Top 10 of 2017

Stumbled across my blog? Wondering what to read. Well, here are the 10 poems I wrote that meant most to me in 2017, that I think you'll enjoy.

I just created something
Finally, I made a poem about creating poetry that I really liked. This one is fun to perform and, I think, fun to listen to as well. The aim is to connect with the listener, and that personal contact that exists makes it one I want to memorise and have on demand.

The secret about poetry
Following on, I was challenged by someone to make a poem for kids. Well, I interpreted that as writing as if I was getting to perform to kids. Intentionally keeping the language and rhymes 'simple' was fun, as was getting across this message.

Ledbury
This poem means a lot simply as the first proper religious poem I've written in a long time. The fact I got to perform it made it even sweeter. Given how important my faith is to me, being able to overcome that block and produce something meant a lot to me.

The Vow

While Ledbury was my first faith poem in a long time, this is my favourite one of this year. The only one where I got inspired, then actually took some time to hash it out and get it up to a standard I'm proud of.

Brave
Some people struggle in life. I'm glad I finally wrote something to demonstrate to them, if not that I can fully empathise, but that I realise what they do is difficult. I know this poem means a lot to some people close to me, so that means it means a lot to me, too.

Blessed with friends
On that note, this poem means a lot because I'm getting to talk about how much I value those close to me. I'm lucky with the friends I have, and sometimes I realise I don't put enough effort into these relationships. I'm weird in that I like meeting people occasionally, and find close relationships difficult. So this was to thank those that have stuck with me.

Did you not expect us
A lot of my poems tend to be positive. So having one which was trying to capture raw anger was certainly a challenge. Made after a chat with a friend, after trying to come up with a poem it would be good to film. Certainly something I want to do, some day.

The family trade
I like this one for the story it tells. I'm trying to get better at telling stories which are completely separate from me, and this was probably my best attempt at that this year. One I'll try to work on, but for now, I'm happy with this.

The books of war
If I ever perform this to you, I'll need five minutes. It has a really cool and unusual rhythm, which comes from the song the poem is named after. That makes it a lot of fun, but also a lot of work to do in a live setting. The challenge is good though, and I like how unique the poem feels to me.

Matter
Probably the poem that was in my head the longest. One of the toughest longform poems I did this year, and on a scale I'm not used to writing. Also an idea I was really happy to get out of my head. I'd tried to represent it in the poem before, but it didn't feel right. So it was good to just take another crack and get this one down.


Bonus: two more that meant a lot to me, but that no one else will enjoy because they were written with very specific people in mind.

The first among us
A poem written for my brother, performed at his wedding. It's hard for a poem to mean more than this. It's sad in one way - I really liked it, and I don't think I'll ever get to perform it again. But it was written for that moment, and I don't think I'd change it at all.

My best man speech
Being asked to be best man by my friend Joe was a special experience, and having the experience of performing at another wedding that year certainly helped. It was filmed for posterity, and I pretty much managed to not forget my lines. Almost.

Dead books

How do you feel, when you pick up the book of a dead author?
Particularly a book which you enjoy.

Go, do it now.
Realise that, though this person has passed from this Earth, they are not gone.
The book you hold in your hands is real.

It could take you on adventures, while keeping you right where you are.
You could take pilgrimage in it's pages, lose yourself in the prose.
Say hello to characters that will never have another sentence written for them.
Fall in love with the ideas, with the words. And then read the last line.

You are done. That book is done. You are not done.
Those characters are with you, and alive in you. You will take them with you.
And all those characters are and were, springs from a person no longer here.

There is power in books. In stories.
Do not take them lightly.
For though the authors may die,
   There is no such thing as a dead book.
They live on.

When are we honest

Yo. Who are you. I mean, who are you really
It's a question I've always approached somewhat queerly
Like, is this not me? Who I am each day?
Am I not myself if I live life in a comfortable way?

Yet I've heard it said, and heard it said sometimes by me
That most of the time in life what we say is untrustworthy
We have barriers, protections from a world always at war
Trying to break us down and then break us down some more

So we can't be honest. We can't speak our mind.
Except when we're in an intoxicated state of a kind.
Or we're tired. Or we're too young to know better.
Only when we're down can you trust our word to the letter.

So what? When I panic, or am stressed, I know I behave differently
Does that mean that these automatic choices represent me?
Rather than a decision I've thought about for hours on end?
Is that whole existence just a great game of pretend?

That doesn't me I can discard that me either
I'm accountable for them, and must act as healer
If I do wrong or behave in a way which harms
Because the conscious me wants to apply that balm

Here's the great truth. We are flawed. We are more than one thing.
We are our response to whatever challenges the world may bring.
Even if the responses would be different, they are the range of us,
But you can only ever act as you feel that you must.

