The new Write Out Loud Poem of the Week is 'Transient Beauty'  by Adrian Metcalf.  Adrian says he suffers from severe anxiety and composes poetry "to release my emotions"; writing it "helps me sleep most of the time". He has been writing poetry for about 18 months, and his poetry hero is Edgar Allan Poe. He has performed his poetry at just one open mic night so far. His desert island luxury? "Being alone and watching the sunset." Here are his replies to our questions: 

 

What got you into writing poetry?
I have mental illness, specifically severe anxiety. Writing poetry helps me sleep a lot of the time and is a great venting method whenever I'm in deep panic.

 

How long have you been writing poetry?
I have been writing for a little over a year and a half.

 

Do you go to any open mic nights?
No, but I would, just never had the oppportunity. Well, I went to one, and was reading a poem so fast that I couldn't even understand it myself! 

 

Your favourite poet/poem? 
Edgar Allan Poe is definitely my favourite. Although, out of arrogance or ignorance, I haven't delved too far into the poetry stage. I plan to in the future, though, maybe once I'm a little sober and more appreciative of the classics.

 

You're cast away on a desert island ... what's your luxury?
Being alone and watching the sunset is great. Peace is all you need! 

 

 

TRANSIENT BEAUTY

by Adrian Metcalf

Daisies in a meadow's bend,
Water dripping from the pale rocks, 
And the moonlight shining deeply beneath the hallowed earth. 

Do you witness the sky's transient beauty?
Do you see the world's unholy inconsistency?
Or do you perhaps wander ever blinder into the abyss of rock and dirt.

Forget the witnessed lands behind the gravel-topped mountains
The light ricocheting off the wind,
Bleeding beneath rocks laid for centuries. 

You deserve the thing you will you had,
A pebble besides the mountain face, 
Gay in nature. 

Smooth out the crevice of shallow graves,
Dig the world deeper, 
And bury an image of the valley of your dreams. 

The ocean's tide does not wait for a mother to come home.