Top 10 of 2020

2020 was a rough year, globally. For me, I felt that was true from a creative standpoint as well. Yet, looking back at what I manged to make, I am glad I made the effort to make myself keep writing. I have a number of poems I'm very proud of, and I adored getting one final live performance in February before things began to change.

2020 will always remind me of a few things. I managed to hand in my thesis, do my corrections, and finally pass my doctoral degree. As such I had to start looking towards the future. The stress and uncertainty is reflected in a number of my poems for this year. Additionally, Covid-19 caused a worldwide pandemic, and much of my poetry during the first lockdown reflects that since I couldn't think of anything else. It led to me travelling a lot locally, and a lot less travelling beyond that which I could cycle. 

More than any other year, I look back at my poetry in 2020 and I see who I was reflected in it. Here are the 10 I want to most remember.

1. When the History Books are Written

Written as my first response to the pandemic. There is optimism in this poem that I still want to hold myself to. It is odd to think that the world is going through a historic change - we are often prone to hyperbole, so sometimes it feels like we are *always* going through world-changing times. I was still writing up at this point, so my thesis still held a lot of my focus and attention. The sheer impact of things wouldn't hit me until later.

2. Refugee's Pain

As the pandemic went on, you saw every hot take imaginable. Fresh perspectives became hard, particularly ones that were actually useful. As such, I am very proud of this poem. We all lost privileges we had taken for granted in order to keep others safe, and so we were closer than we had ever been before to many in the world. 

3. Through the Wires

It feels odd that this was written in February, but this pre-Covid poem about the wonders of electronic communication captures a lot of the feel of 2020. We learned how limited our energy was, despite how easy technology made it for us to stay in touch. And, as such, how vital it was we used well the energy we had.

4. Planets don't Think

I found myself doing a lot less of my classic hip-hop-y style this year. Maybe it's because I've been taking life a bit slower. However, it's still my favourite style to write in and I do life both the rhythm and theme of this poem. The first of a fair few end-of-the-world style poems.

5. If the World Does End

A short, sweet poem about optimism in the face of uncertainty. Can't think why I was inspired to write this poem in this of all years.

6. Peace is not the Absence of Noise

I like poems that help me express my philosophy on a subject more clearly, and this was certainly one of those times. The idea of peace as a harmony rather than silence is very appealing to me, and a concept I'd like to hold myself to.

7. The Mountain

I wrote a lot of poems about future jobs and prospects, but this is the imagery I like the best. I was fed up with CVs, and trying to big myself up. Seeing us all as climbing a mountain - and realising that just looking at the people highest up the mountain can be misleading - was a refreshing way to view the struggle.

8. How to Rest

A big theme for my year, and one I wrote a lot of poems about. How to make myself rest again after being tuned so high for so long. Not a new theme for me, but for when this poem was written I think it'll still hold a special place.

9. Ow, My Legs Hurt

Speaking of rest, I ended up doing a *lot* of cycling this year. This is a short, silly, and quite sweet poem that I really enjoyed. Sometimes the only thing on your mind is the pain in your legs, and so that's what you write about.

10. Stretch

A final one, from a theme by a friend. We all are feeling a little cooped up this year. Remembering to stretch - in all the ways you can stretch - has been a useful thing. And a nice thing to end on.

Honourable mentions: Matchsticks, a lovely poem about the different forms of human potential; The Early Bird Gets the Worm, a re-telling of a very popular idiom; and Sport is a Fantasy, a concept I really liked that I may revisit at some point in future.

Christmas 2020

To my nephew and my niece, Theo and Rosie

You probably won't remember this when you're as old as me

But I am spending a lovely Christmas with both of you

So this is a poem written just for you two

It was the Christmas that we all spent on our own

Encouraged to stick with those within our home

There was your Mum and Dad, and my Mum and Dad

(or, if you prefer, your Granny and Grandad)

It was my first Christmas in a long time that was work-free

Having (finally) wrapped up a very stressful degree

The previous year I had writing my thesis

So this year was always going to be a comparative bliss

So even though you were as loud as kids should be

Hanging out with both of you still made me happy

Figuring out the basics of how to walk, talk, and eat

Hankering for any melon or mince pie treat

I don't know what you'll both find as your future groove

But, once both of your conversation skills improve

I hope we reach out to each other and don't be lazy

And then, providing my memory isn't too hazy

I can tell you how much love was there

How your parents doted with tiredness and care

That, despite the circumstances and winter weather

I can remind you of a lovely Christmas we all spent together

With much, much love,

    Your Uncle Harry

It didn't have to be this way

It didn't have to be this way

The circumstances that led up to this day?

We could've done this thing, that thing there

Something different, somehow, somewhere

It has to be this way

The situation we face today?

It wouldn't be right if we didn't accept with grace

The actions that took us to this time and place

It doesn't have to be this way anymore

We don't have to act like we did before

Let's take our medicine and sow the seeds

To give the world the future it needs

I can't be part of everyone's story

One of the hardest challenges that I've found before me
Is finding out that I can't be part of everyone's story

Everyone one I meet, no matter who or how

Is weaving a fantastic tale that crests and bows

A tale of survival, heroes, and so much more

A tale each like nothing I've ever heard before

Filled with rich characters, complex motivations, and breathtaking twists

You, dear reader, are one for whom I'm sure this description fits

Each story is told in a unique way

Told differently on any given day

And it's a struggle, for each story and age

To not want to get involved in the next stage

To help them achieve the next aim or goal

But if I do too much it leaves me less whole

I realise I've begun to leave other stories behind

Because of wanting to help every story I find

So, slowly, I've started to step back

And realise that there are simply resources I lack

That stories, inevitably, will go on without me

But I should treasure those with me more deeply

It is an honour if I'm ever allowed to help form a line

But if I am too stretched already then that's also fine

For the show must go on, and what a fine story that will be heard

A story I'd love to hear, whether or not I will end up adding a word

A pair of socks

In another earth, much like ours

They still sing, measure time in hours

The seasons still change, they build houses from rocks

In fact the only thing strange is to do with socks

Somehow, through a quirk in ancient patent law

One market niche is guarded by club and claw

See, in this particular place and dimension
Socks can only be sold in one location

Travis Q. Sockworth, trillionaire many times

He's technically, officially, committed no crimes

You don't have to do business, can admit defeat

As long as when walking you don't get cold feet

It's crazy, to us, but they don't see the issue

He runs a charity, dabs his eye with a fine tissue

Making people beg for charity every year

You can avoid paying if he just sheds a tear

But for everyone else, you're all a bunch of schmucks

You want wool on your feet better part with some bucks

And the don't come cheap, see from supply and demand

Travis controls the supply throughout every land

Thankfully, in this place, we don't have to worry

At least, not about Travis. We are not his quarry.

