WeLL! WeLL! WeLL!

I was recently asked if I would contribute a piece of my own poetry for a publication being created by Portsmouth Libraries Writer In Residence 2012 (PLWIR) Denyse Kirkby. The publication is to be entitled 'WeLL, what's your story', & the content will be drawn from personal stories, anecdotes, poetry & creative writing produced by the residents of Portsmouth. With the common thread being what Portsmouth, the city, has come to mean to the writer.

To say I am humbly flattered Denyse has asked me to make a contribution to her fantastic project, is an understatement. What follows at the end of this preface is the piece I have created to be considered for inclusion.

The idea for my contribution came from a few scribbled lines I had jotted down in my notebook & was put together into a more fully fledged piece when I attended & met Denyse at her recent WeLL session, held at Cosham Library. I had almost completed the poem when time beat us in the session, so I have finished the work at home.

The idea of writing a piece around mental health wellness seemed perfect for the title of Denyse's planned publication. In Denyse's case however the brilliant 'WeLL' project she has created, explores the theme for her year as PLWIR, which is 'We Love Literacy'. For more information about Denyse, her writing & her residency then click on this link to Denyse's own website http://djkirkby.co.uk/ 

I hope you enjoy this my most recent of poems. It has been for me the most challenging I have undertaken. In this poem I have tried to convey feelings drawn from my own mental health illness experiences, described as though being felt by another sufferer. I have cast myself in the role of the helping hand all sufferers rely on, when, & if available, to assist in their mental health wellness. I have titled the piece 'Incandescent Self'.

Incandescent Self

Lurking, stalking the depths of despair are never very far.

Voices in the silence are screaming and shouting, of memories

you've whispered in the dark.

Torment it nestles quietly, waiting, in every recess of your soul.

Just as you think it's sleeping; velvet like, it ascends resuming its heavy toll.

Right now the need for sleep is grating, behind weary stinging eyes.

It distresses you in ways you've never felt before, like scraping bleeding knuckles across a pebble dashed wall.

The pain is indescribable, maligned & misunderstood, you try to verbalise it, so they might glimpse what harries behind your cloaked construct.

Empty promises you hear from smiling strangers, as you walk into the unknown, will turn into familiar rejection once they realise you are tortured
 and struggling for control.
The patient understanding you are yearning you think you'll never find
It's within touch dear reader, you'll recognise it here in my true and caring eyes

From me you'll receive no rejection, just comfort, understanding 
and an empathetic smile.
You've suffered at the cruellest hands both physically and in your mind, from which you've retreated deep within, to protect your glorious incandescent self from the brusque inquisition of your anguished mental health.

Trust me when I tell you of your gentle inner strength and push open the robust door you believe seals your future shut.
 I will be there to greet you and still your trembling hand as comfort is restored 
where we will walk together weeping on nature's golden sands
under the glow of soft and warming light.

Five children we see building castles with buckets spades and sticks
 laughing oblivious as we weeping pass them by
We walk on together your stride extends with mine to leave the scene we witnessed, knowing sadly in our hearts 
that at least two of these innocents will one day shed tears in a scene just like this   


  

A journey through shame

The following poem I composed in 2005.


I wanted to convey a message of understanding to a very dear friend who was desperately close to the precipice of life. My message was simple, it was, that in spite of his actions towards his only son, I would do all I could to help him negotiate what would be a traumatic journey through shame. The journey would have to be undertaken to repair the serious damage caused by his reckless actions, in order to show his son his deep felt remorse for all he had done. I wanted to let my friend see there was always hope, and that a true and lasting reconciliation could be achieved. Most of all I wanted to let him know that in me he had and always would have a friend.


I gave this poem the title 'Descent'

When it rains, it rains so fiercely and ever so hard

I hear you, I feel you, and I see you are scarred

Eyes half closed and a grip so thin

Shadows weigh heavily and deepen your sin

The sun in your life trembles and fades

Descending along a pathway your emotions so grave

Memories awaken of how you have grown

Temptations still surround you a curse of grey stone

Friendships so fragile where should you turn

As each thread unravels by some you’ll be spurned

Strength is within you, for you hold the key

Hidden deep inside you is an image of me

The link we share has roots mangrove weaved

Just reach for my shelter, so safe you can weep

False expectations appearing so real

They limit your reach with vigour and zeal

A whisper, a murmur, your conscience starts to sway 

Whilst standing still in the light breeze of May

Your hurt self-inflicted is rustled and opens inner shame

Dominoes tipped are now accelerating this game

Springs fresh colours instil a yearn for release

A search for a place filled with endless sweet peace

But mine is a friendship so vast and so deep

My arms are wide open they offer a cradle of sleep

From over your shoulder comes a gift from the heart

Proving this bond filled with love is sealed from the start

Standing side by side a father & son, such permanent kin

When it rains, it rains gently and softens their skin

  

Toeing The Line

I cannot begin to tell you how hard this was to even contemplate writing, let alone picking up the pen to begin. Truly the most emotional piece I will probably ever write. I won't write about it again, somethings are best left in the past. Still, I am here, and I am posting this composition for you dear reader. The old adage, a trouble shared is what comes to mind for why I am here. I will let you decide for yourself. 

