poetry-and-prose

Apologies to Minnie Louise Haskins

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 16:17:33 +0100

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year
'Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.'

And he replied "go into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.'

So I went forth and I asked of the man before putting my hand into the hand of God
'Are you sure you don't have a light? Maybe a torch or something?
I'd just feel more comfortable if I could see where I was going.'
The man at the gate of the year just shook his head.

So I continued. 'What if God doesn't have a torch?
Isn't that the blind leading the blind?'
And when the man didn't answer I became a little shirty.

'Look "man at the gate of the year" I pass through your gate every dozen months or so.
Every time you tell me to put my hand into the hand of God and he doesn't even show.
I'm sick of it!'

That year I found my own light. Not only can I see my own way,
But it's much easier for me to search for God.

He Stands Alone

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 07:52:37 +0100

He stands alone because no one will come near.
He stands alone, unloved, unfriended and silent.
He stands alone, looking and searching for anyone who may want to talk to him.
He stands alone, patiently waiting for the opporunity to arise for a game to start.

Before anyone can come to his aid, he is replaced.
Just like he knew he would be when the time reared its ugly head and told him he had failed.
He will have to do it all again.
Over and over again.

Dear Everyone

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 19:01:13 +0100

Dear Everyone,

How are you? I saw you today and you seemed all over the shop. Just thought I'd write you a letter as there were a few things on my mind. Firstly, thanks very much for all your help and support. There is no way I could be where I am today without you. It's not only the money of course, but the emotional support you've given me. It has been invaluable.

Also, I enjoy your company. I particularly love our conversations and your sense of humour. I know you're having a hard time at the moment, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. Just as I know when I find things hard you'll be there for me. I believe it can get better, especially if we stick together.

But there is a couple things you do that kinda annoy me a little and I can't keep it back any longer. Can you stop judging yourself? It's bad enough when you judge, but it really grates my goat when you do it in on behalf of the evening. I love him too, but I can't even fathom that I know who he wants me to hate or exclude. But from what I've been told I think it's actually no-one. Another thing, when I see you getting on or off the tram, don't press the button until it's green. Every time you do it before - and it's every time I see you in the city - you look like a complete moron.

Despite all of that, I do love you. You are my best friend, my family, my colleague, my sibling, my mother and my father. All I wish is that you'd give yourself credit to handle the truth and have the patience and understanding to accept it. Just give 'em a go, you know?

I got a bit soppy there, but it's something I really needed to say to you. You have helped me find my feet in this crazy world and I'm really enjoying my time in it with you. I'll see you tomorrow mate, don't be a stranger 'ey?

- Dan

Love unrequited, Elizabeth?

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 17:29:31 +0100

My stab at Shakespearean language from a few years back. I was quite proud of this poem at the time I wrote it and wish I still felt the same.

Love, why dost thou mock me so?
Thou art a fickle friend indeed.
Running hot and cold within the same day, nay hour.

Is it thy jovial plan to torment me so?
Or shall I just sit upon my shelf until thou art ready to love me once more?
Thine tongue singeth one note, yet my ear heareth another.

Why dost thou thus?
What say you?

Thou speake, yet speake in circles still.
Thy words do bring a false heart to such a boy as I.

I cannot but hope for a love such as thine.
I will not sleep peacefully lest death or thou art mine.

Poetry Rampage I

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 15:39:06 +0100

This is a poem from a poetry rampage I did with a friend of mine a number of years ago. It seems like I've never given titles for things. I think everything I've put on here so far I've had to think of a title for it. Having said that, this poem gets no title!

Nothing is forever.
no-one is immortal.
Impermanence in everything.
Sometimes it's just hard to remember.

There's no getting off this kind of ride.
Is it for pleasure or is it for pain?
I don't know. I don't think I can.

The end may be a beginning of other things to come.
You'll have to keep on playing.

No-one gave us instructions, no-one told us the rules.
No-one even asked me if I even wanted to play or not!
Somehow I don't think it would have made a difference if they had.

Keep on trying for something else. It's all a bit hit and miss. With an infinity of combinations for infinite results.
Would I know if I got the right one? Would they tell me if I'd got it?

An unforgettable dream

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 15:49:43 +0100

Here's another story that I wrote in school a few years back. I remember it was inspired by either a dream I had or a feeling I had when waking up in the middle of the night. It's not that I don't remember which it was, more that I was never sure.

Awaken

I woke up in the deepest, darkest part of the night and realised the most important thing of my life. Everything so far in my life had been a dream. Waking from my dream I found that my senses were heightened ten-fold. My head had never felt so clear, the thoughts in my mind did not circle chaotically. It was like a finished puzzle. A beautiful, intricate, geometric design. I felt content. Sadness, depression. They were both distant things of the past that were quickly beginning to forget.