Instead, socks are cheap, indeed abundant really

So let me pose to you a curious query

Why is it, in the sock-plenty land we live in?

Do some folk have not socks they've been given?

How are any sockless, in this day and age?

Does that not fill you with sadness and/or rage?

Socks are needed by many without homes

It doesn't cost much, but like gloves or combs

They could make more of a difference than you would believe

And could be the most wonderful gift to receive

So if you are no Travis, you don't need people to beg

You just recognise some people need some warmth on their leg

Why not consider sending some love their way

And donate a pair of fresh socks to someone today :)



Inspired by Stand4Socks. As someone who definitely has enough socks, it was probably good to take a step back and appreciate a small blessing I take for granted.

Lighter times

Soon, the day will be at its shortest

The night will be at its strongest

And things will get worse until that time

But then

But then

The sun will rise a little earlier each day

    and set a little later

Things will get better and brighter

    even if it is slow at first

You just have to hang on

    until that time

You are so, so nearly there

    although it can be hard to believe

We are nearly in lighter times

And I can't wait to see you there.

Who I am

I still don't know who I am.

I wouldn't be able to paint myself as a painting

Nor sing myself as a tune

I would not know what steps would make my dance

And I don't think I'll know anytime soon

But that is not to say I know nothing

For there are a few brushstrokes I feel are right

Even if I don't know the shape they're making

There are some notes that I keep singing

Even if there's harmony I'm still faking

I may not always be going forward

But I am filled with a desire to leap

I don't know how I'll change in the future

But I know there are some parts I want to keep

Matchstick

People aren't all matchsticks

Waiting for the right friction

To make them burn bright

With a one-time flame

That everyone can see

Until the person is spent

A different set of molecules

And the fire in them

Is a wavelength beyond 

Though the heat is there

For any careful enough

Some people will not light

Despite repeated striking

Yet the chemical potential

Would still be responsive

Yet others need no stimuli

Which can be volatile

In fantastic ways

A few folk may only burn

To share their energy on

You, are more than a matchstick

The land of do what you're told

We were raised in the land of Do What You're Told

The land of Don't Speak Up and Don't Be Bold

The land of Follow This Order and Follow That Order Too

The land of Do As We Say But Not As We Do

And someway, somehow, in a way that struck at our core

We don't seem to live in that land anymore

But maybe, just maybe, we went a little too far

When deciding we don't want to be told who we are

We were told to follow orders, that following order was good

But we were never told to think as critically as we should

How to evaluate options, and what we should do

When more than one option is presented as true

We should've learned how to recognise manipulation

How it is not weakness to think with hesitation

That life is not always game with sides that win

That you will be wrong, that's the reality we're in

We were raised in the land of Do What You're Told

We started to Speak Up, and Be Bold

That was good, but now without meaning to

We've ended up in the land of Don't Tell Me What To Do

Though it follows a very different theme, the inspiration for the title phrasing comes from Cuhmbawamaba's song of the same name

The mountain

Look at the mountain we all must climb it
But the mountain is steep and in a harsh climate
So naturally, we are in awe of those at the summit
"Look at them, they've actually done it!"

So we promote them, dote on them,
Swallow every word they've ever spoken
And there could well be wisdom in what they're spouting
But maybes there's more to a person than their height on the mountain

...

Because some are pausing to put down rope
Helping those who are struggling to cope
Others have set up refreshment stations
Staying stationary providing aid with patience

So if you're carving paths for others to follow
Is it any wonder that you're going a little slow?
Or that those teaching wisely about the path ahead
May end up a little further back in their stead?

...

There is certainly an achievement in climbing to the sky
But remember we need more than clouds to live by
What if instead we could appreciate what we've found
In those that help us all take some steps from the ground

First impression

I

wish that I didn't judge by
first impressions

I

find that I often rely

on assumptions

See
the person before me

and jump to judgement

See

a hint of a personality

and presume the pigment

This
is a sum of all my biases

that I want to change

This

will always be my default unless

I expand my range 

Now

I must see one outfit doesn't allow

you to know the full fashion

Now

I must overcome my instinct somehow

and instead jump to compassion

.
I do not know anyone's struggle or history.

I cannot instantly solve that mystery.

.

I can be kinder, but only once I've made this confession.
If I am truly to stop judging people by their first impression.

Acedia

So we live another twilight day
Where ne'er night nor morn seem to come
Are we to ride the gloom to it's dismal end?
Outlast this acedia to which we have succumb?

As we are driven apart by greater forces
I fear that now each must face this beast alone
This monotonic melancholy of the mind
Drowns us all with infernal drone

You mayn't realise how listless it made you
As the internal fog grasped more solid form
An atmospheric apathy that surrounds
Increasing struggle now a daily norm

We must drive the acedia from ourselves
Though to do so alone is to surely fail
For this solitary plague we now endure
It is only together that we can prevail

I read about acedia at this link, and wanted to try to capture it in a poem - https://theconversation.com/acedia-the-lost-name-for-the-emotion-were-all-feeling-right-now-144058

Advice

The issue I feel that often comes with advice
Is most people only know one way through life

So they can recall they, map that
Then if they need then can backtrack
But it's often a sad matter of fact
You need your own way out when backed into a trap

Do take inspiration from how people who aren't you escape
But some may be strong enough to cause the trap to break
And other may have learnt dismantle it with grace
With one lucky person could be caught in a trap that is fake

Sometime, it's painful, but you have to find your own way through
Ignoring earnest advice from those who want you to feel less blue
Even though they relate to your pain and situation too
They are themselves. You are you.

