Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.


Gaunt the corridors of my mind,
their darkened passages dim lit by torches,
tongs of youth from fiery embers brandished
in my brain, to waken thoughts
that frightened with their pain.

Such memories of walking in the night,
hurriedly along the hedges, over streets,
when rain came lashing down
and thunder clapped the sky,
as if some danger stood close by.

Awaiting my return to the abandoned park,
where some were murdered only just last year,
the fear would grasp me in its chains,
that clank the locks of common sense right shut,
like handcuffs mesmerised I stood, or ran.

My hair all wild, my satchel swinging frantically,
my eyes alert for every stirring sound,
especially the ones that came out from behind,
or over the stone walls
that circle round the football ground.

The trees, their messages would toss,
across the space so full of eerie clouds,
all nature turned into a late black drama, and mother said:
"no, never take a cigarette from any stranger."
But here was nobody to see,
as hurrying home through places sombre,
all to be seen was little me.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Last few words: 
In Leicester in my teens. Ann.
Editing stage: 


Your childhood described and brought fear of being alone int that park. Lovely write

Thank you fFrenchf I also liked the Oh gosh! As I said it here in Norway at the kindergarten, then was surprised to hear the little children using it, it being, perhaps an old word, or not?? I don't live in England? But children pick up all don't they? :)

Yes i remember those times, specially when I knew someone had been murdered there! Brrrrrrrr!

love to you from Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

author comment
(c) No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.