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Best Poems Written by Anna Wakefield

Below are the all-time best Anna Wakefield poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

Just The Dog, My Mother, and Me

I walked along, hand in hand
Strolling towards the trees. 
I was happy, had no care, 
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

I ran my hands, through the green,
Humming - carefree as can be.
I was content, and had no fear,
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

I closed my eyes, to feel the breeze,
Smiling so blissfully,
I sighed, then, I remember -
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

I opened my eyes, and the trees were bare
Barren ground surrounded me - 
I screamed, wordless, held on even tighter
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

The sky then bled, my mother screamed
As to why I couldn’t see
My dog barked, and I held on to
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

My mother looked at me, her mouth was open
Still screaming silently
The dog whimpered, why was it only
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

She then faded, I ran after
Holding my dog helplessly
I knew then that image was over, of
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

When I stopped, she was gone, and so was the dog
They were only memories.
Nightmares or dreams - the only way it can be
Just the dog, my mother, and me.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

The Library

I read, like an open book
All others can see the words written on my pages.
I contain tales, read as secretive,
A hushed whisper that only a handful have seen.

But how many times has this book been checked out?
A sea of white masks, deadpan through the years
So cherished once, now faded, emotionless.
Forgotten both to me, and I to them.

My secrets are secrets no more - 
I own my past, without connecting to it.

I am an open book, because who has to connect with a story?
People can project on a tale, 
As what better to have in a confidant,
Than a horror story?
Something you can read from the comfort of your bed,
A scary, scarred stream of words that seem otherworldly.

Frankenstein’s monster will never be faced - 
So, too, is this failures’ life.

You understand, you say.
You sympathise, you say.

But how can you, when I checked myself out long ago.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

Why The Abyss Stares Back

Time passes, fear grows
All eventualities
Seep in like poison.

A façade of peace,
An underbelly of pain.
Two halves of one world.

Cracks begin to show.
Forked tails in elegant clothes
Eyes open to more.

Wide smiles show fanged teeth –
Hunched over those that still pray
Is your God alive?

Lands over the sea
We used to think they stood tall.
Now, all is falling.

I’m a Nihilist
For who could look at the world
And still have any hope.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

Frankenstein, or Just The Monster

I feel nothing, and everything.
An empty echo.
Trapped, screaming but yawning.
I go unheard.

There is a spark, 
A promise of reanimation
In endless pools of blue.

I can die and live
A thousand lifetimes
In an interlocked gaze…

But what happens
When the jolt 
No longer
Reanimates
The dead.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

Spring

Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,
The end of all we knew.
The death of all the love and trust, 
To be reborn anew.

Spring, rebirth, a phoenix, 
All symbols we have seen.
One step forward, not a trick
Fleeing from where I’ve been.

Who was I? It matters not,
What matters is where I go. 
Sure-footed now, giving all I have got
Can’t let the relief show.

The past is behind, and I don’t dare look back - 
Or else I may lose the way
One day at a time, my plan of attack,
I am stronger, or so they say.

What will I face? I’m excited to see
Despite all I’ve left behind.
The worst has now gone, I guarantee
No more will I be blind.

You’re by my side, that’s the difference this time
The reason I’m so sure - 
We've both had to hide, now there's you in your prime,
Two halves of something pure.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

The Fire

I had some news today.
The kind of news that sits on the surface
Skimming like oil on water.
Then, when least expected,
A match is dropped
And the oil burns.

I watched the fire
Dumbfounded
Knowing all I could do
Was to let it burn out.

There is nothing but ashes now.
The oil is gone. 
The water is gone. 
All that is left is a black, toxic sludge.
I stare
Knowing I need to face it. 
Knowing I need to sift through
The ashes
And sludge
And fear
And horror
To find what's underneath.

Will anything be left?
Or will I be scorched
Condemned.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

The Infinite Moment

There is a moment,
But it is seldom felt. 
It seems as though breath catches-
Wind stops-
And there is a pause in the relentless tide.

That moment can stretch 
For what can seem like eternity…
A blink,
But an era passes…
And true reflection is a possibility.

Some never feel this wonder
Some have never felt the tide or
The ebb.
They have had no heights to overcome
And so no need to pause.

I remember the moment
I realised my make up, my core - 
Who I was -
Was deemed abnormal, unusual
And felt fear.

Every moment since then
I have fought so many wars
Internal, external
To be accepted, to be loved
And lost.

The wins last but a moment
But the scars left are permanent
Deep wounds.
“Unconditional Love” a foreign concept
And abstract.

The unending moment does end.
New, alien, acceptance 
And love
Eventually emerges, with luck…
And I smile.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

R-Evolution

The universe was created not with silence,
But with a bang.

Most people scream as they enter the world,
Slipping from silence to sound.

My creation was not sudden.
My creation seemed infinite.
My revolution
Evolved
From hate.

I have no memories of innocence,
But many swear it was there.
I was born
As innocence died.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

OCD: The End of Me

I pick and scratch and stretch
Mutilate
Infect
Bleed
It drives me, separate
From relief
Akin to hunger.

Manual breathing
Counting
The minutes
The bites
The steps
Call it a quirk
I name it demand.

Addiction
What is an addict…
There is no powder
Or liquid
But still I feel ants under my skin
Until the ritual is complete.

Compulsion is one thing
Obsession another
But when the two meet,
The horseman ride
And I don’t know if the end will come.

Details | Anna Wakefield Poem

The Difference

I identify as both
and neither.

I felt myself 
With this self.

So why when I walk
Is it an invitation?

I do not exist for you, 
Or you,
Or them,
Or anyone.

I exist for me. 

As my age has enlarged,
So has the hubris
The stares 
And expectations.

I do not walk for you
Or talk for you.

So why are my steps only safe 
And my words valid
When accompanied?

Why is touching
Groping
Harrassing
Stalking
Acceptable, or brushed off.

I have my identity, 
But the world will always expect
Me to come second,  
And to smile while you yell.

Best Poems Written by Anna Wakefield

Just The Dog, My Mother, and Me

The Library

Why The Abyss Stares Back

Frankenstein, or Just The Monster

Spring

The Fire

The Infinite Moment

R-Evolution

OCD: The End of Me

The Difference

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