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.