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Lee Price Poem
Pushed aside, location of home obscured, limited by isolation:
drifting aimlessly - subscribing to a voluntary incarceration.
Outcast by an alternative perspective, a differing sense of direction,
through a desire to develop resolutions to numerable imperfections.
Others recede into bad habits - shirking from every challenge,
placing emphasis on ignoring responsibilities; yet expecting a life that’s lavish.
So it’s hardly surprising when their dreams fall by the wayside,
having taken the easy road too often, they’re fighting against a landslide
to recuperate what was lost, or rather thrown away by being lax and care-free,
they’ve imposed upon themselves a limit, as to what they can achieve.
Armed with the powerful weapon of fore-sight, I clawed myself out of the rut,
but it’s little consolation for having to watch my friends get stuck.
Trying to avoid a patronising tone, I conceal myself into anonymity -
uninspired by foolish games, approaching every overture with timidity.
Wanting to tell them to change, to realise their mistakes,
but sometimes things are hardest to see when they stare you in the face.
It’s their life to live, and do so how they wish -
I just pray they realise: there’s more to it then “getting pissed”.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
Like a warm cotton bud used to give inner ears a clean
there is something comforting about routine.
Knowing where you stand and the order of play,
knowing what to expect at every point in your day.
Living to a schedule, everything has it’s time and place -
knowing the slots you have free for any plans you need to make.
Wardrobe colour-coded, in garment order.
Wallpaper with a matching border.
Appointments at ten to, five to, on the dot.
Check, double-check, the doors are locked.
Yellow ball, green ball then pot the brown.
Big box, little box, upside down.
I like to gaze into the sky and dream, of an afternoon.
Relaxing. Like the scent of a chaste tree, when in bloom.
A cold glass of lemonade, a long and foamy bath,
humming along to the radio, a love that warms the heart.
Reading the Sunday paper, and making it an event,
the delightful things the kids say, things only they could invent.
His reputation precedes him: a disruptive, class clown.
Never completes his work, he’s always mucking around.
A big-mouth, show-off with far too much to say:
He asks if I ever considered teaching him in a different way.
‘A physical learner’ - he’s heard about it on the news.
There could be something in it…but I’ve far too much to do.
Cars whiz about, people in a hurry.
“I’ve waited over an hour for my curry.”
Twenty four seven lifestyle, word abbreviation.
Text message becoming the preferred means of communication.
Everybody rushing, to keep on schedule, to maintain status quo.
Everyone a cog in the system: You’re whipped, if you don’t row.
Seamless is the transition between asleep and awake,
when you just let it happen, not worry about being late.
An unrushed project results in a rewarding prize:
taking your time meant you got it right.
So bin the itinerary, flout the rules,
just for once why don‘t you try something new?
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
Cherished memories
are the reminiscent source
of future daydreams.
Friends disperse, forget.
They’ll become strangers to me,
once I’ve said goodbye.
Adventure awaits:
the dawn of a new era’s
almost upon me.
Realising my dreams
and achieving my targets -
my life is on track.
Facing the unknown:
daunting and mysterious.
I conceal my fears.
I try to picture
my destination, prior
to my arrival.
Now its time to leave.
Ending, ended, over, gone:
my journey completes.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
After the summer sun, once the waves have had more than they can swallow,
a melancholic mood looms large, wherein the floundering victims wallow.
The sudden descent into silence hits harder than the outburst of noise before -
because the volume alteration is accompanied by a message we choose to ignore.
Empty crisp packets blow aimlessly across the void of vacuous beaches,
this incisive message resounds repeatedly, but is lost on the audience it teaches.
Strewn across the fields,
is produce of the summer’s yield:
broken buckets and spades lie dishevelled, dreaming of the sandcastles they used to build.
The owner of the café passé on the pier
returns to her farm for the rest of the year:
hindered by the accumulation of summer commerce: the litter she has to clear.
The greasy burger wrappers
serve as an embodiment of what matters:
the ignorance and carelessness of a hedonistic society, that leaves our world in tatters.
The non-biodegradable remains of tourism and consumerism mask the countryside’s face:
assorted towers of summer’s rejects distort its authentically elegant landscape.
The litter is unavoidable, profit takes precedence for those in need,
so we slowly tarnish our world as a consequence of greed.
A murderer in the dock, society tries to conceal the facts:
our fast and furious lifestyle will prevent the earth remaining intact.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
The only trophy of the love we shared,
The sole reminder of what once was,
The last remnants of our time together,
Burdened me like the cross.
Somehow the good times drowned in a sea of arguments,
diluted by the hatred, anger and spite;
washed away by negativity,
only to resurface at night.
This keepsake of our relationship –
A scar across my heart –
Seems so unjust to me,
A negative reflection of our past.
But I’m strong enough to look beyond the pain now.
Finally ready to break this spell,
and heaven knows I need a new lease of life
because I’ve spent the past few months in hell.
The key to getting over you?
The secret to moving on?
Is accepting that what’s done is done
And our time together has gone.