I am thankful

This list is not complete. But it has now been started.

I am thankful that I was brave enough to give blood.
I am thankful that I was so unaccustomed to pain that the whole experience sucked quite a lot.
I am thankful that society doesn't dictate I have to remove my leg hair and that the word epilate is not in my regular vocabulary.
I am thankful I never had diabetes, so don't have to inject myself regularly.
I am thankful that people worked really hard on making diabetes a manageable problem, as some of my good friends are diabetics.
I am thankful for my friends.

I am thankful that my parents were around at most meals.
I am thankful I realised they are interesting to talk to.
I am really thankful for all the times they drove me places, but also that they let me cycle on my own, even though it worried them.
I am thankful for the financial security they provided, so I never had to learn how long after a missed bill payment the lights will go out.
I am thankful that I was able to focus on learning when growing up.
I am thankful I had teachers to help me learn.

I am thankful that I don't really panic in stressful situations.
I am thankful I learnt first aid, and that I haven't had to use it much.
I am thankful I don't give in to peer pressure.
I am thankful that I have so much to be thankful for.
I am thankful I have so many people to be thankful for.
I am thankful that this list isn't even complete. But I am thankful it has been started.

Today sucked

Dear Diary,
                  For me, today absolutely sucked.
Some days suck because things don't go your way and you're down on your luck.
This day was entirely my fault.

And everyone was so nice about it. People were polite the entire day through.
They had their smiles on their faces and were positive too.
I helped put up Christmas decorations, I put tinsel on windows
I got my hair braided by a girl I didn't previously know.
Most of these people didn't know the choice I had made.
I am thankful for all of them. But my day still sucked.

I walked slowly into the clean and sterile room.
I was told to read leaflets I had read 3 times before coming here.
Told to drink pleasantly sweet squash, a slightly different brand to the one I had been drinking all day.
I was quizzed as to which countries I had been to in the last year, and I felt like a jet-setter.
     I travelled further last year than I had ever travelled before.
I was quizzed about my medications. I couldn't remember the name of one.
     I ignored the part of my brain desperately giving me an "out".
     I looked up my surgery number online, and they gave me the information.
     The key to going one step further.
They told me I had passed. Yay.

Everytime I said I was nervous, someone comforted me.
Especially when the women took a blood sample from my finger.
I didn't realise pain could feel both electric and mechanical at the same time.
The sterile room was quite small.
A kindly man laid me down, and made conversation that wasn't forced.
Each step was small. To turn at any point would have been a bigger step.

I laid down.

The man brandished an instrument. It cleaned my arm. For around 30 seconds.
I was asked if I'd like to find out if I was eligible for a platelet donation. It's only one more needle.
I declined. It was a small step. The coward that I am likes small steps.
    The next step only required me not to move.
I made sure I was looking the other way.
The pain was not short. Even though I was told my vein was easy to find.
I had been told to ball up my hand. I could feel the stiffness in my forearm.
    I looked. After around five minutes, I looked. And took a picture.
    My static arm shows no cowardice in that picture.

Instead, I seem brave. Just like I did when I signed up in under ten minutes.
Just like the friends I had chatted to before, for whom it was no big deal.
Or the people in the room there with me.
Either side of me, a father and son donated. It was the son's fifth time. The father, many more.
For so many, this is a simple step.
I am not one of many.
When the machine mercifully beeped as my arm went cold.
I required half an hour longer to rise, due to feeling faint.
     Indicating I am one of the less than 2% of people to whom this happens.
And I left. A bandage to my arm and memories in my head.

Dear Diary,
                For me, today absolutely sucked.
Dear Diary,
                For someone else, today sucked a lot less.
Dear Diary,
                Today was one of the few days in my life I managed to make not about me.
Dear Diary,
                Today sucked. But it was a good day.


sign up at blood.co.uk
It's easy, simple, and for most people, is completely fine.

Hidden Layers

It's one of the laziest metaphors. And one I dislike the most.
See, lots of things have hidden meanings and layers, right?
And, like, onions have layers too, you know?
So, "it was layered like an onion".
So if I'm seeking to explain something deep and interesting and profound.
Maybe, I should do that thing some justice.


