Tag Archives: People

If I Couldn’t See, I Should Miss (Reprise)

I’ve been rather remiss in posting new material, even though I have been penning some.  Probably because I tend to write new things on a Monday night during the music/poetry session I attend, and have forgotten about it by the weekend.  Sorry.  I will try to do better.

Some years ago at school, we had a week where we were learning about deafness and blindness and what it is like to have to live with that.  The assignment at the end of the week was to write a poem either titled ‘If I Couldn’t See I Should Miss’ or ‘If I Couldn’t Hear I Should Miss’.  I still have the poem I wrote for it, and posted it just over a year ago.  If you want to re-read it, it’s here.

For some time I’ve been toying with the idea of revisiting the assignment, and writing a revised version.  After all, I’m not the same person now that I was 18 years ago.  I tried to reflect the layout of my original piece, but I think there’s a bit more structure this time around.  So here’s the 2013 edition.  Please let me know what you think in the comments below, on Facebook, Twitter or by dropping me an e-mail.

 

If I Couldn’t See, I Should Miss (Reprise)
If I couldn’t see, I should miss:
Watching skylarks dance as they sing,
Though I could still hear their music,
And would never have to see another tear.
 
I should miss:
Watching meteor showers on a starry night,
Though I might gain the ears to hear them,
And clouds would never thwart me.
 
I should miss:
Watching joyful faces so animated,
Though I’d not see the scowls,
And never have to see pain.
 
I should miss:
The freedom of driving my car,
To watch the waves on the shore.
15/07/2013

 

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Death Watch

I wrote this one during the time we sat with my aunt as she was losing her battle with cancer.    The Poets United Verse First prompt gave me the push to share it, the other poems from the prompt can be read here: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/verse-first-poetry-heals.html

 

Death Watch
We are the death watch,
Gathered, sitting, waiting.
 Nothing more can be done,
Simply anticipating.
 
Try to ease her discomforts,
And medicate away the pain.
Interpreting each moan and twitch,
Our efforts feel in vain.
 
They say that hearing is the last to go,
So we keep talking.
To soothe the anguish of drug-induced dreams,
Through which her mind is walking.
 
We are her death watchers,
Trapped in emotional limbo.
Waiting for her final breath,
Feeling guilty for wishing so.
 
Ever closer draws the hour,
At which anguish will cease.
When her long sleep arrives,
And she lies in peace.
03/03/2012

 

 

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An Outcast’s Plea

So this month has ended slightly better than it began, with a dose of stress-induced tonsillitis (which has led to me learning how to spell tonsillitis, was always forgetting that second l).  At least it’s almost gone.  So I’ve raiding the old archive to find something new to share with you tonight, and came across something I wrote whilst I was in 6th Form (that’s the two years after the end of secondary school in the UK).  I wasn’t exactly popular at school for various reasons, some of which I brought on my own head, some were down to the usual social politics in schools.  So that’s a bit of background for this one, it was based off of things that people had said to me around the time of writing too.

Please let me know what you think in the comments, so far today I’ve had 50 spam bot pots, would be nice to hear from real people too!

 

An Outcast’s Plea
They all hate me,
I know they do,
Though hide it they may try.
 
A careless whisper,
An unchecked glance,
The way they walk on by.
 
I try to fit in,
To be like them,
Another mindless clone.
 
But that’s not me,
My mind rebels,
And I’m left in here alone.
 
Deal me in,
Accept me for who I am.
Don’t compare me to society’s norm,
For what’s normal anyway?
08/03/2004

 

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Nothing’s Going to Stop Us

I’ve not dared look how long it has been since I posted something new here.  Partly because that is also how long I’ve had writers block for, in spite of my best efforts to break it, partly because I know it has been far too long (and a friend told me off).

 

Recently two of my friends, Tom and Welsh Dave joined me in a trip to our usual stomping grounds for a walk following a bit of snow.  In light of the fact that other friends who lived nearer to there assured us that the roads were clear and it would be fine…let us just say it was slightly more challenging than usual.  But we didn’t give up!  No challenge that we faced beat us.  Choosing to skip one of our diversions on the ground that it would be too dangerous doesn’t count as a failure as we’d agreed in advance that we’d skip that part.  In advance being once we got to the car park… This poem was finally set to paper at the open mic night I attended, mostly because the other poet present had forgotten all of their work and so was writing something new and I felt that it was only fitting I do something new too.

 

Anyway, enjoy and I shall try my best to keep the scribblings coming!

 

Nothing’s Going to Stop Us
Nothing’s going to stop us,
We’ve made it here through floods and slush,
Though the car had to be pushed in to place.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
The (almost) mountain we must ascend,
Along paths buried in snow and molehills.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
Not even my shoe splitting after a mile,
Just bandage it up and press ever on.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
Though we may skip some extras,
Leave the track up the valley wall undisturbed.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
Even when the river replaces the path,
We’ll just find a way around or through.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
But the lack of tea gave us pause,
The tearooms are shuttered already.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
Now we must face it all again,
To return down the vale to our homes.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
The path has vanished ‘neath the floods,
And the mountain stands beside it.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
A sheer rock face we’ll traverse,
Clinging to the mud, roots and grass.
 
Nothing’s going to stop us,
Even a slip in to snow melt,
Pressing on towards our goal.
 
Nothing at all stopped us,
Floods, snow, mud, slush or downpours,
We made it all the way.
28/01/2013

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The Day I Crashed the Quad

I’m back, with an extra long poem to make up for my appalling lack of updates.  So I finished the last two verses of this one off between sharing my first poem, and then sharing this one at the brilliant open mic I go to on a Monday night.  If you’re ever in Abingdon, the Old Anchor Inn features some very talented and enthusiastic musicians from about 8.30pm.  There are two very different poets present most weeks as well.

 

This is a true story, and made a few people laugh when I shared it on Monday.  Enjoy!

 

The Day I Crashed the Quad
New friends at the bottom of the garden,
A lucky lass had her own wee quad bike.
Riding around with her dad as we chatted,
I was offered a go if I’d like.
 
A quick lesson before I set off,
Having never been on one before.
We learned I wasn’t too bad,
Circling the paddock with two wheels off the floor.
 
After a few minutes I stopped,
Let the owner play with her toy.
Power restricted, dad with killswitch remote,
‘Round the paddock she rode with joy.
 
My turn again but full powered,
Killswitch still in my friend’s hand.
With no restrictions I went a bit faster,
And was off the route that I’d planned.
 
Ahead of me a tree I saw,
And tried to ride around.
I pulled it off but dead ahead,
In my way a car I found.
 
Upon two wheels I pulled it wide,
And missed it by a hair.
Only to find on my new course,
A giant buddleia was there.
 
No time to slow or change my course,
In to it’s branches I crashed.
We parted ways the quad and I,
I flew backwards and to earth I smashed.
 
Expecting a hospital visit at least,
My friend to check up on me hurried.
But I was up, scratched and shaken,
So they really needn’t have worried.
 
The quad had flipped three whole times,
And I felt terrible for what I had done.
But just a light cover had come off,
Which did relieve my guilt some.
 
Satisfied I was still intact,
They offered me some whiskey.
But they only had some Kenyan,
So I opted for a mug of tea.
 
For all that I’d cut her play short,
The young owner’s awe she did confide.
“Did you see she didn’t cry Daddy?
If I’d fallen like that I’d have cried!”
05/11/2012

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