A part of me will always be yours,
You’re my first love, I’ll never forget,
But I know there’s someone else out there
Who I can love without regret.
So fly away now darling,
Seek the virtues you couldn’t see in me.
We both knew it was flawed come the end
And that we’d each be happier free.
I’ll never forget your smile,
Or the love I’m yet to shake.
But my grieving needs to stop now,
It’s time to move on and embrace my fate.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2010
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Lee Price Poem
Your voice initiates pandemonium; a series of butterflies taking flight in my chest.
Your smile reeks havoc with my nerves, a sight that always takes my breath.
Your touch is like a gift from heaven, a token from above,
every segment of your aura has contributed, to make me fall in love.
Moulded to the very definition of sublime, sculpted as prescribed:
you possess beauty unparalleled, no one is as you are inside.
Honestly ambitious due to intellect, with a sensitive soul:
everything I would wish for, but my heart bears your beauty’s toll.
I cannot compete for your affection as I don’t match up to your perfection,
to tell you I loved you would serve only embarrassment - I’m just one of a collection.
Maybe it’s timidity, but I’m loathe to express what I know:
my dejected heart strains with pain and forlorn longing, every time you go…
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
Pizza boxes line the floor and litter my recent calls,
I don’t know the time of day or the last time I ventured outdoors.
Lost in my own worthless abyss, drowning in my thoughts,
Look at this mess you’ve caused.
I’ve watched so much TV that my eyes literally feel square,
So detached from reality, I question if I truly care.
I haven’t brushed my teeth for a week or so much as styled my hair,
Instead I’ve sat cursing God for ignoring my prayers.
I look at my ‘friends’ and try to broach the subject, knowing this effort’s in vain.
I talk from the depths of my heart, uttering unspoken truths, revealing the weight of my pain.
And I look to their faces, try to fix their gaze, but I know they have nothing to say.
So I wallow in self pity, shutting out the world, resisting the urge to escape.
I reach to you in desperation, in a plea for an alternative resolution.
The nastiness I provoke plunges me deeper in confusion:
You tell me to get on with my life, that my love is a delusion.
I no longer know what I’m doing.
I take an open-top bus ride around the place I call home
And don’t even recognise the ‘places of interest’ I’m shown.
I’m oblivious to the tour guide and his incessant drone –
I spend my journey looking expectantly at my phone.
Burdened by the weight, of the misdemeanours and mistakes
That took me to this place, through a pointless, perpetual chase;
Engulfed by the bitter taste, of the agony I must embrace,
I spread my wings wide and escape.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2010
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Lee Price Poem
Jealousy, greed, or something in between.
A belated response: my chance has already been.
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush -
you being with him reminds me of the path I should’ve took.
A mocking jeer at my self-indulgent indecision,
clouded sense of self-worth, I truly believed I was omniscient.
Disregarded your beauty, the pure essence of your personality.
Sacrificed what could’ve been the love of my life, for the sake of my vanity.
Lamenting the error of my ways gives rise to nothing other than pain.
I thought I was a player, but got played by the game.
Engrossed in whatever seemed the biggest challenge, when it was clear-cut,
we were intended for one another and I messed that up.
Don’t want you to be my Rosaline, be my Juliet:
Otherwise I may lose my mind in a cyclone of regret.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
Success induces affinity, a sense of familiarity, recognition.
Similarly it instigates mysticism and scepticism: all based on ‘intuition’.
Thoughts accumulated without reason, nor justified perception:
A man who stares into a mirror, and doesn’t recognise his reflection.
On first name terms with ‘The Beckhams’, and Hollywood’s elite.
They’re not characters, they’re people, on Coronation Street.
Remarkable. How soon someone can be engulfed by fame.
Suddenly an average Joe becomes a household name.
Instantly a nobody is loved and envied, on a pedestal to be judged -
any minor misdemeanour and their celebrity grave is dug.
Consistent success, regular reason for jealous bystanders to scorn
and envious thoughts extend to actions, a punishment for how well you’ve performed.
A thoroughbred national champion, vanishes from the face of the earth:
The owners of a legendary Irish race-horse punished, for the talent they unearthed.
In our post-modern, big-brother society, dominated by CCTV -
a little girl disappears on holiday, while her parents get something to eat.
All this monitoring and scrutinising is supposed to be our safety valve,
but the media attention’s too late and ‘security’ has let us down.
A fuss over a crisis, an image built on lies -
and we wonder why celebrities treat the media with despise.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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Lee Price Poem
I want to create something brilliant,
make my mark,
produce something so spectacular:
It’s in a different ball-park.
But I have no inclination
how to achieve my masterpiece,
so the spawn of my mind
is already deceased.
My words don’t function,
when I have urges to right.
Serious messages to convey,
but my metaphors aren’t write.
I can’t keep to a rhyme scheme,
cos I’m off on a day-dream
and when it comes to structure -
puncture!
‘Ability’ deserts me, strands me with the dull.
I’m just another number to add to poetry’s cull.
Copyright © Lee Price | Year Posted 2007
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