This world contains many wonders, not all of which are hidden
Though there is of course delight in finding secrets once forbidden

When you enter a new city you enter into new sights and sounds, It
hits you like a blast, your senses are overloaded, pounded
Welcome to the surface. To first impressions.
If this place is a teacher you're learning your first lessons

Take a trip on the transport give an ode to each road
The steps taken each day by those who call the city their abode

Then take a step down take a step in take another step deeper
Going to the places where this new place happens to keeps the
Things it puts on show, the history and attractions
Split the city into pieces and learn all its factions

But take a walk down any street in any city you will witness
People practising their passion, running a local business

Let's go inner again, lets meet the people inside
of the buildings, those residents that reside
In the city, and the city dwells in their personality
And then each person goes deeper than you will likely ever see

Then you meet those you call family, those you call friends
And you uncover more layers and you hope it never ends



Do you see now? Why I dislike the onion analogy so much?
See, each layer of an onion is just more onion.
The true hidden layers, the ones worth exploring?
They are so much more than that. So much more.
Don't do injustice to reality with lazy metaphors.
Instead, mirror it, and sink that next layer deeper.

The Vow

Dear Lord

I make this vow, as thanks for the Agape* you have shown me

To try to give back some love in exchange for you having known me

So, in the name of You I take Jesus as my witness

To try to involve my faith in all of my business

To not take worship lightly, yet not to consider it a chore

To be satisfied with my blessings, not always asking for more

To by proud of my faith and not hide it in shame

And accept, as a Christian, every act that I do is done in your name

I will take you in richer and poorer, in sickness and in health

Knowing that the relationship we hold is beyond medicine and wealth

I am needy - I need comfort, care, and forgiveness

I know if I am only bold enough to ask - you will give this

I will try my best to be faithful, and try my best to not stray

And that when I falter I ask you to help me back to live in your way

For my ashes are your ashes, my dust will be your dust

My words in this vow seek to sanctify this trust

As I lift up my passion and lift up my heart

My life is your life and in death we shall not part

I admit to believing these words as I'm saying them now

So in your name, Lord, I seal this vow

Amen

*Greek for the love between God and man. Not the English, agape, meaning opened wide. This would give the poem a different meaning.

-

Matthew 5:34-37 New International Version (NIV)

34 But I tell you, do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven, for it is God’s throne;35 or by the earth, for it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King. 36 And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black. 37 All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.[a]

-

With the above in mind, this poem is not to be taken as an actual oath. It is written to try to prioritise in my head that which I hold dear, rather than as a literal declaration. It was written to be symbolic of the vow taken at a wedding, hence a lot of the imagery.

Success

Let me sit you down. Let me be a little blunt.
Let me take you aside and put up no front.
What
makes
a successful life?
What would you say is reason enough for a meaningful stuff we claim to pursue does it seem honest and true
And look. I'm me and you're you through and through
We have different goals in life and different things we want to do
Guided by a mixture of morals and philosophy and fear and ambition
That widen our scope or limit our ambition

I remember, when I was much younger
Leaving school with a burning passion and hunger
Another young man, whom I don't know if I would call a friend
Left me a message at our journey's end
He wished me what he would say to be wishes of success
Even though it contained a future I didn't wish to possess
And nothing against him, he was only being polite
But, how many of us do that, each day and night?

We think our own path through life is surely the right one
That if we achieve it everyone will nod and say "nice one"
I've had friends who take paths I would only go down under duress
Yet, for them they seem happy. So, I just wish them the best
Even if I think they may be causing the planet some harm
Even if their goal causes me anger, I must stay calm
Because I have no right. They're achieving happiness
They take their route and I'll take mine I guess

It just made me think, how much of what I want to achieve
Is down to what success I think other people will perceive?

I hope it's some percentage between one hundred and zero
I like my friends. I value who they are and what they know
At the same time, we have different paths and places we want to go
So, I hope the success I achieve is at least somewhat my own
I hope the path is uncertain, at least somewhat unknown
I hope to make other people smile, and live a little longer
I hope my path can make me smarter and stronger
I don't wish for money or status, just enough to get by
So that, when I finally take the journey to the sky
When asked what I did, I hope I can say nothing less
Than to say I felt my life a success

Taste

You know that thing you think is awesome?
The one that blows your mind, every time?
Yeah. I tried it.
And I think it's alright. Like, not bad, not at all! Just, well, alright.

Here's what that doesn't mean - that it's any different to before.
It's still the awesome thing that makes you smile
Just a little bit, every time it crosses your mind.

It simply means that, on this thing, we have a different taste.

And I'll embrace the chance to let you try again.
Help me sit in your shoes
And I will gladly follow your instructions on how to to your laces.

But part of what makes our experience personal
     is that it is personal.
We all see things in different ways.

Maybe I would have enjoyed it if I were sixteen
    And still full of energy and anger
Maybe if I were a different gender. Or height. Or, well, not me.
Often, I get confused as to why I don't enjoy something as much as I think I should have.

Just, don't force it. I've yet to meet someone with whom I don't share any passions.
We will find that thing.
And on that thing we will share joy and excitement and beauty and memories.

But this one?
This is yours. And don't let that be taken away from you.

