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Best Poems Written by Esther Walters

Below are the all-time best Esther Walters poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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An Ode To a Levels

An Ode to A levels

I thought I would try A levels, how hard could it be? 
Since then I have concluded, it’s not my cup of tea.
Brainwashed into obsessing over grades on a test, 
They seem to matter more than the fact I have progressed. 
It's no longer about studying subjects I love,
It's about ensuring I reach the level above. 
A levels have forced me to work late into the night,
A levels have taught me, my work still won’t be right.
A levels have shown me that, coffee is essential,
To ensure my work is done, to its full potential.

For hours I revise from; quotes, facts, dates and so much more,
Why is it better to study, than it is to explore?
I say no to opportunities, so I can highlight my notes, 
With no time for experiences, all I know will be quotes! (Thanks Shakespeare!)
I don’t understand the reason for revision,
Is because going to Uni is apparently our vision. 
A levels have forced me to work late into the night,
A levels have taught me, my work still won’t be right.
Yet, A levels continue to make me smile,
As I see if my work pays off after a while.

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The Ghost of Illiam Dhone

My life, reduced to a theory,
written by those I once served.
Furnished with tales of honour 
and shame, they summoned me, 
tried me unfairly,
and shot me at Hango Hill.
For hours, I bore in agony and anguish,
until the burning pain turned
to death’s icy chill.

I often wonder if that fatal shot 
condemned me as a traitor?
Because one could rightly argue 
I have the status of a martyr!
That bullet may have stopped my heart,
but my name shall prevail!  

For I, Iliam Dhone am Mann,
Leader of Manx Rebellion,
I am the state.
As Receiver General, I lived 
to serve my people.  
Their struggles, my own;
they, a divided nation,
Was I the driving force of evil?
Or was I a glimmer of hope for those
in depths of despair?

Struggling with death and damnation, 
they turned to me for hope. 
Can hope prevail without faith? 
Hark Ye!  Some had faith in me!
Was their faith misplaced?
Now, you decide - I, Iliam Dhone
Am I, hero or villain?

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An Island Home

An Island home

A land that is not my own, but one I call my home,
born in the sound of ‘bow bells’, brought up in the squawk of seagulls,
my cockney slang, traded for a gaelic twang.

I stepped off the boat, a journey to a home away from home
greeted by a gust of wind, my new life was about to begin.

I fell in love with the foaming blue, glistening in the sun,
I fell in love with the grey cliffs, towering among emerald hills,
I fell in love with golden sand, spreading between my toes.
 
That night the moon shone brightly in the clear sky;
Inside the sea-beaten walls of Peel Castle,
the Moddey dhoo howled its sad tale.

The beauty of the hills still mists my eyes,
All around me, Manannan cloaks this magic isle.

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Does Anyone Care

Does anyone care?

A cut of the wrist, a slit of the neck, a final jump,
And just like that, another life has ended.
I’m crying for the victim but also the killer as;
stroke the fragile skin of his porcelain cheek,
As I run my fingers over his broken veins,
As I save his body from the unforgiving floor,
An act of kindness which has come too late...
My tears and my love don’t bring him back,
And I am left with a body, adorned in self-inflicted cuts.

Wrapped in the comfort of your home, you may wonder;
Why, the unnecessary, suffering and pain? 
But do you really care? Do you really want to know the truth? 

With each sunny day that passed, he fell,
Deep and deeper into the depths of despair,
Waiting for someone to reach in and pull him out.
With each hunched step he took, he stumbled,
Crumbling under a burden of self-hatred.
No-one helped him up.
I didn’t help him up.
He was left to die, wondering, ‘Does anyone care?’
He left before I could even give him an answer.


05/03/2020

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Masked

Masked 

If you pass a glance in my direction, a shell you will see,
An image that's skin deep, not a true portrayal of me.
But please, take the time to slowly peel away my mask, 
Just one person takes an interest, that is all I ask.

You lift up my vail to observe the rippling emotion haunting my face, 
And you feel the heartache which lingers in a shadow’s place.
You step closer to feel the harsh gusts of glacial winds, 
Which escapes from my body as a breath.

You peered into my ocean eyes that were once bright, 
To be confronted with the pain that's dimming my light.
My tears that fall are as many as the words I have left unsaid,
And my scars are accumulating like the list of things I dread.
Your face is hardened to it all, my situation is misread,
you don’t even notice, I don't have an actual bed.

Your movements are mechanical, your language monotone,
Your lips, forced into a smile, a gesture, soon overthrown.
You nod along, but you don’t really care,
You should be grateful, to others life is unfair.
I tell you that I am somewhat cold, but I lied, 
I'm too numb for my feelings to be identified.
You ask me if i'm hungry, yet you offer me nothing.
Now it's you turning away, slightly blushing.

