Dark twisted loam
Lay in ribbons
Upon the landscape
River clogging
It choked
the plane
Drenched in the bones
Of those who had made it
Toxic leachate
Spumes forth
Nothing but their corroded skin
Killing the life
Already obliterated from within
The imprint of the pillow
Ribbons pressed into skin
Silken mind the smooth warmth of awareness
A pressure calling you to the cold
Gnawing grumble
The hunger for the day
Mary a little girl who likes to be called
The Berry
Thinks she’s a canary and sings both night and day
She churps to the sun
and then to the moon
Hoping the others will wake real soon
She has a story she’d like to tell
About adventures and magic spells
Of the castle that is the House of play pen
And how she learnt how to count to ten
Maybe with a missing number it’s true
But she knows it starts with one and then theres…
ooo
Mary The Berry can sing real loud
Conjuring up rainbow clouds
Her sister stirs in her sleep
But bearly opens an eye to peep
She wont get up and play
Not until it’s day light anyway
So until the time is such
Mary will sing and chatter and tell so much
To the cuddle friends that live in her cot
There are lots and lots and lots
And they will listen happily for hours
About how she rescued them all using glittery super powers
Today I failed
Failed to help where I saw need
The old man
The homeless man
Who needed my good deed
It was not that I lacked compassion
Or that I did not see
I wanted to help
But a social barrier
Formed a bar
If I offered him the food
Food I could not eat
For guilt of him
For we all have enough sin
And was not plight
the insult
And assumption
Maybe shouting
Fear of being called unkind
It has happened before
And I am not brace
Not today
Shy to a pain
But today I failed to be me
Today I let societal norms
consume my nature
And for fear of offending someone not in need
I passed on by someone who could have been in need
It has finally happened
I failed to survive
Middle class values
Have me zombiefied
The dark pallative curve of pain
Draws you in
Featal geo matricks
Hoping to hear that heart beat
Once, twice a pause
Praying
And sigh as it shivers
Unsteadily on
The forever fish flying through the sky
Dreaming of a kinder time
When no harpoon rent the air
When no hunter would set the snare
In the Pondering Trees of Zen
And the eternaty squirrels played away the days
In blissed out security
This was the universe before people
Before the thought
And the evil that lurked
in the heart of greed
The Taking Creed
Now when they do not dream
The Forever Fish morn
Moaning out their lonesome song
Anger at lies told
Promises broken
Confidences shattered
Bile rises
Drowning in half truths
Strangled by discontent
Emotionally degrading
Memory going
Enigma in life
Needs forgotten
Time slips flowing
Initial thoughts lost
Backwards
Annihilation
The Abyss dawns
Within you
Today is World Poetry Day – poetry is something that crops up in all cultures and spans the depths of time.
Here is what the United Nations have to say about it – this date was designated World Poetry Day in 1999 sadly I think I only really found out about it a few years ago, I think around a decade after I found out about National Poetry Day UK which is in the autumn. With the world seemingly becoming more divided here in Europe I feel that this day is one I should use to reflect on our place in the global ecology of all things – science, art, health, economy and the environment. After all we are all in the same boat staying a float for the moment, to steal some Gotye lyrics there. We are all ridding a pale blue dot, space ship Earth and we are all so closely related genetically to each other, to the animals and even the plants aren’t that different to us and yet there is endless diversity which makes our world all the more richer.
A couple of weeks ago when I hosted Gloucesters International Women’s Day event I made the point that the day was not just about us – it was about the world hence the international part of the name. I re-emphasised that we have the freedom to write and speak and share our poetry even when it is against our government or religion etc… many poets globally end up in prison for this – writers in general. My own inlays spent time in prison and exile during the Apartheid regime in South Africa in part for creating a newspaper!
For sharing words.
And others in more recent times have been put to death, or imprisoned or are living as asylum seekers due to something we in this country (UK) see as a bit “sissy”, I have met a few of these poets and it is heart breaking, and a powerful reminder of the freedoms we take for granted – I will not call them a privilege because I feel they are a base right that is being denied to others.
So for me I shall be thinking on these things and sharing poetry through out the day on Twitter and hope that in some small way I can change the world for the better with words – I have to at least try and that doesn’t mean that the words have to all be positive words, sometimes negatives are needed to highlight the problems or as a form of cultural and personal catharsis (something the ancient Greeks did very well with their Tragedy/Comedy mixes).
Twitter handles are @Saffy and @TheMonsterBlogs
There is a man
And he has a wife
He loves her with his all
She saved him
Quelled the loneliness
That ate him from within
Together they made a home
And she grew him babies
So he wouldn’t be lonely
His family
He looks after them
But his soul hurts
And his heart is bruised
For his wife…
His beautiful, intelligent, talented wife
Keeps nearly dying
And all he can do is watch
As she battles on the hospital beds
Sickness cloaking her
Scrubbing her away
Almost it took
His little family
Before it had even properly begun
And when she can not be
Everything she knows she is
It brings a sadness
That all his hugs and kittens
Can not lift
Yet the moments between
When she is herself in fullness
When she is vibrant and keen
These he knows as the danger times
Sick for so long
She has no idea of her own limits
And she never did know when to quit
He wants to stop her play
She could be injured…
She could be killed
There have been too many ambulances
Too many x-rays and scans
And he is scared for her
One day she will kill herself
By being full of life
Or she will wither in pain and illness
On a bed craving those joys and freedoms
And he watches on – hurting and conflicted
Because if he actually was to stop her…
He would destroy her spirit
Something that should never be done
Secretly he hopes
Her art does not sell
He has built his home
His hopes around it
Pictures on the walls
Sock monsters in the kids beds
Manuscripts on the bookcases
So many there is no room for actual books
Musical instruments encroach on the living room
Lumpy knits are worn to unravelling
Mini-sculptures gather dust on the each and every shelf
Awards, certificates and medals placed with pride
Wood turned toys and hand made rugs
He lets her paint and stick and sew and build each room
In tacky shades of self
Even when it is not what he would have picked
Because one day…
One day…
All those things
Might be all he has left of her
And he knows the bleakness is still there
Just damned by her presence
Sometimes the thought makes him weep