The lifeblood pumps

It's a conspiracy. But that doesn't make it any less true.
Just because it's only known to a select few
It defies all logic and knowledge and reason
Hey! Did you know the Earth's orbit isn't what causes the seasons?

I know I sound like a madman, and that I may well be
But please take a few seconds and listen to me
My statement is dramatic enough it may have given you pause
Now listen as I tell you the actual cause

There are pumps. They go way deep below the ground.
Below where oil and dinosaurs are found
They gather the heat of Earth's molten blood
And pump it slowly through the seas and the mud

The process it starts as quite a slow thing
Around the time you may know commonly as spring
The energy it imparts can prove of great worth
As it allows plants to grow and animals to give birth

It quickens, intensifies, and reaches it's peak around July
But this is science - this energy can't just instantly die
Instead it is pumped back, and the pipes tumble and Fall
Being sent back to the core of molten halls

There it is rejuvenated, with oxygen and other things
The pumps of this lifeblood, they squeal and sing
The surface is cold, the cycle will begin again from the start
And know you know the inner workings of our own planet's heart

I made this poem in collaboration with my cousin Farai. Our topic was "The change of the season", and I was inspired by her use of a heart to show the different parts of the year to write this year.

The Debug

Everything is wrong

You know this. Every thing is wrong.
The problem is insurmountable, the issues uncountable
That which you thought infallible is now not working. At. All.
And you're trying to figure out why

Maybe it's the issue of the perfect storm
Where circumstances coalesce so the World is torn
Maybe it's the one thing you never noticed before
Working so hard but couldn't take it anymore
Maybe it's in fact just a combination
Of one thing two things several locations
So how you gonna stop this and take it down
Lessen your blood pressure and fix your frown

Welcome to the debug.

Welcome to the debug there's no luck just logic and hard tack
Sticking with a mission to revert your whole system from whack
Into the clicking grinding efficient machine
Where everything sparkles and the workings are clean
You check each part use your brain and heart
The issue mechanical, the problem infantile, a design too radical, you'll be here a while.

Every solution is another debug down the line
But IT'S STILL PROGRESS down a line in time
Everything you do, as long as it's done right
Is another hour less you're working into the night
You've just got to get yourself together - you've fought this war before
You've never thought about giving up and you'll give 'em what for
So don't give up my friend, 'cause you can't lose heart
Beginning right now you've got a debug to start.

Fluid Dynamics

Yo Yo, Mansfield Represent.

Although many of you may not know it, I consider myself a poet,
And when I give my rhymes its like fluid in a pipe - I like to flow it.
But there's societal shear stress, pushing back at me
But no matter how fast I spit lines they still affect my profile in velocity
Yet no matter how much they make my skin friction crawl
They can't compete against a potentially inviscid poetic addiction at all
If you have a central passion, you'll always find boundary interference
But overcoming this stereotyping drag is just the human experience
So I'm thinking you should wake up from your slumber, go out there and do it,
Or just go drinking and be like Reynold's with his number - never counting units.
Just do whatever it is you want without resistance, regret or fear
After all, you are the central flow, you are the person now in the know, you are an Engineer.

A little bonus poem from November 2012 I found when clearing through my emails. Written for Prof. Tom Povey, who set all the engineers a challenge to write a poem on fluid dynamics. He actually got me to perform mine in front of the lecture hall (as opposed to the rest which he read out). I think he called it "the first genuinely poetic submission he had received in his years of doing it".

Blessed with Friends

I've been blessed with friends who are both big and small
They are really quite different and I love them all.

Some of my friends, I smile each time I see
Because I forgot about them temporarily
And then they're there, and I'm like "Oh right,
There's that person again who I really like"

I've only got one or two people I chat to each day
Most other friends I let go about their own way
And when I meet them again we always get along well
As they've accrued so many interesting stories to tell

I have friends who are writers, I have friends who sing
I know those who are employed, those who do their own thing
Friends who glide through life, and of course those who battle
Friends in the city and friends who live with cattle

Some of my friends, will end up politicians and rulers
Most of my friends, compared to me are much cooler
They're smarter and fitter, more attractive and quick-witted
Some will let me stay over if their partner's permitted

I don't care if they're rich. I don't care if you're smart.
I care if we make memories that imprint on my heart.
I care that you've set time to spend with me with something fun to do.
I care if you've worked hard at trying to be you.

My friends are a rainbow. And I find you all a lot of fun.
You're different and weird. And I love every last one.

The Roof of Friends

There is a joy I feel, residing under the roof of friends
The feeling of a place well lived-in by others
The extension of their self, to give you a place to rest
Somewhere secure. Somewhere safe. Somewhere with personality.

