Anastasya Shepherd

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Tag: poetry

  • Travel etiquette

    Standing squashed on the train,
    through persistent migraine
    going down the drain
    with the dregs,

    look around and up,
    squeeze your gaze in the gap
    ‘twixt the arms and the crap
    in the bags.

    Think of people inside
    this elaborate hide
    made to coddle and hide
    their fears:

    some are dressed to impress,
    some are dressed to possess,
    some are dressed to undress,
    it appears.

    As they hang off handrails,
    in the hamster-wheel race,
    do your best to embrace
    their sorrow.

    Don’t be sad, don’t be mad.
    Smile and nod, look ahead.
    They or you could be dead
    by tomorrow.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • London Night

    Drown in the London night.
    In the dark you see the light,
    river beckons, cold and bright.
    Drown in the London night.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • My

    Inspired by The Amazing Randi

    My mind is a forest.
    An impossible cathedral
    with boundless pillars of trunks
    and coloured light spearing through
    the stained glass of the canopy.
    The truth and beauty of it are breath-taking!
    And I walk through life
    looking up at the light
    with dry golden eyes,
    ever so beautiful…
    Until I trip over the roots,
    twisted roots of my forest,
    lies to myself and others,
    grown out of fear,
    and habit,
    and kindness,
    and love.
    And I find myself
    in the deep dark wood,
    staring with dark green eyes
    filled with tears
    at the light ahead.
    My roots,
    my trees,
    my pain,
    my joy.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Stair

    On the stair
    I sit and stare
    at the sea and sky
    and the world pass by
    inside and out –
    bizarre throughout.
    All said and done,
    it’s mostly fun
    on the stair
    leading nowhere.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Footprints in the Sand

    All that we leave are footprints in the sand.
    They fade in time. As everything, they end.
    But as we look ahead and to the stars
    we leave footprints to fade on moon and Mars.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Sad, but true

    Russian, American, English, Egyptian – we are all suckers.
    Christian, Muslim, Jewish or Buddhist – we are all suckers.
    Labour, Conservative, Liberal, Democrat – we are all suckers.
    We’ve sold our humanity for the right to belong.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Primitive divisions sell

    Faceless, but colour-coded:
    blue for boys,
    pink for girls.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Colours Of Thought

    The colours of thought
    deep inside our minds,
    behind the facade –
    black, white and blood-red.
    We can sing the rainbow,
    we can paint the rainbow,
    we can talk the rainbow…
    but they remain
    behind the eyes,
    deep inside the soul,
    the colours of emotion –
    black, white and blood-red.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Malignant metaphors

    Black and white thinking:
    always easy
    often beautiful
    never right.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in
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