Hipsters

Shoreditch, Dalston, trendy bars
Quotes on chalkboards, food in jars
Short hair, fake glasses, bearded faces
Opening shops in random places
Free wi-fi, board games, wooden tables
Hats indoors and vintage labels
Sourdough, quinoa, cucumber water
Exposed walls of bricks and mortar
Retro posters, skinny jeans
Iconic tops and coffee beans
Edgy, trendy, outside the box
Instagram food and wear no socks
Kale, craft beers, farm-to-fork
Truffle oil and belly of pork
Fitted hoodies, mismatched chairs
Old school loafers, trouser tears
Fair trade, organic, tattooed waiters
Moustache and braces, mainstream haters

St Mary's

An unassuming building at the top of Wiltshire Lane
Was where our education made the teaching staff insane.
It's where we learned to follow rules, with all their dont's and do's
We wore our tasselled loafers and our chunky platform shoes.
We'd laugh at Pink Amoeba, and imitate the rest
We'd snigger in biology at any mention of a breast.
We'd talk to the St Nick's boys through a hole made in the fence
We'd be looking out for teachers before the flirting could commence.
We smoked under the willow tree and hid behind the stage
And when it was exam time, we'd stare blankly at the page.
We'd sit with bunsen burner, in the science lab we'd be
We'd look out of the window and see Doug Banks up a tree!
We'd beg for roast potatoes from the dinner lady's pile
And extra chocolate krispies would make our day worthwhile.
We'd take things from the cupboard at Domestic Science time
And before the teacher caught us, we would leave the scene of crime.
They'd check your flannel knickers by lifting up your skirt
And hurdling and javelin were just designed to hurt!
We all shook hands with Nellie at the end of every year
And she would look right through you and fill your heart with fear.
And yet we kept on going to that place in Wiltshire Lane
To meet our friends and socialise and make the staff insane.

The Farm

When I was eight, along came fate and my obsession with the horse
Collecting eggs and feeding dregs to all the pigs of course
I'd wake at dawn, early morn, excitement in my veins
First time riding, felt like hiding, until I held the reins.
Crazy goose, on the loose, guarding farmyard gate
Eyes dead center, scared to enter, is what I used to hate
Milking goats, grooming coats and weaning baby cow
Breeding rabbits, dirty habits and catching runaway sow
In the barn, tied with yarn was all the hay and straw
Along with stables, electric cables with horseshoes on the door
Buying stock, against the clock, every week in Southall Market
Auction man and Danny's van, not knowing where to park it
In the orchard, apples tortured, laying on the floor
Bruised and battered, never mattered, still ate them to the core
Breaking horses, powerful forces, was where my talent lay
In the night, timid mite but strong and brave by day
Time gone by, giant sigh, I'm filled with such remorse
I live in town, it gets me down and I really miss the horse.

Birth

Something hurt, a bodily invasion
This was NOT a happy occasion
I could hear them having a conversation
Something about a complication?
Fear now danced with trepidation
How I'd love a mild sedation!
Suffering now from de-hydration
I wanted an end to my gestation
Only 3 centimetres in my dilation!
I couldn't hide the pure frustration
Pangs of agony, nurse rotation
Hours and hours of preparation
Then it happened- activation!
Too late to make a cancellation
Several tries at inhalation
The midwife helped with navigation
And with resolve and determination
I saw the results of my creation
All I felt was tribulation
And settled down for relaxation.

Not where I live

There's no host of golden daffodils
Not where I live
No midday sun peeping through the clouds
Or fresh linen blowing gently in the breeze

There's only fields of concrete
Polluted streets and bubblegum

There's no tiger tiger burning bright
Not where I live
No morning dew settling on the lawn
Or birds singing about the joy of birth

There's only next door's cat
Single magpies and pouring rain

There's no nightingale singing in Berkeley Square
Not where I live
No blanket of stars twinkling on high
Or rainbows stretching to the far beyond

There's only scruffy pigeons
Telephone wires and satellite dishes

There's no thing of beauty that's a joy forever
Not where I live
No love that's like a red red rose
Or poems lovely as a tree

There's only broken windows
dog mess and traffic jams

Brother Bob...

I remember you planted the flowers
outside our childhood home
and added earth and sunshine
so they were not alone

I remember the man you grew into
before the suffering took hold
and how our paths crossed once again
when you and I were old

I remember a time that I loved you
when you and I were young
and how our lives are different
now the bells of death have rung

I remember at your funeral
playing "Thank you for the days"
and feeling that if only
you had changed your reckless ways

I remember scattering ashes
on the very earth you laid
back outside our childhood home
where our destiny was made

Haiku

I have been doing various things in my Media class. Last week I was set a challenge by my tutor, Colin.  It was to write a Haiku, which is a traditional form of Japanese poetry. the poem must consist of 3 lines, the first and last lines have 5 syllables and the middle line has 7 syllables. The lines don't have to rhyme, are usually inspired by an element of nature or an experience and capture a feeling or image. Here is my first attempt:

Trust your inside voice
It will always tell the truth
Be sure you're ready

suicidal.....

I'm about to post something that I wrote a few weeks ago when I was feeling hopeless, helpless and suicidal. I'm sorry if my words offend anyone but it is often how I feel. It is a big part of my life. Usually I wouldn't write down what I'm feeling because I can't identify it or explain it but, my fabulous tutor in my media class, asked me to try so here it is.....




When your mind works against you, telling you that you are worthless and you have to do as it says. It controls you and tries to lead you down the wrong path. Something inside you knows it's the wrong path but you still walk there anyway. Wanting someone to stop you, a stranger, anybody but there's no-one there. So your mind is winning all the time. It is a constant battle. Not to listen to it, with it's incessant nagging that you're useless and no-one loves you and no-one cares. Part of you hopes that it's lying but you believe what it tells you. How can someone as awful as you still exist? Who wants you here? Who will miss you when you're gone? Constant questioning, fighting with your own mind and giving up when you realise it is too powerful. It seems easier to stop fighting because it is too painful and too hard. Again, your mind has beaten you down and showed it's strength. You are left feeling weak, exhausted and vulnerable. Eventually it releases it's hold and lets you have a little breathing space just because it can. It wants you to be strong enough for the next fight. You know there will be another one shortly, there always is.....