Misjudgement is only normal thinking on a bad night.

Missing Observation, Misinterpretation.

While young and relatively beaming
With my words, crisp and second hand,
I sometimes find inspiration unobtainable
A figment running low, on high demand.

I’ve read in books, seen quoted far too often
How simplicity is the key to new idea,
But if my observations have taught me anything,
It’s that the simple things are often most unclear.

A single line is harder than a portrait
Because we never know if it is right,
That deep and hidden sense of reassurance
Translucent in the words we want to write.

Nevertheless, I task myself with a duty
Uncovering forgotten sights I’ve always seen,
I realise then these places are incredible
But never in the way I thought they’d mean.

So common are the stunning and the beautiful
But only when you know you need not look,
Hiding in plain sight is inspiration
But seen as oh so normal and mistook.

I get it now when they speak of that simplicity
Misleading as the message would appear,
Untrue it is that we must search for beauty
For now I know that beauty’s always here.

A compilation of poems I will undoubtedly be unsuccessful for.

Forever in the heart and always down the road.

It’s hard for me to describe my home, to put to words this feeling
Of the backbone of my life, these walls, their cracks begin revealing
A whole new side to this dear house, and all the seeds it’s sewn
Those seeds now weeds along the path that wanders to my home.

I remember dodgy wallpaper, when everything was taller
But now that’s just fond memory, that time when I was smaller
Yet fundamental things have stayed, not lost from my before
The drawings on the wall I did, the book I still adore.

Never far from this dear house, never out of view
And even as the time ticks by, this house still feels anew
I know that when I do grow up, I’ll think of this small ode
This home’s forever in my heart and always down the road.