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Friday, 31 October 2014

Poetry and Old Ideas

I was flicking through my old documents earlier on the computer, seeing if I could find anything I had forgotten about. Ones I had written long ago, flash ideas which seemed great for about ten minutes before the excitement subsided and turned to boredom - hello, Asperger's - and I found tons. Hundreds of documents with names like 'something.txt' and '1111' and 'moo', simply because I couldn't be bothered thinking up proper names for them (God forbid I ever get a job as a secretary), names which are pointless as anything but somehow beg intrigue, spin curiosity within me, implore me to open them just to find out what in this document could possibly have possessed me to give it a name like 'idontcarejustopenthisnowww.txt'.

Usually, it really is just rubbish. And a lot of it.

But interspersed among this rubbish, the 'moo's, 'what's and 'thingy's, I found some poems. I admit, they aren't my best, but I find they are a reminder, a s tark and sometimes painful reminder, of the past.

The good times, the bad times. The ups, the downs.
Memories, fears. Reality, dreams.

Here I have compiled a few for you to read for yourselves.

Make what you will of them. But someday, you will check your computer or that pile of papers or the files in that box somewhere…and you will find things you had forgotten all about.



Fit In/Bit Different

Everyday I try to fit in
To a place where I'm seen as strange and new,
But normal people-don't they read my feelings?
Confusion and fear to name bjust two.

Some they shove me or kick me and hit me,
Some mock my accent, the way I speak,
And now, each time I pass them by,
They bring me down and make my skies bleak.

I can't change the bus I get,
The council says it's not on the cards,
So just for now (though it feels like forever)
I'll have to be tough and strong and hard.

Where I was born, sticking up for ourselves
Was what we were taught to do,
But now I'm told ignoring them works,
And I just don't know what is true.

But when I start singing, my world comes alive,
Each colour so vibrant and clear,
And the bow on the strings makes the whole room resound 
With the tone I just love to hear.

On my drums I drill the rhythm hard,
Race up my ukulele, hitting each fret,
Get on my pattens, scarring the drains;

But because I'm that bit different, this pain is what I get.


Mirror Image

I lift my hand up, you lift yours the same,
I reach out to touch you, you copy my move again.
A tear runs down my left cheek, a tear down your right,
And in our silent crying, our wet eyes catch identical light.

Wiping eyes together, we take each other in,
The sameness of our hair, our clothes, our faces, our skin.
Knowing each other's history, the spitting image of our own,
No need for words to be spoken, or emotions to be shown.

Hand down, hand down, we stand there for a while,
And both of us attempt, but never manage, a parting smile.
I turn away, you turn away, our backs face each other now,
I step away, you step away, we know each other's route somehow.

Looking round, the two of us, and close them shut again,
And deep inside the pair of us, we know identical pain.
Mirror images, it feels so strange, and in sudden anger I throw a stone;
And mirror image shatters now,

And I am alone.


To the Couple Standing Underneath the Tree

To the couple standing underneath the tree
sheltering from the ceaseless rain:
are you waiting for summer to begin
or for winter to end?

To the couple standing underneath the tree
looking out to the stars:
do you know how special love is?
Do you know how lucky you are?

Every time I pass by you are there
just standing, hesitating.
Oh what I wouldn't do to have as long a life as you:
I wish I had the time you are wasting...

To the couple standing underneath the tree
as the blossom flutters to the ground:
Why do you wait so silently,
never making a sound?

To he who never reaches out his hand
to stroke her hair
to she who never tells him how she loves him
while he's still there
to they who never take a break from the silence
of their day
to kiss - why wait?

One day it might be too late…

To the couple standing underneath the tree
as the light slips away
Can you hear the birds are singing a sad song
as you go your own ways?

I wrote this one as a duet for a musical I started in which the two main characters have terminal illnesses. They are in love, but neither knows the other's feelings yet, and from their hospital rooms they see this couple always coming to the same tree, every single day, only ever talking. This is the part where they are both looking out of their respective rooms together and they sing this song and in doing so finally come to realise that they should tell each other how they feel.
However, the last line is poignant as only a minute later the girl crashes (she stops breathing) and the boy realises maybe it wasn't just too late for the couple underneath the tree…it might be too late for him.


NaCl/The Salt Song

We went to the sea to mine for Au,
We went to the limits to sift the whole thing through
We went from the smallest ponds to the H2O of hell,
But all we found was NaCl

We went to the market in a seaside town,
We set up a stall to sell what we had found,
We told the local shoppers and the tourists as well
how all we'd found was NaCl

Back to the sea, and the H2O of hell,
Five years on from when we first began to sell,
We'd been in all the papers, and the radio as well...
...and still we found the NaCl,

all we found was NaCl


Well, there's a few. But not all!
Expect more some time in the future.
Bye for now!