And; then I heard it. It was music, the most beautiful melody that had ever existant. It was so complicated that I couldn't even begin to descibe the layers upon layers of harmonies and counter melodies. I thought to myself if I could see the music it would look exactly like the intricate shape in my mind. As that thought began to join and merge into the shape, I heard it play in the song.

I felt as if in mere moments I was both creating and destroying whole universes. Worlds that I would never be able to see and physically feel. Yet I felt... I felt one with them. I was the wind and the tree it blew through. I was sight and all there was to see. I was love, hate, the shadow and the light. I had been to the deepest part of the ocean and the furthest reaches of the galaxies. And; I was happy.

I didn't know how long I had been awake. Was it an hour or a day that had passed? I couldn't tell the difference between no time at all or a million years. I couldn't stay awake any longer and I decided to rest my head back down. Somehow I inately knew I couldn't stay.

I had to leave the only real thing I had ever known and go back to my so called life. The land of dreams. Non one will believe where I had been even if I could effectively describe it. And honesty, why should they? Would you want to believe that all of this, in its so called "majesty", was only some kind of joke? Not even practice, but some kind of game to entertain someone else.

Just rest 'til Monday

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 15:38:28 +0100

Found this story last night while going through a box o' memories that usually stays under my bed. I believe it was done some time in Senior school. It didn't come titled, so I've decided on:

Just rest 'til Monday

I'd never felt this way before and it most definitely wasn't fun. Sitting on the loo, again. NOTHING! What I thought was constipation turned out to be much more serious. When Mum asked me what I wanted for tea, she knew something was wrong. What kind of teenage boy in his right mind answers, "I'm not hungry, I think I'll go to bed" at five o'clock in the afternoon?

Time's kinda choppy there 'cause I'm not sure if Mum let me rest or not, but the next important event was going to the pharmacy. Who basically told us that I should rest and see how I felt after that.

If we had taken her advice, I'd be dead!

On my request Mum took me to the Doctors. After the usual wait I was taken to the usual office and also, like usual, it was a doctor I did not recognise. He looked to be in his forties and he sounded like he was from Russia. His medical certificate confirmed this fact. After a urine sample and an uncomfortable test I'd rather never talk about again he sent me straight to the hospital. "Do not go home, go straight to emergency".

I had no idea what was wrong, but I'm glad we hadn't waited until Monday like the pharmacist said.

The pain in the side of my gut was now excruciating. I felt like someone had sliced and continued to slice into my stomach. They say that the pain from appendicitis is the closest thing a man will get to child birth. If that's really so, you can call me freakin' Mama!

It was - I don't know - about three hours later when the surgeon finally arrived. Being rolled into theatre was the strangest combination of pain and relief I'd ever felt. I was given another form to sign; it was something about the anaesthetic. I didn't, no I couldn't understand the doctor's explanation because of the continuous pain.

I didn't sign, but instead asked the nurse what it was about. Mum looked at me in a way I'd never seen before and pleaded "just sign it Dan... Please". It was fear, my mum was afraid. What was going on? I signed the paper and all the medical team went into action putting a gas mask over my face. The nurse told me to count backwards from one hundred. By the time I had asked, "Why would I want to?" and wondered "am I going to die?" I was out like a light.

Apparently, it was an extremely messy procedure. I wouldn't know because I was sleeping. My appendix had burst not long before I had gone to see the first doctor, who incidentally was kind enough to come see me after the surgery.

I didn't mind recovery for at least three reasons. One, with appendicitis unlike other -itises I could eat whatever I wanted, which was usually better than food at home. Two, it was one of the times the family seemed together again. Mum and Dad didn't fight about divorce settlements and I could choose to see what, or rather whoever, I wished. Not that I had to be selective, Vicki, my pseudo step-mother never came to visit anyway. I'm guessing because of Mum. Lastly, morphine is a whole lot of fun! While lying still in bed, morphine made me feel like the world was rushing towards me. Best drug induced buzz ever. If you ever get the chance to try Morphine without having your appendix explode, go for it. Go break your legs or something.

Creative Writing

Thu, 11 Jun 2009 06:54:43 +0100

This isn't strictly a blog, but I think that the blog format will be the easiest way to maintain this part of the site. As you have more than probably worked out, this part of the site is for creative writing. I'll put up short stories, plays and other things I write when i either a) write something I like enought to share or b) find something I've written in the past that I like enough to share. Come to think of it, c) Things other people have written that I like enough to share. Happy reading :)