Don't forget the many times it helps to take any advice you can loan
But also that there are some things you may have to fight through alone

The shell

Break open the shell

Let light pour in

Lift tired eyelids

Stop imagining

The cracks will widen

Goodbye shield

Hello new world

Water and field

Maybe it's danger

Or a new friend

Though risk is real

Uncertainty ends

Break open the shell

Let light pour in

Lift tired eyelids

Stop imagining

Stretch

Dear friend,
I fear you have become inelastic again

It is time to
S t r e t c h



Let's start with the body

Stand up straight
    Touch your toes
Lift your arms
    Wiggle your nose
Bend your legs
    Twist your torso
Crick your neck
    Not too hard though!

Spend more time if things feel stiff
Give your whole body a little lift!



Ok, now for the tough part.
It's time
to stretch
your mind

It's time to ask yourself honestly, was I kind today?
Both to yourself, and to any others who crossed your way?
Are you thinking critically about those opinions you follow?
Remember your heroes have flaws even if that's tough to swallow!

What about longer term, over the past month or year?
Has your anxiety been causing you to act out of fear?
Were you fair to people, or did any biases seep through?
They are hard to overcome, but I believe in you!



Nice, good work - your body and mind send their utmost thanks!
It's vital maintenance for all our inner clinks and clanks.
To avoid becoming vulnerable to stiffness we must toil
And provide all our gears with much needed oil

So to stop yourself becoming a physical and mental wretch
You should simply remember that you have to stretch

A kinder world

Sometimes I wish we couldn't turn away
From those things we did not wish to see
But instead, that were forced to face our actions
In their cold entirety

You saw your ex cry after the break up
Or the long mirror-stare made after a weight joke
Your parent in the aftermath of shouting
The tired neighbour your loud music woke 

Melting ice from a plane trip for pleasure
The animals who were killed for your meals
Infection spread when you ventured out while ill
Worn fingers of the child that made your new heels

The hospital bed of the person you hit drunk driving
The therapy of the person you bullied to their core
The homelessness from sound financial investments
The souls that would be lost if you declared war


Morality is tough, and sometimes tough action must be taken
Yet sometimes tough actions are taken without regard

So I maintain that the world would be a bit kinder
If we made these hard actions just a little more hard

Inspired by this chilling but beautiful short story https://www.tor.com/2019/10/23/as-the-last-i-may-know-s-l-huang/

The early bird

It was early in the day
Yet a tale was quickly spun
A bird and a worm both emerged
But soon there was only one

The early bird gets the worm!
The birds would proudly boast
Let's all get up early
And seek out worms on toast

The early worm gets the bird!
The worms would warn with fear
Do not go out bleary-eyed
For the birds are vicious here

A famous tale you may have heard before
Both sides equally true
But if you pay heed to just one side?
Well, that is up to you

A little lighter today

The world is a little lighter today
The sun is a little brighter today
The air is clear
Right now and here
Things feel righter today

Someone turned up the colour today
My mind is in less squalor today
There is still mess
Just slightly less
I would be happy with another today 

When I leave behind today
I hope I find tomorrow okay
I don't know when
It'll come again
So I'll enjoy this kind today

Ow my legs hurt

 Hello everyone. Here is a poem, called "Ow, my legs hurt"

Ow, my legs hurt.

Ow Ow Ow.
Ow.

They hurt because of my hubris. Ow.
Knowing this does not make the hurt less. Ow.

I regret nothing
    Except that my legs hurt.

Ow Ow.

One day my legs will not hurt
That day is not today
And I am resentful of this fact.

Ow. My legs. They hurt.

No idea what inspired this poem, but on an unrelated note I'm going to try to keep my bike rides below 8 hours in future.

There was a church by the river

There was a church by the river
That held more memories than any will ever know
Some stretching centuries back
Some not too long ago
Through the middle was a beaten track
Worn by many who were weary

The gravestones each stood there dreary
Marking names and not much more
Some stood alone, some stood in pairs
With sadness when one date was 20 years before
Yet now both rest, without cares
With etchings that would fade with years

But it's not just the passed who find respite here
A bench where one could find rest within
A swing marked the path to the river banks
Poems and prayer on a board with pin
A fundraiser, with the church's thanks
The living also walked among these trees

Through the gate, past the monument of memories
Stood the church itself, though the doors were closed
Yellowed stone, a temporarily silenced bell
Ancient figures guarded the windows
Stood this building teaching heaven and hell
A portal to the past and the forever

Though the stones were worn with weather
The foundations stood quite strong
Hidden on a hill in a bountiful garden
Was a place where time did not belong
And any soul could come for a pardon
There was a church by the river

The church in the picture is Holy Cross in Shipton-on-Cherwell. I came across it on my travels, and was struck by the place.

Bottling yawns

Sometimes,
I wish I could bottle yawns

And stop any sleep

So I could be yawnless,

for a good while more

Then,

When the mood took me

I would uncork

Let loose the yawn 

And slumber again

Yet,

Capturing a yawn

Would take practice

It would not be possible

For one too far gone

But,
If my mind were right

The dark were not too strong
I could seize my chance

Capture a yawn

And,
Use my bought time well
Until the debt is due
And I set
the 

yawn
free
.

