This Is Me

Blue soaks the softness and tip of my lips, Coldness so near, causing strokes and bad slips, A blushing soft pink crawls through my speckled face, Boldly but shyly, netted through with white lace, Green eyes through blind pupils, blury but alive, Quite tender living skin, as from sleep I am deprived, A pale cream and peach begins to form my chest, A ravishing bright lemon, begins to form my breast. Shrivelled up still dying, outside the clouds have bore, Our secret little grey-head, who is becoming timely poor. And beside my hand I see a dream, a bush of wooly balls, Whose tiny siren screeches, are soundless scattered calls. And as I sit and wonder, my self portrait by my hand, My sea-view so very lively, digging up the gritted sand, Is this mind a timeline, a view of all things good? A mind of only starlight, a fire burning wood? Or is this artwork beauty, of one should not exsist? And should this be the case, I hold life in my fist. Boneata Bell 01.12 30/01/2011

'Houses separate us Streets corner us Paths guide us Love forces us.' - Boneata Bell

She Not Me Baby fingers clutch his palm. Whilst he protects her from ANY harm. Indeed she is speachless, as any baby be, Loving the faces he is pulling at 'She'. Baby eyes stare blankly at him, His body is bold, although it is slim. At such a distance he's too near to say godbye. She's pushing out thoughts of where his body may lie. Baby bones and soft baby cheeks, Searching the father, that she LONGS to seek. He lives through her heart and forever will be. The daddy she always wanted him to be. I love you.

The sound of an engine punctures my thoughts Freedom in a capsule To be untold And to cross any barrier with no restricting hold. 　 To fly free and leave a lingering sound. Never to be found, Unless wanting to be found, To see not to speak Through the journey to frown, In the speed of sound. 　 To listen in the morning of roaring freedom, To lay asleep awake but dreaming, Of knowing their intentions, Of soaring through the night. With no fight. Or no question. 　 To get up and crawl to the road which they travel, To see each moon with a different scene unravel, The secrets of life when no sound stirs the houses, Laying in wonder I long to see, This side of life But not only in dream. 　 I hope to travel. One day by night. To see the darkness passing you by. To know someone is listening with an interested eye. To travel by night. To see what they see. When the town looses sight. Of the dreams lived by night. Boneata Bell

The first job of today was to copyright my poems so that I can now publish it on here, my next job was to promote this publishing on Twitter so that more of you come and check it out! Some would say there are only so many words you can write. I disagree. Enjoy!

Sam  (This poem has been published by the Grimsby Telegraph) Nothing would take away my breath, But a beautiful hero so close to death, He made me wish that I were God, To save this dying, faithful dog, Although he'd never see my face, He plodded around with a friendly pace, Although he'd never hear our love, He would hold onto the stars above, His fur is so soft, golden brown and white, He will try to live with his entire mite, He made me believe this wasn't the end, That every angel, he would befriend, But when his kisses reach their last, He'll remain our future, not just our past, He is a fighter with the angel's he'll fly, Because he is special to us he'll never die.   This is a poem I wrote about a dog owned by Elaine Drury at the local hedgehog sanctuary. I went their after finding a poorly hedgehog and when I met Sam he was absolutely beautiful he was death and blind too, he was a real inspiration. Boneata Bell

Yesterday I received a reply from 'Poems in the Waiting Room', they told me that my poems did not meet their guidelines as they have to be sensitive to their readers. Fair enough but I am not going to give up yet, most published authors and writers have so many knock backs that it is not time to give up yet! I didn't have a chance to blog yesterday, today I am at college and have some free time. I am going to eventually publish both of my poems onto here that I sent to the NHS Charity to share with you as soon as I have had them copyrighted. The two poems are 'Traveling by Night' and 'Blindly in my House of Bravery'. I am also going to put on here my poem 'Sam' that has previously been published in the Grimsby Telegraph. I hope you enjoy them.

I feel very good. Today, or tonight you could say as it is now Thursday, somebody has told me that I have inspired them. I feel so proud to have been able to bring back the passion into somebody else's life, somebody that had stopped writing has now begun to write again. This is what I want to do. I want to show people that they should continue with their passion, I want to make a difference, I have been on Twitter for two days and I have already inspired somebody to write again. I feel very rewarded. This morning I also sent off three poems to an NHS charity that runs 'Poems in the Waiting Room', I sent one poem that has been published by the Grimsby Telegraph and two that have not in the hope that in some way they can use them to help raise money for such a good charity. The poem that has been published that I sent off was 'Sam'.

If there was one thing on my mind. I'd wish away my dreams I'd wish away my life, I'd take away the time. To watch each memory steel Away my mind. If they ran away from me, I'd fall a million miles, The skulls would craft upon my skin, and on my heart would cast a sin. To again recieve it's caring smiles. As darkness called upon my head, I'd take another breath, And crawl black footprints, Along my bed. And ask again to be freed from death. I'd laugh as weapons, Lined my walls, Weep and smile, To a natural cause. To stare at death without a thought, Cast a frightening longing, Desperate to be saught They smiled in the eyes of death. Boneata Bell 21:53 26/01/2011

I do not have anything extreemly interesting to write about today unfortunatly as it has been my day off college and I used it to visit local family members, however I am working on adding one of my grandmother's poems onto the Facebook page I have created for her as Valentines day is coming up and that is the base of my grandmother's poem, so look out for that! I have today added another poem onto my Facebook page under the title of 'Changing of The World' unfortunatly I have not yet recieved any feedback. I sent as a message my poem under the title of 'A Story of Determination' to approximatly ten Facebook contacts and I am hoping to also recieve feedback from that. I have also had the idea that, with enough support, I will publish one poem, everyday, for one month from the beginning of March, if I get enough fans, feedback and support, I have chosen to do this in the hope that people will begin to hear about me and what I want to do.

It is technically Wednesday morning now, however time is ticking on and I am still online typing up my poems on sites such as Tumblr, Facebook and Twitter. I have been quite satisfied to have been questioned on my poetry writing, or you could even say 'grilled' as one of my fans asked me every question they could probably think of, I found this experience very fun and rewarding as the come back I have recieved from my poetry recently as been quite minimal, so I would like to say a big thank you to one of my Twitter fans for all of their support, you have helped to give me a boost in confidence. This evening I found a poem I origionally wrote when I was 14, at the time I did not believe it could be improved, but one of the main lessons I have learnt is usually always you will go back to the first draft and be very thankfull you did not let it enter the public domain. So tonight I re-drafted one of my poems 'Timeline of blame' this is a poem about rape so as a warning...

So basically I decided today, with given reason, that it would be a good idea to start my own blog, so here I am. However, I am not sure how to begin so I am just going to begin with the beginning, what my blog will be about and where it all started. So as you may have read in my profile my dream is to be a professional poet, I would love to be paid for doing what I love most of all, which is obviously writing. I began writing when I was only eight, It may be younger but that is the oldest surviving pieces of my work so I am going to assume the age of eight was when my love of poetry really began to take off. I won my first competition in year seven of my school years, making me the age of 11, I remember how shocked I was when I won a WHSmith voucher holding the value of £5.00 and my poem was published in a little yellow school paperback book! That must have been about the time when I began to feel the inspiration and began to send my poetry elsewhere... I think it must have ...