I don't mind if the dishes aren't done. Or if it's a little dirty
I care that we can sit, and you stop being someone I used to know
That you trust and value me enough to open your doors
To offer me a favour, as I journey through time

Let us share a movie. A game. A story of what life is like
Build each other up for the battering we get until we next meet
There are some places I will never live. Out of choice, or fate
But passing through becomes much more personable this way

It makes me much more inclined to make an excuse to pass through again
So I can re-feel that joy, by staying under the roof of a friend


Thank you, to all my friends and family who put up with me.

Turning of the Season

Spring is promise and resolutions
It's new life and bold solutions
It's when Earth turns its face from the cold
When the fresh story of the year starts to unfold

Summer, really, is all about the execution
When any person will take any solution
We're too warm and satisfied to care about danger
We're happy to party and chat to a stranger

Autumn, I feel, is growing caution
The realisation things aren't always so awesome
The knuckle down, the learning of a trade
The realisation it's good, sometimes, to be afraid

Winter has a cold and gusty arrival
Welcome to the season of grit and survival
And yet it's also the season of hidden fun and joy
The battle between external adult and internal girl or boy

As a planet, we need this change and transition
The seasons change without condition
We ride the changes, ever longer and longer
But through them, we can only ever get stronger

Modern Day Aids

It's tangible, this inhaler I hold in my hand
How it affects my day, it affects my plans
How occasionally, I need to receive
A drug that helps me gasp and breath

And my aid is simple, and hidden away
Allows me to cope with life my way
I don't get questions like those with a crutch
Asking how it affects my life and such

Or those with glasses or a device in the ear
Necessary to help them see and hear
It's quite amazing, what we've managed
We can walk around perfectly fine with the aid of a bandage

And sometimes, we don't even see the crutch people hold
Sometimes it's too internal for an observer to behold
We're the modern generation. Stressed but we do as we're paid
As much as we can with our medical aids

Two Chances

Sometimes you don't get two chances.

The sweetest moments in life? When you put it on the line.
The go big go home go for glory go for it time
It's the build up that often hurts you the most.
The time you spend panicking prepping - when you're there you coast

If it goes wrong, it goes wrong. Time will pass.
We've all had a time when we've fallen flat on our ass.
Then you have to let go, there's no point in trying to dwell.
Unless you enjoy putting yourself through hell.

But, well, it's worth it. Believe me, it's worth it when it pays.
When you lay your self bare for all and you Raise. Up.
Prove to the doubters and the believers that you were right
When you blast off and fill up the stage on a night
When you show people something they've never even seen before
When you steady yourself and settle the score
When your moment arrives, and you seize it with both hand
When nothing in this world can put a stop to your plans

Because sometimes you don't get two chances.
And you prove that you only needed one.

A chance to rest

This poem is not deep.
It is not meant to be difficult.

This poem is a chance to rest.

To lay your head back.
To understand some things don't have reasoning.
To stop worrying, for a short while.

This poem is a chance to rest.

I know. You've been overly busy recently.
People expect a lot of you. And you keep providing.
Right now, in this instant, nothing is required.
Empty your mind.

This poem is a chance to rest.

Because you've got difficult times ahead.
Because no shelter is permanent.
You must seize any opportunity you can.

This poem is a chance to rest.

Stop thinking. Relax.
And rest.

Back to the Past

Man, it's the super power of which we'd all boast
The one day-to-day that we'd value the most
What if, rather than being super strong or super fast
You could step back in time and alter the past?

Currently, you take a retrospective intellect
But with respect can make no effect
On the mistakes you made, the time you mispoke
Well don't be afraid, lets go for broke

Because now you have a retroactive fact-of-the-matter
Way to be active in the past, change the latter
Just be careful, heed my warning
It's good to let the day refresh each morning

I tell you what, if I had this power
I'm not sure I'd ever live more than an hour
Sometime the past is better left lived
Sometimes there's no use in regretting what you did

I think a window to the past, means I'd only every stare that way
I'd never plan, only try and redo every each day
And I realise, I would not be able to handle this great responsibility
Instead, I'll just do what I can with the time that has been given to me

My Best Man Speech

Dedicated to Beth and Joe. A very lovely couple, who I am honoured to know.

I looked no tips up online for this speech. There is no "top ten best best man quotes" here. So, let me be open and honest, right from the start.
You've never heard anything like this before. It's right from my heart.

And my heart believes there is an optimal length of time for best man speeches. And that that time, is roughly four and a half minutes
Because, between the food and other speeches, that's as much time as any reasonable person should give it.

And you're all reasonable people. You got drinking to do, there's dancing to be had (and here I'm looking at the Dads). You all want to tell the couple how much fun they've got ahead.
Well tough luck. Because this is my four and a half minutes. And I'm going to talk about the fun we've already had instead.