If the world does end

If the world does end

Please promise me this

That I wont go through it alone

As the stars flicker from the sky

As the sea starts to reclaim the land

As the sun burns brighter than ever before

As the new earth begins to springs forth

Promise me you'll hold my hand

So that we can see the end together

Getting some real apocalypse vibes from the earth this year, not gonna lie. Inspo music for holding someones hand and watching the world turn https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=blTFetDbWes

The man that built the bomb

He would not touch another soul in rage

If asked for wisdom, his guidance was sage

He tried his best to do no person wrong

He was just the man that built the bomb

Top of his class, best at school

Never unkind, never the fool

He learned his trade with great aplomb

He was just the man that built the bomb

He uncovered ideas never seen before

Then pulled at threads, uncovered more

He could sing the most beautiful song

He was just the man that built the bomb

Without him, the bomb could not exist

Without his genius or need to persist

He could have stopped, he should have known

What would happen when the bomb was blown

And now he speaks in whispered tones

His eyes don't sparkle, now he's been shown

The true cost of knowing all there is to know

Of going where humans should not go

He now remains eternal in the field he sewed

Wondering the cost of the reaping he owed

He tried his best to do no person wrong

He was just the man that built the bomb

I've been reading about the scientists who built the atomic bomb. It's been fascinating, and very haunting. They seem like cultured people, wickedly smart, but having to wrestle with what their knowledge helped build. I don't think many of them could actually have dropped the bomb themselves, but that doesn't matter. Robert J. Oppenheimer's speech is probably the most poignant example of this, but I found this discussion between German scientists upon hearing the news of Hiroshima also very revealing. There is the balance of personal academic pride, moral uncertainty, and disbelief on all fronts.

I want things to return to normal

I want things to return to normal

No

    Wait

I want things to get better, so that we can return to normal

It's wanting B, when first you need to do A.

Like wanting dinner before you wash your hands

Like wanting to drive before you sober up

It's tough to wait. 

It's annoying there's no clear signal. 

And yes, you may get lucky.

    It may be fine.

But it's endangering yourself, and others.

Sometime you need to remember

    Life can require a couple of steps

Try to jump some steps

    And you may fall a great way

Take caution

    And the climb will not be too hard

Crossroads

An old fig tree marked the fork

Where the road branched many times

I stood here with many friends

All of us in our primes

I saw one friend journey to the mountain

A perilous path to a glorious summit

Though the frosty trail was littered

With those the mountain made submit

The forest claimed another friend of mine

A boon to those who knew it well

How to navigate the fruits and trails

Where it was safe to rest upon the knell

Another took the empty country road

Which stretched on for quite a while

They walked a gentle pace

Repeating mile after mile

A few friends took the river

And most of those went with its flow

Accepting where it took them

Wherever it would go

Each path had its own dangers

Each path had its own risks

Some took their path with caution

Others took a pace more brisk

I saw these friends of mine

Travel far as I could see

While I felt glued in place

Beneath this old fig tree

Inspo: https://www.zenpencils.com/comic/130-sylvia-plath-the-fig-tree/ 

What do I want to be when I grow up?

When I was young

Or, younger than I am right now

The world was endless

And stretched on forever somehow

There were older people

Who drank bitter liquid from brittle cups

Who asked me, so politely

"What do I want to be when I grow up?"

It's standard question for children #2

Right after "Haven't you grown tall?"

What they meant is "What job do you want?"

But I often had no clue at all

And I'm just figuring out why

What if I don't want to be defined by just my profession?

What if I want to create things outside of 9-5?
What if I'm happy for that to be part of me

but to want to find more reason I'm alive?

And I don't know if I would have had an answer

But I wish just one older head

Had taken young me aside

And asked "What kind of person do you want to grow up to be?" instead

...

I felt the poem ended nicely there, but I'll admit to still not having an answer to that question. And right now I am really having to grapple with it.

I know I want to be kind

I know I want time outside of 9-5 to explore the richness of life

I know I want to not be so tired

I know I want to help others 

I know I want to not grow so distant from friends

I know I want to grow more as a person
But what I want to do?

I still don't know

And I haven't for the longest time

How to rest

Today, I have to remember how to rest

Give my brain some time to itself

To not prepare for any trial or test

Recollect how to be myself

Don't do work. Check.

What else is there to do?

Let's think. There was

a time before 

what I just went through

I remember things

being brighter then.

Even if I don't remember how.

I don't want to

just do nothing

Even if that's all my energy will allow

I've done some exercise

I've played some games

I've chatted with friends

I've gone outside

I've done some cooking

I've breathed a little deeper

Now, I'm at an end

What else?

I suppose I will 

remember

How to reorder myself with time

But to rebuild

myself

I must first

become 

a less structured

rhyme

Written in my garden, after submitting the final set of corrections for my D.Phil

Sound of my name

I'm not sure I've ever really felt that my name is me.
It's just a label, what more could it be?
It's not tied to ancestors generations long gone

Nor to a culture to which I will always belong

I was not named for a hero whose deed were great

No, my name means nothing. It does not determine my fate.

It is not an adjective or promise about who I would be

All my name does is signify that I'm me

Yet I am not even the only one with my name on the earth

So I feel it is not my name that gives me worth

For more than my name, I feel I am the things I have done

Those are the things that make me someone

My name was chance, from people who did not yet know me

So I will not be defined by a few syllables only

One day, I guess, I may feel proud of my name

Or, the opposite, I could view it with shame

But one things for certain, if I am more than those sounds

I had better show it and live a life that's profound

The Other Side

And he turned around like he was going to hit me, but he didn't because this other cop stopped him…All of a sudden that was a very revealing moment to me. All of my life police had been on my side. I didn't think of it that way, but police didn't bother you, you know, in the world where I grew up. All of a sudden I realized that I was on the other side. - Anne Braden

Welcome to the other side

It's been here the whole time

You've been happy where you were

With your existence not a crime

But now you've seen how things are

You're seen the truth behind the curtain

I know that you want to return

To a life that was much more certain

But this world does not go away

Just because you forget it's here

Those in this world still live with pain

With injustice and with fear

You can take up this fight

And try to make things better

Talk. Learn. Protest. 

Rewrite every unjust word and letter.

