Tag: poem

While

NaPoWriMo 2024, day 3 – The prompt was to choose a shortish poem that you like and to write it’s opposite. I chose While by Christopher Reid, one of the first poems I really loved. It’s about a man going for a walk while his wife stays behind, too ill to leave the house. I love the imagery in this poem and the sense of freedom beyond the confines of a sick-room.

My version considers the feelings of the wife – her world shrunk to one small room. I’ve drawn on my own experience of chronic illness.

I’ve included the original first for context.

While by Christopher Reid

While you were confined to the gloom
of our hushed and shuttered room
I stepped out into the sun
olive trees all the way down
to the hidden, then sudden valley
where I hoped to see things more clearly.
Each tree with unique, twisted grace
asserting rights in that harsh place,
hugging its shade to itself
while flaunting an enigmatic wealth
of drab yet glittering foliage
under which – and this was the knowledge
I’d come for – it formed its fruit
from a pressure like unspoken thought.

While

While you step into the light

And shrug off the memory of night

I stay here with dog and chair

In this place beside the stairs,

Listening to the little sounds

A house makes when no-one’s around.

We laughed when we saw this place –

The gloomy florals, the lace.

Leaded windows, closed fast

imprisoning the house’s past.

A dusty picture of femininity

A glimpse of someone else’s memories.

All my movements forced and slow.

I’m trying not to wait for you.

The Day After

You don’t know what to do –

when your days have been

defined by visiting hours and

your thoughts consumed by

the care of her – of getting

drinks and food and worrying –

and suddenly all that’s gone.

Suddenly her soft salt-and-pepper

hair is no longer there for you

to touch.  She no longer needs

you to call the nurse.

Your thoughts are no longer

consumed by numbers on

screens or the colour of her

water or how warm she is.  And

then you have to begin to try

to remember what else there

is besides that small room

into which you poured

so much of your love.

This Is What I Know About Blessings

Something which from a distance appears to be a blessing

may easily turn out to be a curse.  The reverse is also true.

Sometimes they go unrecognised.  Sometimes they are

invisible.  The good fairy isn’t always good, or competent.

Sometimes walls crack and dandelions grow in the spaces

that are left.  Bread runs out and isn’t often replaced by cake.

Daylight hours are not enough.  One day you’ll hold my

hand and wonder how it got to be so old.  Time is both

a curse and a blessing.  So is love.

Things I Will Pledge Allegiance To

My dog, my books, a cup of tea –

the universe, my poetry.

Chris, risotto, sticky buns

Bees and flowers, my two sons.

Education, my left leg,

The sun, the sky, scrambled egg.

The Labour party, at least for now,

A speck of dust, a holy cow.

My favourite sock, a biscuit crumb

A lock of hair, my lovely Mum.

Slime mould, grass, a hairy knee,

immigration, celery.

A wink, a laugh, a persistent itch

But never to the idle rich.

Poems I wish I had written: Number Four

Day Seven Prompt: A list that isn’t a list

I used https://poetrysociety.org.uk/poems/the-silkies/ as inspiration for this.

Poems I wish I had written: Number Four, The Silkies by David Hart

She has my name, for one thing:
Mrs Kendrick.
But she wears it like a siren,
sultry defiance on her lips, sweet as jam.
A flash of red across a grey sea
as she hangs them out to dry.
A wild thing, alone apart from the birds
chattering in lines above.
She whispers to the seals, tells them
secrets of the sailors and their sullen wives.
Offers them wisdom from the sea,
salty and cold. They blink
their black eyes at her
and go back into the water,
where she can’t follow.