Well, I'd best get going. I'm wasting time. I'm guessing some of you have already stopped caring.
For those who can, hang on tight. This is one hell of a speech I've been preparing.

See, I've always found best man speeches sort of weird.
Because, even to the groom, as best man, you are at most the *second* best person here.

Because the best is the bride who is Beth
And God Bless I wouldn't couldn't wish to be anything less than second-best.

Because she's in first place. She's smart, creative, wonderful and beautiful too.
I wish I looked so good, people paid me to look as good as they do.

And now as best man (and second best person, I'm faced with a difficult decision.
In my position it's tradition to seek to cause some attrition.

An embarrassing story for the room to mock the groom. And believe me, I've got one or two
But if you ask me for stories about how great they are then I've more than just a few

And honestly, I think I'd much rather just say
How honoured I am to be here on their wedding day

See, if I wanted to mock it would be out of jealousy and spite
For how cute the two of them look together tonight

And it's not just about looks. Here, let me take you way back
To when we were all a few years younger, and Facebook was the new black

We were idealistic, impressionable, and yet somehow still fixed in our ways
When we could know nothing on a subject, and still opinionate for days

We would be late for class, because we were determined to go and walk and get pastries in the snow
And if you ask why we didn't cycle, it was because Joe's bike wheels had been stolen a few weeks ago

But this isn't a story about how incompetent Joe is. It's about how he's good at heart.
Because he let his scavenger friends strip the bike for parts.

And we'd give him lifts places with a croggie (or backie, or a ride on the back of our bicycle machines)
And if the ride was so rough it made you drop things, well, that's just life it seems

We'd make fun of each other. As an outside, you make think our relationship started to sour
When, strictly as a challenge, he managed to show me the bird on a bus for an entire half hour

But it was all fun and games, we would push each other in most things we'd do
Like word games, and one-nils, and all the niche facts that we knew

But we'd travel and explore, we'd go to public science lectures as teenagers, because we were nerds
We'd learn and discuss all the ways that life was absurd

I believe it set up both of us well, when we left for University
And Joe is so smart, he aced a degree he didn't even need in Biochemistry

And now we meet in Oxford colleges and 5 star hotels
Not to mention fancy French restaurants as well

But we always had our barriers. Like I was the one who could eat almonds, and was good at sport.
Joe was the attractive fashionable cool one who was a hit with the ladies, which was always a rough deal I thought.

I actually remember helping him fight girls off. And I wondered who was the girl he dedicated his life to so early. And then I met Beth, and learned how she was really creative and arty.
And we could both discuss culture and hang out at murder mystery parties.

I've seen them grow into the most wonderful pair
While some things change, most notably Joe's hair

In a ever-changing world. I've known the two of them would be great
And I know Joe would hate me for saying it was fate

But I think we can all agree, how amazing they seem to be
And please take this not as jealousy, but honesty

Now I've got to wrap up. My four and a half minutes are through.
I'll leave the rest of the compliments up to all of you.

I started off this speech by saying how weird it was to call myself best man
But I'll settle instead for calling myself their biggest fan


If you want to see me performing this, skip to the 18-ish minute mark here 

A gut reaction

It may just be a passage to lead to the butt but

I have a message you should trust your gut

Even though this logic may seem insane

I often think it better not to trust my brain

So many times, without much reasoning

I feel that “my sandwich might need some spicy seasoning

Maybe I should buy this thing I don’t need

Maybe I should do this fun misdeed”

My brain says “no, you’re being unreasonable

Some of these choices aren’t even feasible

There may be some things that I don’t know

But this choice should almost certainly be no”

And when my system one has won

I find myself having much more fun

Whether the decision is made in day or made in night

I’ve grown to trust my gut to be right

And so my daughter, yes I’m speaking to you

There may be no individual reason this statement is true

But believe me when I say I trust utterly that which my gut happens to think

Which is that your room contains far too much pink

Make it honest

Whatever you say about me behind my back, make it honest.
Look, I know that I haven't been universally blessed
I've done a whole lot of really stupid things
I know my voicebox cracks somewhat when it sings
I know that sometimes I seek to be the centre of attention
Just know that I honestly have the best reasonably good intentions

So, if I do ever come up in conversation, for one reason or another
Firstly, I'm happy I'm worth the time.
Whether it's as a friend, a weirdo or a brother
Or you're not even an acquaintance of mine.
I'm happy you thought of me, whatever the reason
And I simply give this request
When you talk of me, no matter the season
Say what you think represents me best

Don't hide it. Don't act like a computer.
Say what you actually want to say.
Then maybe, someday in the future,
You can say it to me someday.