You have just joined this battle

But the struggle is far from new

Better get ready now

There's a lifetime of this to go through

For the pain may be age-old

But so is the hope of future change

The idea of the world that can be

Is both wonderful and strange

Do not abandon this cause

When it is no longer the favour of the day

Fight so that the other side

Is no longer so far away

In every age, no matter how cruel the oppression carried on by those in power, there have been those who struggled for a different world. I believe this is the genius of humankind, the thing that makes us half divine: the fact that some human beings can envision a world that has never existed. - Anne Braden

I'm tired

I am tired of it all

I'm tired 

of work

of feeling like I'm never done

of feeling like I'm always behind

of the voice inside my head telling me I'm not good enough

I'm tired 

of politics

of people putting party before philosophy

of politicians putting ego before their country

of there being no consequence for lies

I'm tired

of injustice

of reading about continued imbalance

of unfairness in the world

of power being used for an imperfect status quo

I'm tired 

of ignorance

of people not holding themselves to a high standard

of those who think years of research is a conspiracy

of constantly having to double guess myself around confident fools

I'm tired 

of radical individualism

of people just looking out for themselves

of folk who don't realise the hardship of others

of the lack of empathy

I'm tired 

of it 

all

And yet

I'm inspired 

by those who keep awake

by those who keep going

by those who have not given up

by those who are still passionate

And so
I may 

rest a little first

But
I know
I'm not

done

Note: This was written while I was in the middle of my corrections, in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic, and at the start of the BLM movement gaining traction in the UK (although obviously the issues surrounding it had and indeed the movement itself had been present for a while). I was feeling run down, and feeling very small compared to the world. I was chatting to people and trying to do things to help my mental health, but I'm keeping the poem as an honest reflection of the exhaustion I was feeling at the world.

Sport is a Fantasy

Sport is one of life's most wonderful fantasies
And it's time to stop pretending otherwise
That the physical pursuit of arbitrary rules
Is nothing more than fantastic lies.

Fantasies make you believe foolish tales
Of course the world is not about to end
Yet you believe in the smallest heroes
And invest in the great game of pretend

What the best fantasies do
Is teach you things about who you are
That you can be the one to step up
Even if the situation is bizarre

Here then, is a toast to Sport
The most fantastic author of all
Who makes us hold our breath
As we watch the flight of a ball

Sport makes us think it really matters
If we really can jump 1cm higher than the rest
Whether we can keep our toes inside the line
Or wield a bat with great finesse

More than society will often allow
We ride the great emotions
We'll yell and scream and dance and shout
We follow with devotion

Unless, of course, we step into the story
And insert ourselves into the page
Step a foot upon the pitch
Enclosed within the chalky cage

This is when we feel the most
And when we learn the most as well
How much do we really want this?
Are we prepared to go through hell?

To get up early, train til late
We learn the limit of our power
We train for days, for weeks and more
To perform for just an hour

We endure injury and physio
We endure the wind and rain
We buy into this awesome tale
We put up with the pain

Just so we can find a happy ending
To the current chapter, at least
It requires our inner hero
But also our inner beast

Sport has its ups, sport has it's down
It can be tough and cold
It tells the tale of champions
And the sadness of growing old

You must take it all Sport has to offer,
To see how the story plays
Yes, Sport is but a fantasy
And I mean that in the best of ways

Blank Canvas

Here, a blank canvas
Use it well.
You can be patient
Take time. Dwell.

But, eventually
Make your mark
Strike the white
With some dark

Add your contrast
To the page
Strike precise
Not with rage

Take this sheet
Make it your own
Take this nothing
Make it known

You will learn
To make space appear
New blank slates
There and here

If one day you've
a canvas to spare
Give it forward
if you dare

Let another thrive
In what they do
But this blank canvas
I give to you.

Food waste

One plus one equals two
Us equals me plus you (plus you)
Simple equations, simply stated
Leaves our satisfaction sated

Some things are fun to make equations for
Like food plus hunger equals hunger no more
Isn't that simple? Clean and Nice.
So fun, in fact, let's state it twice.

Food plus hunger equals hunger for some
Isn't that cool...wait....hmmm
Somethings gone wrong. That's not right.
Ok, maybe in cases of famine or blight.

Lots of food plus hunger...still equals some hunger left.
Despite the abundance, we leave some bereft.
We've skewed the mathematics to one side
To leave some feeling empty inside

How to balance it? Well there's easy tricks
But some things in life are hard to fix
That doesn't mean that it's not worth a try
If enough people starting thinking blue sky

So for those of us who can't affect agricultural scale
Or global distributions and all that would entail
Look local instead, and share what you can
Balance the equation for one more human

The hero fell

The hero fell,
as the people watched

Why could they not stop staring?
At the fall of a hero who would not stop caring?

Did some watch because otherwise, they would not believe it true?
The destruction of a person and they thought above me and you?

Did some watch out of delight, to see they who flew high lose their wings?
Were they satisfied to see that the uncaged bird no longer sings?

Did some watch out of disbelief, because they had been taught to believe,
That in some way, somehow, the hero always finds their reprieve?

Did some watch out of cynicism, happy to see them fall from high?
Using the fall as proof that the hero could never have flown in the sky?


Maybe, amongst the crowd, was the one who plotted the hero's fall
Perhaps scared, perhaps happy, possibly even a bit regretful


The hero fell,
But I do not know why the people watched.
Maybe they didn't know either.
I didn't.

Grief

Do you know the odd thing about the symptoms of disease?
When your coughing and sneezing and stuck in bed?
Those things which are our body responding to something not right with us
Are instead the things that can wreck us beyond repair

Do you know the odd thing about grief?
When despair and sadness fill up our head?
That thing which is our body responding to something not right with the world
Is instead the thing that can wreck us beyond repair

We can cure symptoms with pills
Or our body fixing itself to become right
I know that a doctor's advice will never go amiss
Allowing us to become healthy once more

I do not know how to cure grief
Especially when that which causes grief is something we can't fix
But I do know that compassion and love will never go amiss
To give us faith and hope for the world in store

Refugee's pain

Imagine, right now, there was a country you could escape to.
A country where you could hug friends and go to the pub too.
A place where your grandparents would not be in danger.
With a good school for your kids, where you could shake hands with strangers.
A place where you could be assured a bed in a hospital if you were sick.
I'm sure most of you would choose to escape to that country pretty quick.

