Being Eimear.

Laughter cannot be contained.

Writing passionately, unrestrained.

Probably paint and coffee stained.

Bundles of sheets scribbled upon with pure devotion.

A brain filled with ideas, worries and commotion.

Hearing people with empathy and emotion.

Lost in a books pages with intense concentration.

A tendency for messiness and procrastination.

Distracted easily, encapsulated by rumination.

When I feel lost, nature helps me survive.

I stumble through darkness and yet I thrive.

I am human and fallible, but I am alive.

I hold those I love with the deepest affection.

I sometimes build walls for a sense of protection.

Quiet time is needed for gratitude and reflection.

Open and honest about how I feel.

Accepting parts of me I have tried to conceal.

Learning to love being me and starting to heal.

Poetry. Words.

Calm in the storm.

The wind howls.

Growling, tugging unsuspecting hairs to and fro.

Bashing, pushing, and shrieking.

The rain pours in torrents, merciless, wreaking havoc.

Empowered, bold, loud.

Free in the noise, I run.

I squeal. No one else is crazy enough to be out in this weather. No one else would dare be struck by lightning.

Only to feel the rain caress their face. Only to feel the damp chill of their clothes sticking to their skin. Shivering.

Laughs stolen by each current of air. Leaping through puddles. Splashing, Meddling, Dirtying shoes.

Headlights obscured by sheets of rain. Warm glowing light. Shades of grey and misty darkness.

Bellowing. Drumming. Rattling.

Pulses of dazzling lightning. Emerging momentarily. Spectacularly bold. Presumptuous. Magniloquent.

Playfulness set free. Boundaryless.

Peace in chaos.

Silence in pandemonium.

Poetry. Thoughts



Why do you say you own me when I cannot be confined?

Why do you describe me when I cannot be defined?

Why do you demand from me a journey that is not yours to live?

Why do you command from me things I cannot give?

Why do you disown me and condemn how I unfold?

Why do you cling to what is not yours to hold?


The Ominous Clock

I cannot be measured, I cannot be disposed,

I keep all things orderly and composed.

My hands move as each event unravels,

I dictate where life travels.

Worshiped by all of human kind,

I control your wandering mind.

Presence is a concept for the fortunate few,

Without me what would you do?

Worthless and hated you would shrivel away,

And that my dear friend is why I must stay.

Without you I would dance in the suns radiant beams,

Without you I would fulfil my wildest dreams.

Time would crumble and fears would shatter,

All would be, and what is would matter.

Smiles would crease upon worn faces,

Warmth would be felt in tender embraces.

Life would just happen without hesitation,

No need for fear, anger or frustration.

Wrinkled hands, tired eyes.

A chuckle escapes me as I realise.

Time never existed, only in my mind,

Life just happens and is left behind.

Worry is futile and regret is pain,

And worshiping time has made me insane.