Lord you gave me gifts

Lord you gave me gifts,
    Lord you gave me gifts,
Lord you gave me more than I can ever wish for
I'm trying to live up to all you've given me to live for
Even though I may seem to just be demanding more
I'm thankful for them all, there's not a one to ignore
If I'm to find a reason I was put here for

I know you've gifted me, in so many ways
You've given me a lot of talents, given me a lot of days
But it was never full blown, always just a spark
That I had to develop with a little kick-start
So that it could grow as I get into full flow
To a talent that I always seemed to know
And sometimes that's the really tough thing
Like is this a true spark, or am I just wishing?

And I have to respect, that some gifts may not be for me
You've granted me many wonderful friends and family
And they've all got their own gifts and talents too
Which they'll develop in ways I could never think to
Make new art which is drawn from *their* hearts each day
Take a role I should accept was never my part to play

This life is so rich, because there's so many people aspiring
It would be so easy to do nothing and just sit back admiring
Instead, I've got to get out of bed
Try to sort out whatever's in my head
So I can work at my part as well
I'll have my moment and sound my bell
Work hard at these gifts you have given
Those that make life so much more worth living

So this is my worship, in the only way I know how
Living out my gift in every way you will allow
So Lord I say without being dismissed
Lord, I'm thankful for your gifts

It happened in black and white

There's a lot of detail in the world.
A lot of colour filling in the gaps.
There are advertisements in every space.
There are words in every silence.

He was lucky. He had the filter.
When something happened,
When a quick response was needed,
It. Switched. On.

Then the world would be clear
The easy path would be here
And he would instantly know
The direction to go
To solve the question
To make issues lessen
To stop things going wrong
And turn the colour back on

And then life was full again, of the unnecessary things.
He could sit back and enjoy all the nuances.
And, it used to be every once in a while.
It used to be a luxury.

The issue with any problem,
With any temporary fix,
Is it's not to long until it becomes permanent.

And nothing, nothing, will do that more than a child.
And then he couldn't be wild.
And now every moment he's ready.
Now he always has to keep steady.
He never get's to enjoy.
And nuances with his boy.
He's always ready to save.
Superdad. Always the slave.

Then it's needed elsewhere
To help him to care
It's needed at work
And to stop him being a jerk
Needed for lack of sleep
Needed so he could keep
Himself from going off the kilter
He needed. His. Filter.

The secret about poetry

Some things, are clearly for grown-ups.
Dark Chocolate. Long books with very small text.
The drinks Mum and Dad keep in the cellar.
Responsibilities.

Uggh.

The thing is, some things that you think are for grown-ups - kids can enjoy too.
Movies with a lot of blood and guns and guts. Adults say kids shouldn't watch them, but I say with certainty kids would love them.
The same with expensive food and make-up. Kids enjoy them, far more than old people would, in some cases. Even if they don't always use them as they were intended.
In each case. Grown-up adult people said "This is Ours. This is not for children.".
Here's a secret. You were never told poetry was one of those things which was just for grown-ups.
You just assumed it must be.

You assumed it must be, because it was read by boring people.
You assumed it must be, because there seemed to be a uniform of jackets and smart trousers. And uniforms are definitely for grown-ups.
You assumed, because they insisted on reading boring poetry.
And, if there's one thing all adults are, it is boring.

Here's the thing. Poetry isn't boring. Not all of it anyway.
If I say "You are the master of your fate, the captain of your soul!" - that's poetry.
I tell you to "Take the road less travelled" - then explore poetry with me.
Poetry can make you big. It can make you fall in love.
It can inspire your football team, or be sung on a stage.
Poetry doesn't have to rhyme. It also doesn't have to be boring.
It can, be really, really, cool.

Here's an example of some poetry.

You are wonderful.
You, yes you, have made people smile.
You have told someone something they didn't know
 - and they were smarter after, because they met you!
You can make words. Some are good. Some are bad.
And, in the right order, they can be really powerful.
You have poetry inside you.
And you are not boring. And neither are the words you will write, and the things you will create.
So go out. Use your words. Share your poetry.
And don't let adults keep this secret to themselves anymore.

The lost girl

The stars seemed to twinkle. The moon was bright.
We talked too long through a too-short night.
We were barely distinct shapes, voices in the dark.
We sat on seats of moss and bark.
Gathered as friends round a diminishing campfire.
We told tales to cheer and inspire.
One told a tale that made every person there cry.
One told of a man who would never die.
I ventured a story, very well told.
Of how I imagined I would be when I'm old.
It was universally agreed that it took second place.
To the person whose story will now fill this space.

He told of a girl. No, not a story like that.
This girl was quite pretty, but he ignored that fact.
This was joyous story which was sad to its core.
About a friend he didn't get to see anymore.

