Answer Me

So I went to the sea to ask what should I do?

What’s my next move?

And the tide ebbed and flowed,

And the gulls just flew.

The people talked and kissed.

My heart whispered, ‘Stay,’

But my head shouted, ‘Go.’

As the boats just stood in silence.

I wrote this poem about fifteen years ago. At that time I had been living in a small city and I had decided that I wanted to move to Brighton and was looking for Jobs in secondary education. I had a really good friend there. Once my mind was made up, I handed my notice in at work and packed up my rucksack and left. At first something magical appeared to be happening as two friends of mine, a couple, decided that they were moving to Brighton too.

About six weeks after my move, I still didn’t have a job and my savings were running out. My friends then told me that they weren’t moving to Brighton after all, but to London instead and they asked me to go with them.

That’s when I headed to the beach, already a favourite place. I remember it was a clear day as I sat on the pebbles and tried to logically work out “What’s my next move?"Should I stick with my decision to stay in Brighton or should I go to London? After all, I’d wanted to live there too.

I remember feeling very still, physically still that is. I was also very conflicted inside. Everything around me moved, the sea, the people and the birds, but there were small boats moored on the beach and though their sails flapped in the wind, they weren’t going anywhere. When I wrote, “My heart whispered ’Stay’;But my head shouted, ’Go’;”it was as if there were many more logical arguments to going to London, yet I could not escape the fact that instinctively it felt wrong to go there, even though I had no money, no job and only one friend. The small voice was winning.

I stayed in Brighton for three years and loved it. Trusting my instincts was definitely the right thing to do.

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A touch of hands, a cheek stroke, a kiss,

These are the things I especially miss,

On this deathly still day, and an evening alone,

Is my Valentine’s way, now that you are gone.

You’ll be dancing somewhere, how you loved to dance,

But when I waltzed with you it lacked in romance,

A man will be talking, you’ll laugh for a while,

Where my jokes fell flat and never raised smile.

Will you pause for a while when you reach the front door,

Are the lights on or off when your dress hits the floor?

I sit in the chair worn down by my rear,

I sip, without tasting, a cheap can of beer,

My moccasin slippers with toe poking through,

Remind me of nights when once I poked you.

Smiling faces fill the night,

Arm in arm, with smug delight,

My cynic’s cold heart stays above,

These public shows of gaudy love.

Happy couples, two by two, happy couples, me and you,

Happy couples, so frou-frou, curtains closed I hide from view.

On this day for lovers, so excited,

I find myself quite uninvited,

So I spend Valentine’s ‘pour un’,

Another year gone – when will I learn?

I wrote this poem as a counter-balance to the endless syrupy verses that fill a million cheap Valentine’s Day cards at this time of year. To my mind, Valentine’s Day is just an arbitrary celebration designed to fill shops and restaurants in the otherwise fallow period between Christmas and Easter.

There is undue pressure put on couples to express their ’love’ for each other on this day, and to express it with soon-dead flowers, over-fattening meals or tacky toys. The idea that love should properly be expressed every day, rather than once a year, seems to be overshadowed by the rampant commercialism of February 14th.

For single people, this day can be the loneliest and saddest of the year. A single person never feels as sad as when they are surrounded by the unfettered happiness of others, a true Valentine’s Day Massacre of the heart, it’s a lot like going on italy ski holidays all alone when everyone else is in a couple…

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Demi Gods and Hungry Ghosts is a buddhist expression related to power-hungry policitians (demi-gods) and manipulative businessmen who are so greedy they prey on consumers like vultures (Hungry ghosts). We are confronted with advertising tactics alls all the time, everywhere we look and everything we are trying to be manipulated advertising. Walk down the street you pass literally hundreds, go to a bank and you are offered a loan, even buy 2 for £2 deals in the supermarket is businesses mechanism designed as a way of getting us to part with our cash.

I wrote Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts to reflect the above and demonstrate how as ordinary people we are being used by the might and money of corporations and politics.

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts

Cast the dice, let it roll

In the blood that flows under your skin

Open up your wounded sores,

Open up for them to let you in.

You’ve made your bed, now you beg

On your knees and they will watch you crawl

Money falls like dirty rain through your hands

When nature comes to call.

Chorus:

They drain your cash and credit cards

Bleed you dry and leave plastic scars

Bow to those who hurt you most

Demi-Gods and hungry ghosts

Wait for the hammer to fall

Demi-Gods need us all

Wait for the hammer to fall

Hungry ghosts feed us all

Wait for the hammer to fall

Demi-Gods need us all

Wait for the hammer to fall

Parasites bleed us all.

Follow trends, pay the price

Dress you up to look like someone else

Promise lives that we yearn

Telling lies that we never learn

Strangers mug in the dark

They don’t care who the fuck you think you are

Tie you up, cut you loose

All that’s left is this fucking life to choose

- - -

Poesy would like to thank dot maison for its past support!

