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Poetry




Walking In Tides by A J Magy A sub-conscious night in the life... [156 words]
Fear, A Collection
Stars And Stripes - Forever? by Rachel Elaine Reeves The United States flag has long been a symbol of freedom. But over the years it h... [95 words]
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A Day In The Life Of A Clouded Mind by Shaiyna This poem reminds me of a time in my life where I was afraid that something... [55 words]
A Moment by Alex Mathew Reflective Poem. [38 words]
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I Owe You Mom by Catrina J Lerner This is a poem about the unconditional love of a mother. [200 words]
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Realizing the Release by Louise Garrett Short poem, somewhat representing what it's like to realize a relationship isn't going to... [51 words]
The Epitome of Loving and Hating by A C Christine Raw emotions of a hurt young women. She is trying to get across to her best ma... [493 words]
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Sarah, A Collection
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The Wedding Bell
Ship's Journey
Lust
Sea of Pain
Miracles Before Me
Wonder
Across Burnt Bridges
Summer
RaShawn
Future's Margherita
Ghost Sonnets
My Mother, My Word
Angel Poems for Healing
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The Ray of Ecstasy
A Letter to My Father
Weekend Visitation
Catastrophe
Leaving
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The Meaning of a Rose
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TITLE (EDIT)
Fear, A Collection
DESCRIPTION
Fear - This poem explores the domination of the male ego over its female counterpart.
Granite - It is a poem about being treated as a stranger in a country you want to call home.
Fat Bastard - This poem is a personal journey of life with a weight problem.
[392 words]
AUTHOR
Alan T Geake
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I live in Scotland with my family and work as a freelance writer.

I have written poetry since I was a child but have never seriously attempted publications because of the personal nature of poetry and my tendency at times to inhibit the exploration of human expression.

This is gradually changing as I let myself be open to the potential of this expression.

[September 2002]
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
[email protected]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1)
Burn Out (Poetry) This was written after hearing about a rock singer's suicide. [88 words]
Fear, A Collection
Alan T Geake

    Of the arid throat,
    Pulsating with deciduous
    Anticipation,
    Traversing left then right
    Until it is forced
    Into the corner of submission.
    
    Feel yourself fall to the pressure
    Of his immense hands
    Controlling your stoical
    Movements,
    With the force of his glare
    Just as it was
    In the very beginning
    
    Kick out with desperate force
    Only to see him laugh
    As your fists bounce
    Elastically
    Without effect, forcing
    You further
    Toward the narrow light
    
    Shake with the last passage
    Of life, before he leaves
    You gasping for every
    Breath
    And as he turns away
    You wonder
    What is preventing you
    
    Fear with its rigid domains
    Interns your coming
    And going. Without
    Remorse
    It deals every hand
    Unless you
    Kill the bastard
    

 

Granite

For eight years
    This town remained
    My fortress
    These years
    Like death
    Have passed on
    Inevitably
    Unlike life
    They refrain from movement
    
    The faces of
    This town are etched
    From granite
    Shaped like
    Keyholes locked
    From the inside
    Rusted
    In decay
    They remain impenetrable
    
    If I shared
    Your dialect
    Would you
    Open up or
    As I suspect
    Is the key
    Lost forever
    Beneath the rubble
    Of crumbled ideals
    
    This town
    Remains my fortress
    Though one day
    I will leave
    Only to discover
    Despite
    My intentions
    I never
    Even existed.

 

 

Fat Bastard

He sings in the shower
    Where others cannot hear
    Or see the plethora of unmasked
    Flesh
    
    They laugh as though his brain
    Sits cushioned in silence
    Without the sense to interpret
    Abuse
    
    He shouts to the masses
    Fat bastard I may be
    But shallow infusions offer no
    Cure
    
    They tunnel their feelings
    Towards his obesity
    As if hiding the emptiness of their own
    Existence
    
    He contemplates suicide
    Without wanting to die
    Only to be removed from this body of
    Guilt
    
    They with their sleek legs
    And tight arses laugh
    As if he cannot enjoy the right to be
    Hungry
    
    He realises subtly
    There is a fat bastard
    In all of us, even without the
    Recognition
    
    They, inactively bored
    From the mindless crow
    Move on to seek pleasure from other
    Victims
    
    While, the fat bastard
    Crawls to his feet
    Brushes himself and prepares for the
    Feast

 

READER'S REVIEWS (3)
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"Very poignant ... you paint a vivid portrait of loneliness and despair .. hope to see more from you" -- Judith Goff, USA.
"I enjoy how you shed light on the complexities of fear in human behavior. more please." -- Eric Hofmann.
"congrats! your poems personifies the things we usually take for granted. Maybe a little consciousness in putting the "necessary" punctuation marks will add 10% more in your score to make it 110%. WRTE MORE!!!" -- coby, tuguegarao city, philippines, cagayan.

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 1999 Alan T Geake
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
September 2002
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1823
 

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