Father, to you I was never a son, I was never quite good enough to stand in the rays of that love. I was someone you could bully, use and abuse. With this piece of work I have tried to give a glimpse into what it was like to be your third son. You will never understand how I loathe what you did, but despite all that that carries I will never hate you for it, instead, I pity you Father, I pity you, you blew it!

Toe the line

What bloody line?

You say it’s quite clear

But I can’t see it from here

Is it transparent?

Or immovable with temper, dread and fear?

It’s all in your mind

This invisible guide

It fails me each day

As it shifts and it sways

Inconsistent with no direction

Your perfection so unreal

Pride is my prejudice

While your truth is a lie

This perspective of view

Is unique to you, just you 

Your line is dye cast

From things in your past

Mine, feels bereft

For it contains you in its thread

 I cannot deny

 You shadow my eye

 Always watching & judging

 Berating & hating

What did this small boy do?

To draw such rage from you

 I loathe what you did

To your own fucking kid

Toe the line

Toe your line

Toe my line

Why? Oh Why? Oh Why? 

  

Tokens of Love

One of the first pieces of poetry I wrote was called 'Tokens Of Love'. I recall I was trying to explore the feelings surrounding love, loss, beauty, pain etc. We seek out love and are hurt by love. When hurt through love, eventually it is to the power of love we return. As I say it is one of my first efforts at putting thoughts down on to paper and probably sounds very naive, but the sentiment is true.

Tokens of Love

Tokens of love we carelessly spurn

With silent eyes and a gaze unturned

Lying sleeping in an unknown bed

A wistful thought reveals truths unsaid

Meanings left within a lock of stolen hair

Dismantle the heart which held you there

From torment no relief, you sent me away

Que Sera! Will there ever be a liberty day?

Commonly spoken three words we say

Now hasten solemn grief, let this pain slip away

Certain in time these shadows will fade

For sunlight, it glistens through a far off glade

Memories linger and lap at the shore

Calling your name, L'amour once more

From distant echoes your gifts return

In tokens of love we endlessly yearn 

Tales Of The King

As a child I was failed by my Father, both as a parent and role model, his hands and other implements of fear never missed their mark. The effect of this situation on me, was lessened in so many ways by my wonderful Aunt Kathleen & Uncle Tony. They have always shown me so much love, encouragement & instilled in me a belief that family can work. Sadly my hero, my Uncle Tony passed away in 2011 following a very long period of illness. My Uncle was a published novelist using the pseudonym Harrison Anthony, his only novel was entitled 'Women Incorporated', and was published in 1996 by Minerva Press. My Aunt & Uncle spent a lot of time living abroad through my Uncles' position as a Chartered Surveyor. One of these places was Mbabane, the capital city of Swaziland, where my Uncle was working on a project for the King. I always missed them terribly, however, Uncle Tony & I would exchange letters regularly. I could barely wait for each new letter, always so beautifully written, and regaling me with 'Tales of the King'. Around about 8 years ago I set about writing a poem dedicated to my Uncle Tony. I struggled for weeks in my efforts to say what I wanted, & needed to say. It dawned on me one afternoon, whilst scrunching up yet another failed effort, the reason the words would not come, was because I was trying to write it solely about my Uncle. If I wanted this piece to be from the heart, and truly convey my memories and feelings, I had to write the poem about both my Aunt and my Uncle, they were inseparable in life, and there was simply no way this project was going to succeed if I tried to write about them singly. This revelation and recognition of their love for each other inspired the following piece 'Tales of the King'. The piece recollects happy times and sad, recalling my beloved Aunt's Mum, my Nan 'Viley' who would always sing hymns to us in the car when returning from a day out. It refers to places in Kent, my county of birth, but most of all I hope it conveys the love I will always have for both my Aunty Kath & my late Uncle Tony, they will both remain my heroes, always.


             Tales of the King

Recollections they greet us with fervent wide smiles

Over two score years, and thousands of miles

Time spent together, though more days apart

Each moment shared, was a gift from the heart

Remember back when? I hear you both ask,

As stories unfold from times in our past

An office, some drawings and Canterbury’s there

I eagerly followed you up each wooden stair

The sun seemed to fade when our journeys would part

Yet every day your smiles would glow in my heart

Great distance between us, but how this child would sing

When letters regaled me with tales of the King

There was leather on willow and picking wild flowers

Sisters, cousins, brothers, all the families, they were ours

The long haired, the short haired, the tall and the dark

Nurturing each one deeply, even when life, it tore at the heart

From Dymchurch to Margate we shared summer days

Listening to hymns sung by our beloved Violet May

The things that so bind us is much more than the laughs

It’s within Angels Trumpets and a Giraffe, hand carved

Like the roar of the Lion your voices remain so strong

A constant in my life which lets me know I belong

Treasured memories fill my mind with recollections of such golden times

All filled with such deep love for an Aunt and Uncle of mine

Sipping On Ice

This poem was inspired by thoughts of a friend living on Grand Cayman Island

Sipping On Ice

Lips gently caressing and sipping on ice

Seeking sparkling wishes, a dreamers device 

Feeling the warmth of the same chivalrous star

Shining with memories of your smile, a gift from afar

Coral blue oceans surround you; whilst a warm breeze kisses your hair

Fondly spoken stories, one small giggle and you’re there

A wine filled glass now lipstick marked, not once but deftly twice

Your lips gently caressing and sipping on ice 

#poetry