Broken Picture Frames (A Poem)

The few people who have read this poem have all given me the same face. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve been misunderstood, or that someone just doesn’t get what you’re saying, you know the face I’m talking about.

I can understand how this poem my seem like it’s a puzzle, or just a show of words, because the lines don’t represent an ‘average’, ‘everyday’ statement. Maybe some people just don’t understand that there is a lot more to poetry than just words. It’s also about the emotion behind the words. I find that a poem can be read in many ways. You can take all of the words for face value, but is that really the whole picture? I don’t feel that it is.

Then again, what do I know. I guess that all of you will just have to decide for yourself what you think of this poem.

Not that I care. ;)


Broken Picture Frames

A Poem by William Louison


Broken picture frames and unending wires

Torn and frayed again in tinsel fires


Ripped up in fear are my seams

Standing here in unhealthy dreams


Jagged cut outs of my scrapbook

Faded half-pictures not worth a look


Comfortable sadness ready to yearn

Scratchy happiness reluctant to learn


Rapture in ribbons lost in reverence

Breathing forgiven found in vigilance


Reaching for healing and all the hate

Protest the dealing nullifying late


Infections can be black and white

Dallying in the gullies of night


Billowy essence fooled for

Dungeon ready forever more


Thanks for reading!

Till Next,


Categories: Life, Poetry, Writing | 6 Comments

Dead Of Night (A Poem)

This is a fitting poem to post as it is currently the dead of night. I wrote it on a night much like tonight, at a time very close to the time right now.

There’s nothing better than sitting up WAY too late and being bogged down by a slow mind, heavy thoughts and far too much over thinking. I assume many of you can relate in some way to this? I hope you can, at least. That would be pretty sucky if none of you could.

But I’m just sayin’.


Dead Of Night

A Poem by William Louison


(Source: http://scoolyswaxpoems.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/night.jpg)


These are deep thoughts

That fill my mind

All I’ve got

In the dead of night


What a tangled mess

Of love and pain

Filling my head

Forever again


Haunting conversations

With myself

Me and I and

Nobody else


Learning more than

I thought I knew

Waiting waiting waiting

Waiting for you


(Source: http://flytimetv.com/uploads/Love_is_pain_by_screamst.jpg)


Thank you so very much for reading!

If you are indeed reading this during the dead of night as well, I hope that you enjoyed it even more.

Till Next,


Categories: Life, Poetry, Writing | Leave a comment

Here I Sit (A Poem)

I think that this is possibly one of the saddest poems I’ve ever written. It is not a blatant expression of aching and loneliness, but it has a more subtle approach. And I know that there is a bit of anger in there, but I remember feeling despondent when I wrote it. I know we can all feel this way sometimes, but this particular poem makes me extremely pensive and self-reflective. I don’t know if it’s the simple arrangement of these specific words or the emotion behind each phrase but, without a doubt in my mind, while I consider this to be one of my saddest poems, I also recognize it as one of my favourites.

Here I Sit

A Poem by William Louison


(Source: http://www.abqartists.com/stephen-barnes/images/sadness.jpg)


Here I sit

As time passes me

A candle lit



This journal’s like a screen

This pen a waterfall

This paper won’t believe

This hand is too dull


Time to close the journal

Try something else

That won’t prosecute my soul

Or get me feeling sorry for myself


Forget about today

Forget about before

Forget about yesterday

Forget about tomorrow


Relish in my mind

Dive in the memories

Liking what I find

Forever stay with me


Friendly faces

Calling my name

Inviting places

Doing the same


But I can’t touch it

I can’t reach out and feel

Because here I sit

And that’s all that’s real


Faded photographs

Distorted pictures

Broken maps

And twisted figures


Here I sit

Never the same

Forgetting these thoughts

Not even sure of my name


Forget these fragments

Forget these times

Forget these friendships

No longer mine


Here I sit

Baited breaths

Keeping me

From losing it


The chance is gone

The future is over

My past is forgotten

Now I’m not sure


Why I stay

Rapture in sitting

Forever this way

Doing my bidding


Yet here I sit

As time creeps by

The candle’s unlit

And I’m too frayed to cry


Thanks for reading!

Till Next,


Categories: Growing Up, Life, Poetry, Writing | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Frail (A Poem)


A Poem by William Louison


I need more than this

A lot more than ever

I can’t live like this

I’m going crazy inside

Confused by bliss

Why does it have to be this way

I can’t change how I feel

But I can try and hide it again


I have been blinded

My eyes won’t take anymore

I can’t believe what they see

Terrible discord


I try to yearn

Stretch out my dreams

But this earth has to turn

And leave me behind

And who am I

To argue any different

I’m just another guy

There’s nothing special here


I have been made deaf

My ears don’t care to listen

I can’t believe what they hear

Now I don’t hear anything at all


I need more than this

A lot more than ever

I can’t live like this

I’m going crazy inside

Thanks for reading!

There will be something happier later today!

Till then,


Categories: Poetry, Writing | Leave a comment

Forever (A Poem)


A Poem by William Louison


(Source: http://www.artifacting.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Rain-Room.jpg)


Forever is such a long word to say

But it can end so soon

I have no confidence in forever

Because it always lets me down

This money won’t last forever

This gas tank won’t be full forever

I won’t have my youth forever

So forgive me if I’m a little shocked

When you start talking about forever

Because you might be too naive

Or ignorant to what’s out there

When you start talking about forever

As in us forever together

There are facts we have to face

There are statistics out to get us

But worst off all hurdles

Is the plague of self-doubt

Because when you start to talk about forever

All I can think about

Is how short forever can really be


Thanks for reading!

Till next,


Categories: Growing Up, Life, Poetry, Writing | 3 Comments

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