Then imagine that things were worse - a country at war
Guns echoing in the streets outside your door
Mines in the ground as danger unseen
Drones judging killers through tv screens
Then realise this reality is why people flee
And they would take on the label of "refugee"

This reality you want to flee from so badly?
They would accept this situation gladly
That's not to say you can't complain
Nor that you aren't allow to make exasperated exclaims

Just to let you realise, in your most scary situation.
Though it is painful, with little elation.
We will mostly get through this. Things will get better for us.
The same is not true for all Earth's populous

We are closer to them than ever before
So when this is over, do not slam your door

Take a chance for empathy, to really feel
And accept that a refugee's pain is real

Do you read me?

Do you read me?
Do you read me?

I'm trying to reach you right now
I need to break out somehow

Caught in a cage, hate the jailer
I keep myself trapped safe, a saviour
But even on my best behaviour
I know I wont get air to savour

So I'm sending an SOS
Save our sanity, nothing less
I'm cranking up the ol' wireless
Cause my wires are caught in a mess

They call me radar, don't you know
All my messages echo
Send some 'hi's when I'm low
Answer, answer, don't say no

Don't worry, I'm not annoyed
Throwing e-bottles to the void
Some get cracked or get destroyed
Some'll bob, some are buoyed

A whole minute has now parted
Since my message first departed
Don't you leave me brokenhearted
Oh....we've started

Do you read me?
Do you read me?


Inspiration is the ever-dope Aesop Rock: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1iUN-J-lSs

Planets dont think

Planets don't think
Planets don't feel
But the planet's on the brink
Of a threat that's real

Is it astounding that in all of humanity
We have uncovered some simply remarkable philosophy
The intricacies of our symphonies are sumptuous to sample
But a mystery that's mist to me is mostly this example

How could we humans, who we agree are filled with cultures
Not realise or hypothesise that we are simply vultures
We make towers with rocks and flowers that are not ours to flex our powers
Without question or confession for this obsession to remould earth and it's possessions
Though some seek to shine a light on the finite-ness of our plight
We amplify and deify those who mystify this fight

We need to understand that we are guests (at best) of this land
That terra firma will rotate ever further even if it is unmanned
An argument with rocks is not a virtuous debate
I fear some folk wont stop to listen until the clock ticks too late

Planets don't think
Planets don't feel
Humanity is on the brink
And we don't believe it's real

Echoes

We are all essentially echoes

Reflecting what we receive

Amplifying, dampening

Creating a sonic weave

But we are not simply walls

Echoing each and every sound 

It would be a noisy world indeed

If we repeated every word we found

Some vibrations from years past

Still echo in your voice today

Others have been lost

Once strong, now faded away

Once, twice, a few times

The echos may combine

Forming echoes which seem new

The recipe, sublime

You are not a passive echo

As if selecting tools, not toys

Together, we can resonate

and be echoes of more than noise

I don't know what to say

I don't know what to say
I don't know what to do
But I don't feel so helpless
Because I believe in those that do

Those that walk our barren streets each day
To do work that is essential
Those trying to take on this new disease
Make me reverential

I recognise the years they spent
Before this fight even started
Learning all that they could learn
So that the advice they've now imparted

Can keep safer those that stack our shelves
Those that struggle to care for themselves
Those manning the wards on the frontlines
The necessary workers who never used to make headlines

In a world of hearsay and false prophets
It's good to acknowledge your ignorance
So that the advice that does break through
Is the advice backed by evidence

I don't know what to say
I don't know what to do
But I don't feel so helpless
Because I believe in those that do

When the history books are written

When the history books are written
That tell the tales of today
Do you ever wonder
What those books will say?

Right now, we get to choose
To make a tough decision
Will the future celebrate us
Or treat us with derision?

Let us weave a tale

Not of ego nor of vice
But rather of our kindness
And of our small sacrifice

How this point in time

Starts a chapter that changed us to our core

How for crises in the future
We would work together more

I do not know how long

The present day will last
But I know that we are strong
If we choose to stand fast

The world seems full of darkness

Humanity can be its light
But only if we set aside our issues
And, together, make things right 

Written near the start of the Corona virus outbreak in the UK

Peace is not the absence of noise

Peace is not the absence of noise
Although I know that Conflict is a cacophony
a collective chorus of countless calls
each trying to shout over the other
and clashing in the echoing chaos

Peace is not the absence of noise
Humanity was not meant to be silent
at least, not continuously so
although suppression is claimed
to be peace by some

Peace is not the absence of noise
Peace is the presence of harmonies
of my voice adding to yours which adds to theirs
and together creating music
we could never make alone

Peace is not one person living alone
but humanity living together
the tune is fragile
but it is beautiful
and worth the effort

The monkey who didn't want to climb trees and that's ok

It seems clear to me
That monkeys climb trees

They climb the big
They climb the small
Most monkeys I've met
Will climb them all

Dan was not most monkeys
And that's ok
You see Dan was odd
In how he liked to spend each day

More than anything else
Dan liked to draw
With a rough wooden brush
Held in his paw

He liked to look at trees
The root branch and bark
But rather than climb it
Dan turned trees into art

But Dan thought he was meant to climb
So Dan hid his art and felt shame
They'll never find out he decided
Or Daniel P. Monkey isn't my name!

And Daniel P. Monkey was his name
So he had complete and full faith
When he talked to his friends
That his secret was safe

But it is rarely a good thing
To hide who you are
It turns you twisted inside
Like the pipes in a car

As he climbed with his friends
He pretended things were fine
But his friends were good friends
Who cared for his mind

So one day they hid
In a very, very leafy bush
And they saw their friend Daniel
Pick up his brush

And though their feet stayed still
Their jaws hit the floor
They saw Daniel paint one tree
Then paint some more

Finally, they cracked
They leapt to where Daniel stood
They hugged and adored him
Like only friends could

They told him Daniel P. Monkey!
This art is so good!
Why did you not tell us?
We would've cheered you! We would!

