People

Drinking Alone

He watched his weakness from a cold corner,
Shivering under the light of a fading day,
Holding back the nightmare of his winter,
'Till eventually, angrily he crossed the room
And broke the seal and poured out his worse pain.
Not with the eager thrill of an adventurer,
But with total resignation
And disgust at the smell of his insanity.
Holding the amber goddess to the light
In self-seduction, poison, promised plight.
He sucked from the rim like a man
On the cracked edge of a desert
And waited for his darkest hour's night.






Endymion 2006

Physiotherapist


Her hands
are smooth,
pale and cool;
strong and healing.
She's very British over all,
despite her spoken feelings.

Her eyes are fierce, in kindly fashion.
She attacks my weaknesses with passion.
"That f*cking hurts!" I shouted, when
she'd made me push the pain again.
Then I laughed
at her grim face,
"A dozen more!"
(I gave in with good grace.)

At other times, her eyes enquire,
while bending limb or digit.
She can hear exhaustion
in a voice
and read pain
in a fidget.

If I'm feeling really low,
like, sorry for my lot…
She'll put me on
another track.
Remind me
what I have got.

"Work with what you have," she says,
and gives me a quick smile.
Then goes to make us both some tea,
and lets me lie back for a while.

She doesn't know,
She cannot tell,
And I could never say...
But her hands are very dear to me
In a strange, platonic way.



Endymion 2006

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Physiotherapist (take 2)


I'm very conscious of her eyes and hands on me.
Seeing what I cannot see.
Feeling what I cannot feel.
Knowing where I cannot heal.





Endymion 2006

Tread Gently

Let's tread gently on the lives
Of the little ones.
Put in their young minds
All we could wish to receive
From them tomorrow.
Let their tender view of life
Be of human love
And not of fear and sorrow.

Let's step very quietly by
Their secret world.
Give them ample chance
To learn to live and grow.
For don't they deserve
All measure of protection?
Mind and body both?

Let's tread gently on the lives
Of the little ones.
For their tender hearts
Are in search of guidance.
And Great Adult Wisdom
Must not fail them
With a traumatising war
Of adult defiance.


Endymion 2006

http://iraqprofile.blogspot.com/2005/02/occupation.html

14th Poem

I can't stop
Not even to try and ease
My exhausted head
Or to un-freeze my body
And crawl into bed

My spine aches
Like an angry snake
Poisons my blood
And spits out hate

There's a gun at my head
My poetry's the bullet
And I'd use it
If I knew how to write it

But I only know how to fight it



Endymion 2006

Abandoned

I never knew you
Or myself
No relation
And no nation
Alien
Abstraction
Maternal retraction
Loneliness
Impounded
Life unfounded
Parentless
Homeless
Adam discarded
In love




Endymion 2206
***********************************************



Abandoned I

(The Benefits)

No inherited religion or nationalism
Ingrained in your brain. Lucky

No mother to forget to ring at least
Once every week. Lucky

Christmas is cheap. No need to
Worry about buying presents. Lucky

No father to have to try and impress
With personal achievement. Lucky

No elderly relatives to remind you
What you did when you were small. Lucky

No family photographs for you
To cry over in old age. Lucky

If you wake up in a police cell, there's only you
To have to explain things to. Lucky

The man that beat you as a child
Was not your real father! Lucky

Lucky Lucky




Endymion 2006
****************************************************



Abandoned II


Where does the guilt come from?
I know that it is
Illogical
Yet I feel to blame.
Did I scream?
When they took me away?
I have a recollection
Of your smell.
Your hair, long and soft
Against my face.
Who were you, mother?
Who was my father?

Who can I be, now?




Endymion 2006
*****************************************************

Endy -I like your stuff. All of it is interesting to me, but I found Abandoned particularly powerful- is it about adoption? If so, it's one of the most simply powerful poems I've ever read about the feelings one might have if they knew they'd been placed for adoption.

The whole things works really well together - but I particularly like the lines: Alien, Abstraction, Maternal retraction and Adam discarded, In love

Hi aiden

I'm looking forward to the spring too.

Thanks for the comments.

I'm not too good at this bit .. talking about my stuff.
But yeah, Abandoned is about not knowing who you are because you didn't grow up with your own kind.
I spent the first 15 years of my life jumping from the frying pan into the fire and back again. Got burnt. Suppose writing down my sh*t helps.

I'm not interested in being published, but if any of my poems ever helped anyone else with their own pain - that would be a great thing for me. There was a time (not so long ago, actually) when I felt I didn't have anything to offer anyone.

