Time Travelling

I am stuck.

The fabric of time has wound itself around me
I stepped in, mesmerized by the colours
And now

I am stuck.

Taped to this tapestry
Sewn-in which are tales of my history
Of what little is left in memory

I am stuck.

On a day of the past
Sitting in front of a little television
Now things get a little fast;

The television shows
With all the blows
The Contra game
Mario jumping into his fame
My father
My mother
My family
On the carpet giggling
Cutting pictures together laughing
The trees
The Bees
That bit me too often, alright
The colours are bright
As we paint a pot
The winds outside carry shades of hues
Painting the world, a colour other than the blues
My room with fairy-lights strewn
Glowing stars on the roof
Board games
Bored games
Everything

And stop.

I am stuck.

Like a cassette stuck on the same song
Nostalgia;
That has lasted too long

I am stuck.

The winds just carry blues and greys
These days
Time is now just a blurry haze
Passing, as I sit and gaze

I am stuck.

‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’

A dark brown almost black desk,
Over a decade old,
Sat in my room

Serving as everything 

My little brain could imagine at nine;

A spaceship rocketing through galaxies
A tower with a balcony

A little shop where my sister and I sold 'Magic Water'

A stage for performances

A carriage drawn by horses.

A dark brown almost black desk,
Over two decades old,

Sits in my room

Decorated with trinkets

Pieces of my personality

My colourful potted plants
Too many candles

Letters
Feathers

Books

Pictures

Pebbles.

I sit here, fabricating tales
Of sorrow and joy,

Creating worlds far and beyond

Stitching feelings together;

Calling them Poetry

Dreaming of dragons and stardust

Flying through the clouds almost like a Raven

So when The Mad Hatter asks
‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’

Looking right into my eyes

With his glassy dazed gaze,

I whisper,

'Because it can be anything.'

Of What Was And What Is

Loss is like taking off a ring you've worn for a long time

Your finger still feels the weight of the gold band which isn't there

Your hand still goes towards it to twist it around the finger in nervousness

You look at your middle finger again and again seeing the lighter part of your skin, the only trace of the ring that is left

It leaves you disoriented,

To not have something which you clearly feel is right there

Loss is like visiting your favourite restaurant's shut down building

You're overwhelmed with memories

You remember every table full of chatter

You remember the wooden doors that opened to another world

The familiar scent, the lights, the decor
Warm, lively and alive
And you smile from the feeling

But nothing is there

Here lies a barren building
Cold, lifeless and dead
With only memories haunting the rooms 

Like the ghost of what was and now what is

Taking your smile away and replacing it with shudders

The building is still right down the street
( The room is right down the hallway )

If you listen closely you can hear the chatter
( If you listen closely you can hear him calling)

The windows are intact, giving you an insight into the past
( The pictures in the frames are intact, giving you an insight into the past )

But nothing is there

Here lies a barren building
Cold, lifeless and dead
With only memories haunting the rooms