And Daniel told them
Of his love for his art
And how scared he had been
To follow his heart

He told them how great they were
When they climbed all those trees
But how climbing so high
Made him weak at the knees

His friends, they smiled
We have our talents, you have yours
No amount of climbing trees
Could make your art come from our paws

Let's celebrate together! they said
And celebrate they did
A very grand party was held
For every adult and kid

Daniel drew more and more
The best that he could
His friends hung the paintings up
On every spare piece of wood

They climber higher than Daniel dared
Until in every inch all around
Paintings were hung
From the sky to the ground

Together they made
The most fantastic of scenes you every could see
And not a single soul cared
That Daniel P. Monkey did not want to climb trees

Not all trees were meant for fire

In the early years of humanity
We learned to burn trees for fuel
We realised the power that lay within fire
Just like we learned to harness the mule

We used the heat to cook our food
And did not give a second thought
We became rulers, lords of this land
As the lessons of wood were taught

So we burned and we burned
We used fuel to fulfill our desire
And slowly, too slowly, we had to learn
Not all trees were meant for our fire

Some trees are meant to provide shade on hot days
Some trees are homes for creatures big and small
Some hold the ground to stop floods in towns
Trees do so much for us all

What is happening, finally, is we are learning our place
That trees are more than just long sticks and tools
They provide beauty and oxygen and, if we can save them yet
They may just help keep the planet cool

Humans are in the world, not above it
It's time to behave honestly
All it requires is to act with restraint
And not burn every last tree

He leant back on his chair

He leant back on his chair, and time stood still
There'd be time in the future for adventure and thrill

Right now, things are at rest
No time to worry or prepare for a test
No worrying about what the future might bring
There was no hierarchy, no peasant or king
Just the moment that had always been there
During the exhale of breath as it mixes with the air
Before the eyes open from a well earned blink
It's like, well, what's the opposite of being on the brink?
Instead being in a place so steady nothing can knock you down
The smallest of smiles and not a trace of frown

A self-contained moment to enjoy but not keep
As he leant back on his chair, and sunk in deep

Arrive

Hey, I'm here!
Where? Here!
But where is here?

Here is where I am right now
The product of a thousand whys and hows
All the people I've met and a thousand decisions
Have led me to here with utmost precision!

It's amazing!
What? Yeah!
No, what are you talking about?

I could be living anywhere, I could be doing anything
Just think of all the many things that tomorrow could bring
Then apply it to a year and the many different ways
That result from choices made on many different days

Then apply it to two years, three years, four
And think how unlikely it is as you keep adding more
That you arrived right here to this place to this time
Experiencing what is really a quite silly rhyme

Sometimes we arrive with purpose or we arrive without drive
But no matter how or why you got here, you have now arrived
What you do, now you're here? Without hesitation,
I can say you are doing the thing that will lead you to the next destination

Craft a path

I was lost in a place I knew I hadn't seen before
There was darkness all around but only one route in markings on the floor
So I turned right round and tried to find another
I took one foot put it in front of the other
Walking slowly away from the comfort of the runes
Maybe I was walking to my eventual tomb?
Didn't matter. I found lights glow in my footprints
Found crisscrossing paths and was soon convinced
That this was my duty, to light a new way
Maybe someone else would follow my path some day?
Or maybe their ego would put them in the opposite way too
The oscillation of the stubborn individual
Is still maybe better than never oscillating at all

I doubted my gait as my faith began to waver
I'd now be many steps behind, too late to be a saviour
Didn't want to undo the negative progress I'd already made
Rather see if I could last as I met water and began to wade
Out of my depth but I had to keep going
Longing for indication but deep down knowing
When you make the choice to take a path alone
You wont get the validation to which some choices are prone
You're bound to second guess every choice
Just don't give in to that doubting voice
Eventually, your feet will find a surface to let you rest
Before you move on to the next question on the test
Come through, maybe realise there was a bridge a few meters left
Yet realise how much strength you now carry with you
Even in the battles you didn't have to go through

I walked forward with no end goal in mind
The reward was the journey. and moments I would find
Sometimes finding others who eschewed the path on the floor
Then being pulled in a direction I'd never been before
I know very little - least of all if I'm doing the right thing
All I know is that life is not a competition you can win
It's an experience so explore inner and outer space in this land
Live each day and craft your own path if you can

Before the storm

Are you supposed to relax, in the calm before the storm?
Enjoy the last few minutes before chaos is born?

Stare down the lightning that is to come

Be bigger that the thunder that shoots louder than a gun

Do you panic? Release all the fear until you have none left?

Bite through your nails leave your sweat glands bereft?

It may not be intentional, but it's fight or flight

And you have to wait knowing things wont be alright

Some plan. Use the extra time merely as an extension

Build a shelter that might collapse on the slightest provocation

Plot and scheme how to take the storm down

Beware, dear storm, a rival has walked into town

Here is a fact. The storm will one day arrive with a crash

But the old adage holds true - it too will pass

And while I don't dispute that the storm will bring harm

Sometimes you still need to enjoy the days that are calm

Inspiration - the intro of Aerials by System of a Down. The whole song is beautiful, but the chilling, slowly rising intro is what inspired the emotions here.

Through the wires

click click. click click. tap tap. click.
Just like that, my message is converted to electronic semaphore
Broken up into unrecognisable splinters
Sent a thousand miles
And read by a friend on the other side of the really quite giant hunk of rock to which I am gravitationally attached.

I could, technically, send a message skittering off over near the whole surface of this world.
Maybe off world, to be sent via satellite.
Take a chance and send a package of letters echoing in to space
Words have power. And we can send our words almost anywhere

So, with this newfound power, let me preach caution
We say so much, as a species. We say more than we can possible listen.
I get overwhelmed by this power to say so much to so many
And it seems that there are those that don't. Those willing to talk enough to get their voices heard
Is that then the answer? We must all talk as much as possible?
I hope not. I like talking, but I'm not sure I'd like to depend on it for a living.

Be careful then. You are an amplifier.
Do not let your words lose their value
Nor let people forget the value of theirs
Take time to craft something worth amplifying, if you wish it to be seen by many.