By the way, I've been reading in The Back Room. Got hooked quick. I'll check in there again and post sometime.

Nice talking to you.
Endy

Last night i was listening to Maria Callas and jotted down a few feelings in 'Spontaneous Poems'. This is what came after that. I remember seeing a poem by Dylan Thomas that was printed in the shape of a triangle.
What I've done below is a poor reflection and certainly not made up of straight lines, but never-the-less, I liked the band that the words form down the left side. The repetitive, "Her voice is like..." comes from last night when I really wanted to express how powerfully I was effected by hearing Maria Callas - but found the words to do so hard to find.

The lines get shorter as I run out of words

Anyway -


Maria


Her voice is a nightingale 's caught and kept in a cage
Her voice is a furnace, stoked by the dew of alchemy
Her voice is a rainbow of parade colours, streaming
Her voice is a magnificent river - thawing white ice
Her voice is a velvet night and pale misty morning
Her voice is empowering and tragic in cold bravery
Her voice is the laughter of working class women
Her voice is a new harvest, freshly cut, and ripe
Her voice is a ghost, that spills its darkest fears
Her voice is the tenderness of a soothing hand
Her voice is the crystal clear prism of brilliance
Her voice is the rain, on a long summer night
Her voice is in memory painful and poignant

Her voice is a dark figure, hiding in the mist
Her voice is trust, freely given, without loss
Her voice is vanished history, a royal bride
Her voice is a stranger's smile, in the dark
Her voice is the lullaby, for an empty crib
Her voice is the sky - cobalt and glorious
Her voice is a flower, opening to the sun
Her voice is a road out to a new horizon
Her voice is youth - pure and unruffled
Her voice is a truth, untouched by fear
Her voice is a testament to men fallen
Her voice is a thousand falling leaves
Her voice is a ringed-bond held tight
Her voice is a dream secretly hidden
Her voice is a deep hole in my heart
Her voice is the symphony of sense
Her voice is a mother's fearful love
Her voice is a riot of faraway stars
Her voice is Eve's in all her forms
Her voice is a forest lit by storms
Her voice is an Amazonian dance
Her voice is moonlight on a lake
Her voice is love, without greed
Her voice is a shimmering dusk
Her voice is power beyond war
Her voice is agony, beautified
Her voice is an ancient palace
Her voice is a passion denied
Her voice is a proud anthem
Her voice is a Lover's desire
Her voice is a plume of fire
Her voice is a guiding light
Her voice is overwhelming
Her voice is a joy unto me
Her voice is in celebration
Her voice is a cry of faith
Her voice is ever healing
Her voice is a safe place
Her voice is all mystery
Her voice is testimony
Her voice is humanity
Her voice is freedom
Her voice is fantasy
Her voice is I in me
Her voice is an art
Her voice is alive
Her voice is loss
Her voice is all




Endymion 2006

Angry Youth

You think you know me?
Wanna be the one to mend m brain?
Well step back right now, man
Cos I'm telling ya
I'm $ucking insane

You came around and shook that sappy head
Purple tie comes sits on my wired up bed
Asked me straight
You said,
"Dude, d'ya really wanna be dead?
Cos I can unscramble your $ucking head."

I said, Hold it right there, man. Shut yo mo
Where the $uck woz ya ten years ago?
Left me lying in a corner
Bleeding slow,
You knew it was going down years ago

So, get the $uck off m legs shmo


You think you know me?
Wanna be the one to mend m brain?
Well step back right now, man
Cos I'm telling ya
I'm $ucking insane


If it weren't for you I wouldn't be here
Is that getting through? Have I made myself clear?
Adults $ucked me up
Now you sit here,
Acting all chummy and $ucked up weird
Laboratory eyes blinking fear


You wanna stock me with yo pills?
You wanna hear it all to get yo cheap thrills?
Get off on my ****?
I can't figure it - Yo give me chills man, yo ill



I ain't no Frankenstein pixie
Now you wana unscrew my brains take a look-see?
I don't need no therapy to dismantle me

I don't need no social worker dick jerker

I don't need no shoulder I already told ya

You think you know me?
Wanna be the one to mend m brain?
Well step back right now, man
Cos I'm telling ya
I'm $ucking insane


I don't need to talk my **** thanx I lived it


Endymion

Old Man

Buggers
Shut down old Ted's post office today
Shut him down for good
Took away his pay
Cut backs and all that
Well, that's what they say
But you didn't have to walk four miles
To post a card in my day

