Collection of poetry

Villanelle

Through a scratched looking glass I gaze

Through a scratched looking glass I gaze
Watching the race go on and on with a jealous eye
And always my mind darts through a maze

Losing all opportunities to the haze
Lifting all shame I cannot deny
Through a scratched looking glass I gaze

With every foolish question I raise
Hackles on my neck do lift and wonder why
And always my mind darts through a maze

Seeming to catch each moment within my daze
Its meaning tries to force on me some clear lie, yet
Through a scratched looking glass I gaze

At last folly is no longer one of my ways
Gropingly I find my purpose so I will not die
And always my mind darts through a maze

Each revelation is deadly, yet it does not faze
For my soul has now accepted, said its goodbyes
Through a scratched looking glass I gaze
And always my mind darts through a maze



Jordan Sharpe

















Free Verse
Consuming Circumstance

Laughingly I pursue it
The promise of something so consuming
Light pushes through my mind
Bringing an undeniable ecstasy
I know its there, delightedly I start after it
It is slippery, fiendishly it evades me

Finally it allows itself to be caught
Clearly giving up on purpose
Some hidden agent is plotting
Smiling to itself it knows smugly what I do not
Oh yes I bring pleasure it whispers
But accompanying that is also misery

Pain along with contentment
I should have known this

It’s a consuming circumstance I find myself in
Once again I have blundered this way and
Misery is a bonus to life



Jordan Sharpe











Ode

Ode to scent

You ride across the wind
Giving it flavour and taste
Inviting all to guess your birth
Gently or strongly you come
Bringing a feast or a revulsion

You are the ultimate paradox
Being both fair and foul
At once travelling
With powerful force
Or whispering subtlety

Ah scent! Relaxation and Rest
You bring on every gust
Every swirl of air is a promise
To my soul
I grasp you, begging you to stay longer

So gross and unfriendly you can be
A ghastly pall that can descend on any day
I mourn for my sense of smell
For it was almost burned out
Devilish scent! A pox on ye!

Ahh but here you come again
Sneaking in with a bright flavour
To tempt and placate
My reeling senses
Are in eternal euphoria

Soft laughter tickles my ears
Impishly you dart to and fro
Slowly you reveal your intent
To see me finished with you and to say
Scent is on its merry way


Jordan Sharpe







Sonnet

Halls

The bell is rung, the line again resumes
As I proceed throughout the halls distraught
The reek and nasty smell controls the room
Avoiding these gross blank tiles is all for not

Around each corner glaring is received
Shoulders are rubbing into mine I hate
The school is as hostile as I believed
The boys stare down potential mates
During the wintertime the halls are wet
The floor is soaked and no dry spot is found
So many people I’ve never seen
I am so glad I’ve not kissed ground
Soon I shall never return to these halls
And I must say I am not upset at all


Jordan Sharpe





















Dramatic Monologue

Dark and dreary have my night wanderings been
Always the same, the same vision and words
They form a litany as soon as I surrender
I ponder this
As my legs draw me from normal routine
Towards the stony gate
Its eight letter long word engraved at the top
Does send chills along the track of my spine
Still I continuously stroll into that foreboding place
Like an old hound to its master
I come
Pausing I consider what I see in front of me
Possibilities roll on the hills of my mind
None realistic at all
Gentle buffeting from the wind
Reminds me where I am
Suddenly with a vicious clarity
The words from last night’s journey
Garner attention and make themselves known
I see the same message before me
Scripted on a gravestone
The entire weight of the world is a wisp of smoke
When I view that unholy message