Today I’ve been a little stuck finding something to write about.

Normally topics flow into my mind as a reflection of the current goings on in my life and those around me.

Recently my life has been considerably blurry, not in the sense that I’ve been drunk half the time, more in that a lot has changed/is changing and I’m yet to have a moment to lie back and reflect.

However, this afternoon I suddenly remembered that today is National Poetry Day so I thought why not share a short poem of mine with you, as well as sharing a few rambling thoughts.

Some may see poetry as a dying art, something reserved for Dickensian eccentrics prancing around violet meadows, which I cant deny conjures a pretty good image.

However, poetry in its many forms is a poignant as ever.

From lyricists whose songs scream poetry in their stunning imagery and structure such as Lana Del Rey and Florence Welch to those oh so beautifully displayed quotes and limericks we see plastered all over pinterest.

Poetry is a language spoken in many tongues and which stretches across the globe. Its inked onto bodies, and weaved into tapestries. Its cracking if you ask me.

I’ve included in this post a very small, unfinished poem I have written entitled ‘Born Holding Aces’. Hopefully it will incite some thinking about the nature of circumstance and ‘luck’ as well as the notion and importance of acting a citizen of the world, rather than just of a nation.

Born Holding Aces

When did happiness become a right,
Dished out in bias.
Lottery tickets for shelter,
Food, opportunity.

Being born lucky is no excuse,
To turn a blind eye.
Distracting yourself with capital,
The guilt will devour you.

“The world isn’t fair” they leer,
Full of empty excuses.
Lacking human compassion,
Empathy stretching as far as fictional lines on a map.