You know,
These youngsters these days
They're scary enough
To turn a bald man grey
They ask me stupid questions
But what I can say?
When they're shouting in my ears like that
I can't hear nothing anyway

Last week,
A couple o' lads were getting rough with me
I suppose they don't give a damn
That I woz there in '43 -
Just a kid like them I were
Cocky, in me prime
Killed good men from Germany
And saw mates vanish up the line

Sometimes I think back then would seem
A better place to be
I think I felt much safer then
In all that misery

Listen
Now they've shut old Ted's place
I've nowhere in mind to go
I won't gather with the OAPs
I ain't that type of bloke
This really isn't who I am
And I ain't what I seem
I may look very $ucking old
But in here…… I'm still eighteen




Endymion 2006

Time Traveller

There is a hill where I go
And sit; alone
Where land and sky
Lay joined by mist
On the horizon
And birds fly over
Fields of azure and ochre
Vast distances
Into the blue

Where ancient oaks persist
Under a pale winter sun
And stone walls separate
Cattle from crops
There, on the hill
Where a Saxon king
Lies sleeping
And the far away city,
In all its 21st Century
Madness
Is nothing but a dream




Endymion 2006

I would like you to stop being modest and really focus on your talent. it touches people whether you see it or not. I wish I was Maria,...she sounds lovely

Hi shari6905

If you want to hear Maria as I heard her that night I wrote about her, I recommend the album Maria Callas - The Legend

She was a tragic Diva - too lovely for this world. Her voice is....
well, I've been through all that...

Here's a brief biography if you're interested
http://www.serendipity.li/callas/steegbio.html

***********************************
Also, thanks shari6905 for your encouragement, it means a lot.

As for being modest - it may seem that way but the truth is that I started writing poetry about how I felt as a kind of therapy (don't we all) and sometimes I get very afraid of what's in my head, what I might say. I suppose I worry that people don't want to hear all that, or that I may reveal too much of myself.

It has helped me immensely just to put the thoughts, the feelings out there.

However, having said that, you are right to say 'focus'
I've been here a little while now and there are some very brave poets and other talents about the forum. I've learned a lot just by being here.

Also, I can't believe how quickly poetry has come to mean so much to me.
My old mates think I must be having a secret affair!
I could never tell them I post here. So, I can never reveal too much about myself. In wanting to keep my anonymity, I am limited in my poetry.
If I was brave enough to 'come out' I know that my words would become something with much more meaningful - much more powerful to others, but I'm just not brave enough.
Even if I were, I'm not sure it would be the right thing to do.
There's politics tied up in it.

What may come over as 'modesty' is really self-contempt.
I have my reasons.

Thanks for getting me to talk about it truthfully. It's helped.


Peace, Endy

Hey shari6905

I just wanted you to know that I did what you suggested and focused -
What came to me was the poem for Anne Frank (Dear Anne).
I've put it on the Death Diary thread and wanted to say thanks to you

Endy

Endy, You dont have to thank me. I just saw something that I liked. I used to write......but lifes twists and turnes turned out to be more than my heart could take. I dont write anymore. Due to self-contempt perhaps but I like to see it in others....I like to see it in you.

Hi Shari

I think what you wrote here is a poem in itself. I hope you don't mind me showing you how I read it as poetry.


You don't have to thank me
I saw something that I liked
You know, I used to write
But life's twists and turns
Turned out to be
More than my heart could take
I don't write anymore
Self-contempt perhaps
But I like to see it
In others
I like to see it in you



Strong isn't it?


Hope you write again soon



Endy

My ears are burning. Thank you for that. Strange how people forget the things they love. Maybe because love brings pain along with it. I will work on letting go of that fear and maybe meet you here, someday, with a poem of my own. I will keep writing if you do....

It's a deal

This is for Joe





WHO SAW THE SIGNS?



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Who saw the signs?
Who saw the torch in a dark window
every night?
Who noticed the desperate light
blinking from a silent house
in the early hours?
Who wondered or cared
enough to look up at the window
in day-light?
Who saw the faded curtain pulled?
The boyish collection of junk
along the chipped window sill…


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Who thought
just a childish prank?
Who smiled and
recalled their own
childhood games?
Who wondered
at the nightly plea?
Or the bloody hand prints
on the window pane?
Who considered why?
Or dared to investigate?
Or turned a blind eye?

Was the moon the only one
who never forgot?

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Endymion 2006