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Best Poems Written by Darren Mallett

Below are the all-time best Darren Mallett poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Me, Myself and Critique

Allow me a moment to deconstruct,,
Every wall characteristically set up.
And all the fabricated stories from corrupt
Individuals; Residuals of a past, 
I broke through and shattered like sugar-glass. 

Let me tell you; I'm not invincible. 
My personality is not intrinsical. 
My body nor mind isn't irresistible. 
Sometimes my heart and my head cosmically clash,
Emotion covers my face like a rash.

I'm a disastrously lousy liar; 
I can't hold piss for pounds if its worth a few pence.
In debates I can never just "sit on the fence", 
I need to say my bit no matter how intense
The opposite argument may make sense.

I like to drink like most twenty year olds, 
Though sometimes I drink more than my emotions hold,
And sometimes I let those emotions slip in tears 
And open my heart to all my sorrows and fears.
But god forbid I should have a pained heart. 

God forbid I should live a life of youth,
And drink from it all the human traits of life's juice.
When happiness and suffering go hand in hand
I still bleed love and loyalty from every gland... 
...Because I believed in those sacred fruits.

Well just because I build a barricade,
And paint on a brave face to replace my true self
Don't categorically place me on that shelf;
Among alcoholics, arrogant clowns and thieves,
Who handed you the gavel to judge me?

Though all of this stuff may file under "Me",
Don't think I wouldn't move sun and earth, part the sea,
To bring to you what you hold dearest of the dear. 
That I wouldn't hunt through fire-filled chasms, your fears. 
Because, what is love without a few tears?

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Paths

I stand tall; the luckiest man alive. 
Knowing full well, my life's true direction;
For I'll be sure to amount to something, 
Or burnout rather than fade to nothing. 

Though here I stand full of ambition;
Lowly I cower within such future; 
Though not quite as in severe wonderment, 
As in a more extreme trepidation. 

Not yet Twenty-One but ripped from youth's womb; 
Thrown into the deep chasm of adulthood;
Force-fed decisions I ought not to make; 
And forging a trench in life; perhaps wrong. 

Fifteen; was I to know what I wanted?
Sixteen; bio-medicine and forensics.
Seventeen; teaching kid's Literature. 
Eighteen; poetry and teaching English.

And what if once more my heart should change path?
Kill my ambitions? Defeat my prospects?
What if just once more I lose my true path? 
What if my true path is simply to die?

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

A Letter To My Past

How do you like me as I am today?
Twenty years young, triumphantly boasting 
Success through all you had been foreboding.
Casting my vast nets as far as the sun 
While you cast your line in small empty streams, 
Passionately chasing visions and dreams
While you bury your head in sand or run. 
Do you still see no hope for my future?
See the wounds you thought I couldn't suture?

In my past I was but a ball of clay.
Shaped by your hands and your verbal roastings; 
Scarred by abuse and spiteful goading. 
I'm still not the one who mocks or makes fun. 
I still don't pick guys last for my sports teams, 
Because I know what hardship and hurt means;
How it feels to wish tomorrow won’t come. 
Here I stand, the scar-ridden suitor
In full war paint, looking back with humour.

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Mother Bird

Upon the highest branch, glistened with dew, 
Of the strongest oak in a forest, dense, 
There rests a songbird of divine essence, 
With a song as soothing, found far and few. 

Beneath her tough wing, hidden warm and close, 
A little fledgling rests his weary beak; 
Bruised from his flying, too close to the peak, 
But sheltered by she who does love him most. 

And that little fledgling, high in the trees, 
So sweetly guarded close by his true nurse, 
May seek a small feed from her beak or purse, 
But furthest too fly, he is last to leave. 

Though he burned and tarnished his silken wings, 
From ambitions flown to close to the sun, 
Across the world's oceans that bird would come, 
With the loving song his mother bird sings.