She was smart, but not in an academic way,
The sort of girl who knew every game you could play.
She didn't do well in school, because she gave too much time,
To listen to people, whether they'd boast or they'd whine.
She never realised, but whenever she was in the place,
Everyone there would have a smile on their face.
And she wouldn't be the center, seeking attention,
She'd say just a few words, and guide the conversation.
Give a new topic or fun thing to try,
And let everyone else explore the how and why.

My friend told of one time, he'd just lost his sister,
He'd cut himself off the world, that's how much he missed her.
He'd been sitting alone at lunch, as he had done for days,
When the girl came along and sat in front of his gaze.
And he couldn't remember the precise words she said,
But a mist and a fog seemed to lift from his head.
What's worse is, she didn't even seem to know what she'd done.
She'd just chatted to him because she'd thought it'd be fun.

Now, what happened to this girl of so many powers?
I'd assumed she'd got lost in castles and towers.
Lost from this world because she'd caught a fairytale's curse,
The actual truth ended up being much worse.

The girl, quite simply, grew up.
She got really stressed with exams.
She tried to find a job, so she could have some money for college.
She was told what to say. Told how to stay in line.
She did too. Got a decent degree. Got a job that pays the rent.
But she doesn't make people smile in the same way anymore.

My friend has a strained smile. He was determined to make it stick.
He said they still speak once a while. It's usually quite quick.
It's a little bit strained, but he can't let it go.
Determined to talk to the girl that he used to know.

He never revealed to the girl what she used to be.
She never really realised, he didn't want to seem guilty.

He told the story well, so we applauded his tale.
While the man sat in the past, stoic and pale.

The night was not always meant to be slept through

The Organised Masses™ insist that the day holds many hours.

That you should rise early to unleash your powers.

That the World looks beautiful at 6am.

That they can rise early, and that we should join them.

Now, I don’t attempt to debate or dispute.

That mornings work well, or that sunrises are cute.

Nor can I refute all of the work they get done.

Compared to those that stay in bed until one.

They seem to run the country, and most of the Earth too.

My only response is – the night was not always meant to be slept through.

So here’s to the night crawlers

The partiers, the insomniacs, and ballers

Those who know whether the moon is about to wax or wane

Those who live life with no temporal refrain

Who chat to the late hours, because you don’t want to give up on a conversation

Those with a deadline, waylaid by unwilling procrastination

The young girl, waiting patiently for a reply with a smile

From a young man, separated by six hours and a mile

The dancer who lives for moments that don’t happen in the day

The station guard, helping the final few make their way

The shop attendant who needs the money for a car

The jogger who stops to find the north star

The volunteer, up late to stop a caller coming to harm

The couple who stay awake in each other’s arms

The artist who needed that perfect shade of deep blue

Believe me – the night was not always meant to be slept through

The first among us

This poem is dedicated to the first among us,
He's the one who went first, and he caused enough fuss,
That our parents couldn't muster as much energy to be annoyed at us when they asked "Why?"
At the silly stuff we'd do under their tired eyes,
Because he went first, and he took the worst,
He was the first among us, and the first on this Earth.

He, he was the first to go to school,
Set out on the challenge of learning and trying to being cool,
Man he earned his way, he couldn't be a fool,
And just copy an older sibling's homework if he couldn't do it all,
And he's a perfectionist, our brother - so he always tried his best.
He was the first among us to take life's tests.
And he was the first to ace life's tests!

He, he was the first to leave the home,
Go out on his own, try to make it alone,
Packed up his bags, went to university,
Head down, a degree in pharmacology,
But he also got great friends there. And he learnt things I'll never know.
The first among us. And still he's still got so far to go.

He, he was an inspiration to me, and he got me learning,
He got my brain and my other muscles working,
Showed me the power of strength of mind,
Hinted that hip-hop has much great music to find,
And when I left home, you can bet he was nearby and had led the way there too.
He is my brother. And Robin. I'm so proud of you.

Because,
You were the first one among us here on this Earth.
You were the first to start earning and prove your worth.
You were the first to go out and leave the house.
And now you're the first to go and get a spouse.
And while we're on the subject...
What an amazing, wonderful, beautiful, charming woman you've found. This is Sarah and she has dedicated her life to caring.
It's unfair! You make such a fantastic pairing.
But for my brother to be leading the way? The first among us, let me say I expect nothing less.
But to the both of you - best of wishes, and God Bless.


This was a very special poem to get to write and perform. To my brother Robin, and his new wife Sarah - thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to express just how amazing you both are. Have wonderful lives together.
Also, this poem was very much written to be performed, so it doesn't really work on the page. Sorry about that. But not really.