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’Children In The Garden.’

By Mik Smith

They played together in the garden and they were happy.

Everything so fresh and exciting; too young and innocent to have an awareness of wrong.

They chased one another and laughed.

He smiled, she sang.

It did not matter about the time; afternoon, morning, evening.

The air was warm on their skin and their laughter was like silver bells.

The boy and the girl.

The light was gentle; burning amber.

And the breeze whispered dreams of flowers.

‘Come and get me.’ She said, ‘Come and love me.’ She said.

For he was Adam.

And she was Eve.

I had ideas of grandeur for this.

Most of it was written in the middle of the night as I scoffed a bowl of Shreddies (I often get up for a snack). If I went back to bed without writing it down then I knew it would have disappeared by the time I got up.

I went over it all in the morning with my coffee and some cigarettes.

As I wrote it, I heard it being read by the legendary John Hurt. His voice seemed to fit what I was trying to say. Perhaps I should give him a ring and see if he’ll read it out on Radio 4 or something…

Some of it is purposely written in the style of The Cure. There is such a beauty in Robert Smith’s lyrics and I wanted to try and capture the same thing with this.

As for what I was trying to say; it is about the magic of innocence, of everything being new and mysterious. When you are a kid, everything is so exciting, even the weather. You are far more open to joy, imagination and discovery because life is still so full of wonder.

But unfortunately, as you get older, that all goes away. I thought about Adam and Eve before they had fallen and that it must have been very similar for them.

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During the recent snowy spell there has been too much negativity in the media. I was inspired to write a poem about one of the many fine aspects of this wonderful Wintery weather, but I guess if you are not on ski holidays it is sometimes easy to forget the charm. The snow has gone for now, but the weather forecasts say that it may return. I am keeping my fingers crossed, and after reading my poem then you may be as well:

I Love To Watch People Fall Down On The Ice!

Some people like walking through fields in the Spring

To watch flowers grow is a beautiful thing

For others the Summer is their favourite treat

Just lying sun bathing, enjoying the heat

Yet others if pushed would opt for the Fall

The russet leafed look they would prize over all

But for me it’s the Winter that brings a great cheer

I’ll tell you know why I love this time of year:

I just love to watch people fall down on the ice,

Even once, maybe twice, but preferably thrice,

I know that sounds wrong – you may think it’s cruel

But I’m gentle and caring and kind as a rule.

There is nothing that thrills me like watching the snow

First falling then swirling, my heart is a-glow

Wrapped up safe and warm I step onto the street

And laugh as I watch the slip-sliding of feet

To observe their arms swerve in a furious fashion

But alas all in vain, is my wintering passion

To my ears, my dears, there is nothing so nice

As the thud and the thwack when a back hits the ice

Now I don’t like to see people hurt, understand

And I’m first on the scene to proffer helping hand

They rise to their feet, grin and set off but then

They fall down again in one metre or ten.

So if you should see me while out on the street

Please don’t try too hard to stay on your feet

Just smile as you fly past with legs in the sky,

I love to watch people slip down, don’t ask why!

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If you have got even a vague interest in art then this blog is worth having a look at. There are two really interesting posts on it about contemporary artists from south Asia. You don’t often get to hear about what style of pictures are being done in India or Pakistan so this makes very welcome reading.

There are also a good variety of other posts on here which should be investigated. These include one about the spray paint pictures of Maximilian Wiedemann. His work is very impressive and I am definitely going to look for more of his pictures online.

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What follows is a poem I wrote when I was in love a long, long, long time ago. Like a lifetime ago. And I was in love. But things changed. Life moved on and I grew up. I realised he wasn’t actually a very nice person. So I left. But at the time the poem represented how I thought I felt. I still find it powerful. It still reflects how I feel when I am in love with another person. Here goes (I’ve never shared my poems before)

the ocean is wide

but you are by my side

as the light shines bright

you hold me tight

our love grows stronger

for we are together longer

i feel great affection

with your arms for protection

nowo the night draws close

your love is a dose

i need it to sleep

for our love runs deep

as morning dawns

a new day is born

you smile as i wake

what will today make

the mountains rise high

but we are nigh

we reach for our dreams

and nothing, it seems

can take what we have

for what we have

is stronger than love

as we rise up above

our heads are still spinning

our love is not dying

it is growing and growing

as each moment goes by

there is a glint in my eye

and my heart is content

you are heaven sent

here’s another I wrote around the same time of my life.

the clock ticks

it’s five to the hour

the blossoms flower

in a midsummers shower

the clock stil ticks

the hour draws nearer

skies are clearer

the heart beats faster

the clock may stop

but our minds still race

in a crowd your face

in our hearts, your grace

the clock lies silent

what more to say.

