Poetry - March 2008

I'm Not You

It's really nice of you
To confide with me
That you feel confident enough
To talk to me about things
I'm not going to pretend
That I know all the answers
I definitely won't patronise you
With the usual diatribe of
"I know how you feel"
Because to be honest, I don't
And in any case
I'm not you
I don't know how you feel
All I can give you is my empathy
And hope that that's enough
So that you feel trust in me.

(We've all had moments where we've needed to talk to someone, but I refuse to pretend to know how anyone feels - hard enough knowing how I feel most of the time!)

So Bloody Lovely

He has a smile on my face
That simply won't go away
It might sound completely daft
But he knows what's made him feel this way
And he proclaims that he's smiled more
In the last year or so of his life
Than he's ever felt so before
Because of the lack of the trouble and strife
That makes him feel good inside
And he knows what makes him so free
It's the friends he's made that's given him life
Because, he says, they're so bloody lovely.

(Aren't friends great? Well, if you feel that they are, there's times that someone comes along and just by being themselves makes a difference. I am lucky. I have several I can fit into that category and they're all lovely good people.)

World Games

Starting off with lifting of the weights
The snatch and the clean and jerk
Remembering to press down after lifting
So your man doesn't fall through the floor like a berk
Then off to the barrel jumping
Where for fun you can attempt just three
But getting the feet in time to jump
Is the absolute way to land seventeen in key
Diving off a cliff is next on the tour
And how tricky the wind can make it
Because if you miss and hit the rocks
You can see that it'll hurt a fair bit
Skiing down the slalom is pretty tricky going
Because if you hit a gate in the face you're out
I can manage to do this without missing one
But you really do need some brain clout
Rolling the logs to the Monty Python tune
Always works better with two
Because the computer knows your every move
And at least you can make the friend look poo
Riding the bull seems easy on paper
But the Earthquake can soon have you falling down
As he bucks and spins to try and force you off
And if you don't land right you look a clown
Off to Scotland for the caber toss
If throwing big long logs if your thing
But if you manage to land it successfully
The bagpipes play your Highland Fling
Lastly it's sumo time and not Paul Gascoigne
As you imitate the ancient Japanese sport
Flinging, slapping and tripping the opponent over
So easy to do so, or so you thought
Then the medals are handed out
And it's the anthems for the winner
If you were clever with the joystick
Your gold medals prove that you're not a sinner
That is World Games, a game of classic status
For the old Commodore 64
One that I've had endless fun with
And one that makes you want to play more.

(Always the mainstay of having friends round is four player World Games - it's just fun!)

The Ides of March

People tell you to beware them
But is it myth and superstition
I blame Sue Townsend
For the Adrian Mole book made it tradition
That every March something would be mentioned
About those troublesome ides of March
And yet some research proves the point that
It's Ceasar's death - not a good lark
It's also now a metaphor
For all things that could be doom
That's not what you want to know
When the first of March hits your bedroom.

(Myths and superstitions.. hmm.)

Earthquake Haiku

I felt the earth move
Under my feet, one am
And it woke me up!

(Well the earth did move for me - literally!.)