An interesting, thoughtful and meaningful array of great poetry…
Lost in Quatrain is wonderful collection of poetry that covers a vast range of theme and subject matter from race, culture, political and faith with pretty much everything in between.
Through the many poems; all of which range in length and structure the reader is taken on a journey that resonates the sometimes poignant or meaningful recollections and thoughts of Adiela Akoo. Many of them are short but still carry a powerful message while others are longer, from a few lines all the way to a few pages there is pretty much everything a poem should be in this book.
‘Coupling’ is definitely a poem I could relate to as a creative and of course I have to mention ‘Whiplash’ for it’s unique structure. I found the humour in ‘Drunken Man’ along with a great appreciation for ‘Race with the Wind’ amongst many others
For anyone who is a fan of poetry or has an open mind to it I highly recommend this book.
5 Stars – Disclaimer: I was provided with a free e-copy of this title in exchange for a review, thank you to the author for providing that copy!
Exams aren’t the only way to measure success,
I should know because I’ve faced that stress.
It isn’t about where you are now,
More like what’s next and how.
Find your passion from politics to art,
All that matters is that you start.
So what if you didn’t make the grade,
Over time the bad feelings fade.
What happens next and what to do,
Now that is something which is up to you,
I survived that tale and made it through,
So if I could do it, so can you…
Shout out to those receiving exam results today. No matter the result I always thought it was bullshit to have the apparent weight of the world on your shoulders especially as a mid-teen thinking those results would shape the rest of our lives. As scary as they made it sound, those results didn’t shape my life, everything else that happened afterwards did. Everyone finds their own success in the end…
It feels like the words are stacked against me,
Get this done and maybe I’ll be free,
Right now the ending I cannot see.
Miles of words to go until I can end this show,
Forward is the only way I know how to go,
How I’ll actually get there, not even I know…
We’re better than any star rating. Our stuff is better than any star rating, good or bad. There isn’t a review out there that really reflects the journey a writer has taken to lay down those words. So many that judge simply do not know and most will never know. A book is more than a collection of words. It’s a journey created by an anthology of feelings that person has gone through in life and in mind.
There is no formal teaching for telling a story. One finds that within and their ability is tracked through the works they give to the world. Those words in that time are a moment but the creator is already several moments into the future.
What you discover in the present could be another writers past. They may have already used those words to better themselves and to grow or to learn. Not many will ever understand that; but as I said they just don’t know. And maybe that is the real difference of creator and reader; one has the real appreciation for the process, the journey, the feeling and the want; the desire to get better and move forward constantly.
Our work will be perceived as good today but we want it to get better tomorrow making our work yesterday open for criticism but maybe just important to the person who created it.
Most artists will never face the question of why but more the question of how. Perhaps that’s something which is overlooked when judging work…
Many of us create to beat the blues,
So don’t blame me for the 2 star reviews.
Something I made way back when,
Words I’ve moved on from since then.
Although it may still be a piece of me,
Publishing it set those words free.
A thousand days of thinking it through,
Just to create something for you.
My stuff may never be your cup of tea,
But it’s not for you, it’s for me…
The night worker is paid for their time but the currency is sleep. For every shift they work they are for the night to keep.
The entire world has gone to bed and then there’s us, the night worker’s who keep the place running, our appetite in tatters, our eyes tired and our bodies weary.
Keep the lights dimmed. Let the Coffee, tea and sugar keep our systems running.
Is there another soul out there? Sometimes my eyes play tricks, guess that’s just the fatigue or perhaps something else..
Torchlight down corridors and hallways that lay silent. Did the door behind just open? A vending machine, my beacon of light, don’t swallow my change, I need this, alright.
Time seems to crawl and I’m feeling adrift. I’m just waiting for the light to give me just a little lift. Find any way to pass the eternal time. All of this just for the extra dime.
Early morning sky brings that light, my stomach realises and comes back my appetite.
Soon we’ll go home past the ‘normies’ who work all day. While I’ll be in the dark trying to drift away.
Sensitive to light and tired for days. But I’ve always got plans, always.
I guess I like it but sometimes need to vent, for this truly is the night workers lament.