I stopped looking for help when the fire left from my eyes,
I realize isolation goes hand in hand with dehumanisation.
My robot state isn’t due to old age, but from being brushed aside
A feeling both weather and humans provide.
 
I clasp my hands together, which are as clammy as the dead,
As I prepare myself to sleep, where most people tread.
Alone, now that you, like everyone else, has left,
it dawns on me, i'm more human than those who walk on home,
Because at least I don’t have a hardened heart of stone.

I hug my arms around my knees, 
To make up for the vast absence of love,
As I close my heavy sunken eyes in rest, 
I blot out my desire to lean on a caring chest,
I hope to travel to a world where I can stand tall,
Without returning to realitys harsh call.

I want to help you step into my broken shoes,
So try to envision a world with no light, 
Where the dimness shrouds the views before you. 
Envision a world with no colour, 
Where a leaf looks equivalent to the ocean. 
Envision a world with no hope, 
Where your life has been mapped out on the streets.

My mask slipped down, to invite you into my broken, homeless life,
A life, which I alone, treasure because it is the one thing I own.

Details | Esther Walters Poem

Ana

Starving stomach, food in the brain,
Some say disease, others say vain.

Her new friend Ana, showing the way,
Worshipping scales, twice a day. 

To her, she is way more than fat
to others, way thinner than flat.

The built in rule, let food in,
And you will never be as thin.

Her friends find her weight an ordeal,
Ana’s at the sink ‘helping’, after a meal.  

Pounds are lost, herself is lost, 
Shirking her food at all cost. 

As she dwindles, time deprived,
Remember before Ana arrived.

She eats through her eyes instead, 
Frenzied with hunger, eyeing the spread.

She is a small ribbed frame,
She is a figure of worldly fame.

Meals alone, meals hidden,
Counting calories, craving the forbidden.

Lies to reassure, more lies to hide,
Concerns from loved ones, brushed aside.

No more than bones, too weak to fight,
She confronts her friend ‘Ana’....  Anorexia.


22/02/19

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Bitter Sweet

Dedicated to a special boy who was my foster brother for a while.

Bitter Sweet

Our memories are locked inside my chest,                   
Just knowing you, I am extremely blessed.
When you entered my life, you made your mark,
Your presence filled our house, long after dark,
You're not a sibling, but you’re more than a friend,
I'm so grateful for you, one can't comprehend.

Your voice would brighten everyone's day,
With a ‘Hey’, you greeted people on the way,
The most special moments, were unplanned,
Like a nighttime hug, or when you held my hand,
I loved the way you made us so happy,
I loved every moment, even changing your nappy.

Thanks for the memories you left in my heart,
Saying goodbye to you, was the hardest part,
Which is why, I love seeing you once in a while,
Just hearing your voice makes me smile,
I was sad when you left, but I know you haven't gone,
You have just moved home, to where you belong.

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Fairy Folk

Fairy Folk

Ignoring those with little wings, 
will leave a curse that tightly clings. 
For, hidden in Manannan's cloak,
are the Island's fairy folk. 
So say 'hello' while on their land, 
or be victim to their meddling hands. 

A fairy known for her vampire traits, 
the Leanan Sidhe patiently waits. 
With tales and promises of success,
she lures in those who transgress.
As their love for her takes control,
she destroys their gullible soul.

A price that many men would pay,
for her to drain their heart away. 
So be aware of those with little wings,
as they are capable of unnatural things.
For, hidden in Manannan's cloak,
are the Island's fairy folk.

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Waves

Waves

Underwater, the chains, tying me to the world, break, 
In the rippling waves, my shivering body does quake.

Underwater, my body as weightless as a ghost lies, 
Where all sound is muted, where salt stings my eyes. 

Peace engulfs me in waves, as power drains my thighs, 
I swim against the tide, further from the world I despise.

In my chest a fire rises, as my lungs screamed for air,
Underwater, I near a new life, above all are unaware.

Pain consumes my body, regret fills my mind,
My frantic arm movements, are they waves?  Are they blind?

Tumbling like the waves, the seconds in the sea, 
My unbreakable heart stops, then swims free. 

To die, isolated, all alone in pain! 
I am not the first, nor the last, in vain!

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Hidden Battle

Hidden Battle  

Explosives echoed in the silence of his room, 
Each one signalling his imminent doom, 
War had long ceased, yet it still lingered in his head, 
His body had healed, yet it was filled with dread. 

Like soldiers his memories attacked at night
Leaving him wounded and consumed with fright, 
His wife watched on, as war claimed his mind 
Taking everything, leaving just his shell behind.

In the depths of the night he batted with his past,
Shutting down questions his concerned wife asked.
Haunted by the smells, sights and encounters he faced
He battled with an enemy that couldn’t be traced 

They said war was over when he came back home,
But a new war had started, that he was fighting alone,
A war against the unheard screams,
A war against the blood stained hands,
And a war against PTSD.