I don’t actually remember what the inspiration for this one was. it feels like something was expected and it was taken away from me, suddenly. Maybe I was day dreaming of Cashless vending machines which never actually became a reality in my life at that time.

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So many have been written

We’ve heard them all before

Quaint tales of words quite rhyming

Or emotion a writer insisted to pour

“So what is in this poem?” I say

What topic shall we endure?

Perhaps its time to write a poem

A Poem Like None Before

I step out from behind the crowd

In first person I declare

This poem was meant to bring attention

To how much I really care

Three steps apart for many years

Most likely not aware

The one we both were looking for

Was oddly enough “right there”

No heartache, pain, or even grief

You’ve had an immeasurable dose

I write this poem to let you know

I love you and want to be so close

No one spent the time to see

The magic that you are

You are the definition of love

My daily shooting star

I feel warmth so deep inside

You comfort all of my pain

The talks and time we’ve shared thus far

Bring sunshine even if there is rain

So repetitive words of love in prose

I surely must adore

I meant to make your smile today

With a Poem Like None Before

This is real, with no cosmetic dressing up at all. This poem was written in the mist of a blooming everlasting love. A poem that urges to be shouted out as loud as possible. A poem that needs to be plastered all over Banner Stands for people to view. After being apart for several years due to circumstances, two people were brought back together and found peace and love in one another once again. This just happens to be one of those poems that pour from a writer without even stopping for much time to think. A “Poem Like None Before” is a poem that speaks straight from the heart instead of the creative mind. This is surely true love being expressed at its finest. It is of pure love that is untainted and ready to bloom into something even stronger and more powerful.

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Tyne Cot - the poem.

You graves that line this placid place Engulfed by trees and green, Remind me of a time that in reality I have never seen. But studied once with great intense
When I was just a lad.
I now I stand
Grave on grave.
The air is thick and sad.
An overwhelming sense of grief For the boys who fought in the war.
Not pride for my country Or ‘Good work chaps!’
Just questions..
‘Why?’
‘What for?’
You boys, perhaps once crushed by tank, Left gurgling in the mud. Left drowning in your frothy phlegm and choking on your blood. Now rest in peace, Still in the earth, Though this time placed and dressed.
And here I stand above the sand, alive
And I feel blessed.

—End—

Author Biog:

My girlfriend works in Beauty public relations. One of the company’s clients is a magazine that was holding a photography competition (nothing to do with Beauty PR actually) and she was encouraging me to enter. I was sifting through some of my old pictures when I found some of a famous Second World War memorial Site in Belgium called Tyne Cot. The pictures I found reminded me of the poem I wrote about my experience when visiting the site. The poem you have just read is that same poem.

It’s funny because when I was at school we studied war poetry in English class and had to have a go at writing a poem like that of Seigfried Sasoon and Wilfred Owen.
If you’ve never read their work and are into poetry I’d strongly suggest that you check them out. There’s not a lot of written information that captures the harrowing experience of the soldiers in the World wars in quite the same way that Owen and Sasoon manage to evoke. It’s not work you want to ponder on too much obviously, but I think it’s important that we understand what the generations before us went through, if nothing else than to just appreciate our life style these days.
My poem does match the work of these two great poets but ironically i think it’s better than anything I came up with at school! Funny how writing flows sometimes when you’re not under pressure!

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We’ve just decided to move and only got a new puppy last week too so I’ve been up to my eyeballs trying to sort out dog insurance as well as sell my property! Crazy I know, but sometimes you can’t time these things. The puppy was supposed to come once we’d moved, but the one we wanted was cheaper than anywhere else and we knew we couldn’t get the same one for that price anywhere else since she’s such a rare breed.
Anyway, while I was packing things up in preparation for the big move next month I stumbled across the lyrics for an old song I wrote in my early twenties. It’s about a girlfriend I had in my teens who broke my heart (the last thing you want to find when you’re trying to sell your flat! -well I’m over it now, but I guess it just brought it all back for a minute or two!

Here it is:

Single parent, only daughter to raise. Situation of tragic circumstance. He filled her life with criticism and praise. When she told him ‘Daddy, I wanna dance!’
His little girl had grown up so fast. And he’d expected that her childhood should lastBut what could she do? She was just her Daddy’s Girl
Just a baby when Mummy had died, Lonely Daddy with child but no wife. I’ll raise you well my child though I’m dying inside And if needs be i will give up my life.
His little girl was a lover of mine. We were quite happy but for just a short time. But what can you say when you play with Daddy’s girl?
Love is funny when you’re stupid and young.Infatuation’s the term. Being together didn’t end up much funBut hey - we live and we learn.
When baby grows up you have to let go. Even though it feels it cuts like a knife. Baby will come back, baby loves you so. But being free is so important in life
So who was I to get in the way? Daddy’s girl, you’ll probably make it one day. And when you get to the top I will say, “I knew that Daddy’s Girl”…

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