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

The Apple

I lay spread-eagle in a field orchard; 
Surrounded on four sides by long-grown, green grass
On a dry, October's noon. Nonchalant.
I watched a small squirrel climb a tree, close; 
The branches shaking violently still.
With a soft thud, a bespeckled fruit fell,
And I watched it drift past my outstretched palm. 
I thought of a line I'd heard too often;
"No man is an island."- or so they say.
I came to see with what I was content:
Though I could lay in that soft aroma, 
Alone with the sweet sound of wind through grass; 
Though I enjoyed spending time all alone; 
I am afraid of living life lonely. 
Terrified of being the star ungazed;
Of leaving nothing behind but my words, 
For words can and will always be challenged.
As I stared on all that is celestial, 
The constellations of my soul aligned.
In my emotion, the grass became rye; 
For whilst I sought to be Camus' Mersault
I was but Salinger's Holden Caulfield- 
Painfully aware of the blades of grass;
Too faddish of their personalities,
Yet hurt more mentally by their absence. 
Still, the hardest part of this loneliness, 
Is living knowing it was my own fault.

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Insignificant

I've found true love within our nature now;
For only when one sees how small he is, 
How insignificant to the big man; 
Can one feel empathy for trees or fish.
To the flower a tree is strong; sturdy; 
Through the current, a fish is powerful; 
Yet man destroys both with ease; remorseless. 
And thus man then also destroys himself;
Raping and pillaging his own life source; 
Encasing his survival behind glass.
And so too, do the huge corporations; 
Suffocating that which keeps them afloat; 
Enslaving the very souls of our youth; 
Bastardizing natural compassion
And degrading our very innocence.
In a world of who has the bigger stick, 
I'm just the trout at the end of the pole.

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Three Times the Charm

I fell in love once, twice or perhaps thrice; 
And each caused only more pain than the last. 
I fell in love once, twice or perhaps thrice; 
And each caused only more pain than the last.

The first was raven; the second was blonde; 
The third was brunette and had three times; gone. 
The first was my childhood, innocent; sweet.
The second; passion-filled love-exquisite.
The last was a girl of half my standard; 
Of whom on lonely nights my thoughts wandered.

I lay once or twice and penned her an ode; 
Of the love I felt that fate had forebode. 
Though clear of the danger, I gave my heart; 
That raven goddess three times ripped apart.

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Devon

Crisp winter red rose; moistened by snowflake; 
The frosted grass on a winter morning; 
A moonlit sky with sweet stars adorning;
And Autumn trees, held alive by the rake.
Two sweet, old lovers, sat on a park bench; 
Sat hand in hand for sixty-something years; 
Loving still, through heartbreak; turmoil and tears;
The sorrow never weakening that clench.
The words on a page, winding and weaving;
Attacking our minds and breaking our hearts;
Molesting our senses like sharpened darts; 
And disproving "seeing is believing".
Though none of these are aware of their bliss;
Nor have knowledge why they are beautiful;
Just like you they make me feel dutiful;
To hold and to love; to kiss and to miss.

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Eve

How I adored the times I spent with you;
Your lips; the taste of red wine and cigarettes; 
Your wild hair and your untamed attitude. 
Though now my adoration falls too short. 
From the bottomless depths of my sinned soul, 
I feel only pity for your stone heart-- 
There is only so much your mind can take; 
Though your excuse is "it makes you happy"- 
There is only so much drugs you can take; 
Only so much wine that you can consume.
When you awaken- should you awaken- 
You won't be as happy as you were once.
When you rise every new day all alone
And have your breakfast from a cracked mirror, 
Will you still love the reflection you see?

Details | Darren Mallett Poem

Where Is She

Here I stand, full of expectation; 
With a rose-tinted perception of love; 
Trawling life for a small slice of heaven;
For my sweetest seraph, sent from above.

Will I find her waiting; bathed in moonlight?
Or kissed by the tender rays of the sun?
Blatantly standing on a street corner? 
Or hiding in darkness until I come?

Does she yearn for me as I yearn for her? 
Envisage me in her soft, blissful sleep;
Stealing her away from all life's heartaches; 
And taking her hand and her heart, to keep?

For now I can only ponder answers; 
Let my heart spell her name in my writing; 
Beg the gods to throw her into my path
and that day she hits my heart; lightening.