much of a jerk to see-
The truth behind the snow and all the gifts- that you were hurting,
That this thing was eating you slowly, while I was busy flirting.
They keep saying it’s never too late to apologize,
But I guess it is now, bet you won’t be able to rise.
I’m sorry, mom. That’s all I wanted to say.
Your life’s been nothing less than a cold winter day.
But it’s the least I can do to stand here and admit I was wrong,
Amidst the cold winter chill and sing this sad old song.
I remember you taught it to me, did you have cancer then too?
I guess you did, you never even told me, did you?
I guess this makes me the worst son you could have hoped for,
But I’m going to sing “Merry Christmas” though you’re no more.
Guess what, mom, I’m going to join you, ’cause I can’t bear it,
So, Merry Christmas, mom, I promise I’ll be around in a bit.
Your son.
~Jeffrey~
~~#~~
Chained By Freedom
The storm’s passed- free at last!
Then why does my weary soul not sing?
This sky’s still overcast-
Now you’ve left- why does my heart not ring?
Why does the world still seem to be mourning?
And every tree sad? Every bird singing low?
Why does my heart still seem to be yearning-
For the blaze of autumn in the immaculate snow?
This love, you had said, was not meant to be,
Alas! I thought- the fiery passion of love yields
To the cruel gust of cold temptation: Yet I’m free!
But my heart beats not, eyes see not- hands cannot feel.
Return, my cherished bloom of life-
Return to the arms of this heart-broken wreck,
Before the night’s too cold- the strife
Too great or the noose to great upon my neck.
But what’s that? You never were mine?
What is life, then? But a dream sublime?
The love we had- was but a hallowed lie?
Then who am I? What is time?
What was it then? But another dream?
To see in waking slumber too?
And in this memory bursting at the seam
To believe in something called the truth?
And who are you? Are you mine?
Or is it but another dream my mind
Has made in this world of mine- or thine?
To these questions Who will answer find?
And He who knew the answers too
Would stay aloof in the run of life-
Allowing love’s farce ‘twixt me and you-
Like a vulture in the dying’s strife.
Wilts this rose on ground so green?
Dies our love in passion tender?
Who has known and who has seen?
Who will true love to me render?
Why are these walls surrounding me?
White as clouds on a summer day,
It was winter but now- yet now I see:
The perfect white of a virgin sunray.
I see so many faces, are they all real?
Is this my life, or my dream I live in?
Why not live a dream with full zeal?
Is it wrong to live in dreams- is it a sin?
Speak, oh you in the white coat,
It is not me, but you who are insane,
It is society- a girl- who cut my throat.
Freedom from her put me in these chains.
~Jeffrey~
~~#~~
Guardian Angels
Slithering serpents writhe in fire
A dying soldier’s funeral pyre,
Blazing across the darkened sky
While innocents and innocence slowly die.
“Die Free” the men in suits had told them,
Myriads of men- children- they condemned.
While in Parliament, money propelled warfare,
On the field- Death was dealt with little care.
Missiles tore through the sky’s clenched teeth,
Wishing upon falling bombs, soldiers underneath
Gave up their lives so that others could keep theirs.
An irony which- at your soul- claws and tears.
It is these men: Cape-less heroes and nameless saints
masked by insignificance- with ne’er a complaint.
These men who work from dawn to dawn
Who are Guardian Angels we always count on.
“Dulce et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori”
But Wars only end when someone says sorry.
Sitting in safe armchairs- it’s hard to see
The truth about freedom- It isn’t free..
-Jeffrey-
~ ~ ~ # ~ ~ ~
Phoenix Rainez 