And if your message is only meant for one,
Then make it worth the scientific magic that will transport it.
Let your words sparkle through the wires
And light up someones heart.
click

Motivation

Live like someone old, who has been given back a young body for one day
Imagine you had to skip tomorrow, what would you achieve today?
Motivation is most fickle you must seize it when you can
Give the gift of encouragement and show someone you're a fan

You know that weird feeling, when someone complements you out of the blue?
Here's an open secret - you have that power too!
I know you're going to spend a while thinking "Am I just going to sound weird?"
Well, maybe. Honestly, maybe. Anxietal awkwardness is something we've all feared.

Do it anyway. Let someone know exactly how dope you think they are.
That you're a fan of what they do, don't be scared to sound bizarre
At worst, they'll brush it off. Or miss it. Or something else inconsequential.
And at best you'll make their day, motivate them, ignite their potential

You have the power to be the person that introduces someone to life outside their shell
Just don't forget, occasionally, that you can motivate yourself as well

Go to war

No matter what you think of war, do not forget the cost
Do not forget the sacrifice, the souls that will be lost
And though the rich and powerful dictate the terms of war
Remember that the price is often paid for by the young and poor

There are times when you might think of war as the action we must take
When our principles are pushed and we must stand up for them or break
If you're worried a foreign power will come and strike you in your home
I see then why you would ask for yet one more war to add to history's tome

Now, here's he thing. I do not know what goes on within the halls of power
I am not privy to the finer details of the words that echo in the ivory tower
I have not known firsthand the impasse of the leader of a nation
I do not know the stress of the country critiquing every hesitation

And yet, and yet. From my soapbox on the ground it sometimes seems to me.
That the final option of war is not always as final as it should be.
That those in the game for profit or for ego or for pride
Will gladly wage a war with a conflict on the side

It can be hard from way down here to find the truth between the news
And it's all to easy to imagine a dystopia where war is waged for votes and views
Maybe I'm an optimist. But I can't believe that's true
That a payment of lives is such an easy thing to do

But maybe they don't remember. It can be easy to forget.
When leaders go to war they don't yet know their debt.
So it's up to the people to remind them, before the souls are lost.
That if you choose to go to war do not forget the cost.

Change the world

I don't know if I'm going to change the world
But I know I want to try

This world gets more complex as I live in it
And will until I die

And I don't know how I want the world to change
Which wrong I want to right

And I want my life to be more than just one cause
There are so many things to fight

I don't know if I'll make a difference
With what I do

But I know there is virtue in the battle
In seeing something through

I don't know if I'm going to change the world
But I want to in my heart

I don't know how to change the world
But I know I have to start


Inspiration music is Full Circle by Five Finger Death Punch

A letter

Take a sheet of paper
Even a small one

Take a pen that fits your hand
Where the ink flows well

Think of a person you know
One who needs a message

Write

Words will come
Or maybe pictures

Fill the canvas with yourself
Whatever that might mean

Then seal that piece of you away
Inside a crisp envelope

Some of you may spill over
As you write the address

That's fine

Seal it with a kiss
Send it on its way

Never underestimate a letter
For someone having a bad day

Top 10 of 2019

It is tough, after writing so much, not to let creativity become routine. I've tried to let the time I've set aside for poetry be a focus for creating something new, rather than an urge to meet a deadline. It's been a tough year, but I still think I've found some time to let the spark fly :)

Weirdly, the ones I'm proudest of this year all sort of all in pairs. There were many others I loved -Caterpillar was a special poem for a friend, Identity made me delve into how I think of myself, Fantasy reminded me why it's important to create, Wordweaver captured an Alan Moore idea of the power of ideas, Told was inspired by the climate protesters, and Our Challenges Are As Unique As Our Gifts took two ideas I knew well (everyone is unique, everyone has challenges) and connected them in a way I hadn't managed before.

Motivation

Aesop Inspired
I am a huge huge fan of the artist Aesop Rock, he has this incredibly interesting way of rhyming - filled with analogies and never shying away from describing things in interesting ways. This is probably the poem I've written that has come closest to capturing that style for myself. On top of that, it has a lot of lines and imagery that I just adore. One I was rewriting for a long time, because it seems like this might be one of those poems I love but other can't connect to (potentially because Aesop's style is eclectic and I'm struggling to match it). I don't care. One of those I've memorised because I adore the rhythm so much.

Poem Catcher
Sometimes simplicity is the solution. It can be tough to keep writing poetry, especially after all this time - and I really want to keep changing up how and what I write. This was one of those times when I was struggling and just took a shot at a much simpler style of poem. It ended up being very fun - exploring a slightly surreal idea, but being very visual and not exploring it too long. I really liked it, and if any of my arty friends want to have a go at drawing it let me know ;)

Religious Poems

Faith
Inspired my a mental health in Christianity day my church ran. A friend of mine used the line "my faith is not my depression", and it got me inspired to think about all the things faith isn't (and is). I'm always really scared when writing something like this that I'll make some big theological faux pas, but I was very happy with how this turned out. I loved embracing the "CS Lewis letter" style of writing, and I think I helped capture something unique on the way.

Good Friday
One of those poems that changed the way I think about things. I remember, very clearly, getting the idea of "what if humanity could be represented as kids on a playground?". I remember being kind of sad that I didn't have the skill to write such a thing - in my head the idea worked best as a children's book format, and I don't have the best prose. As it is, I had a go anyway (I think with the encouragement of a friend), and I am so, so happy with how it turned out. A bit of a theme, but it really helped me visualise a lot of the actions of humanity - I feel like a lot of history can be interpreted in this way without losing much nuance.

Empathy

Where Passion is Sewn

I have a lot of odd tastes. I know this, and embrace it a little bit. This does mean that, in public, I'll rarely hear music I love - and also that I don't want to subject others to something that I know is unlikely to suit their palette. What is tough though, is to make sure I'm always encouraging of people with different tastes (I can't be the only one who inadvertently finds themselves making fun of odd habits, no matter how hypocritical that is). This is a little poem to remind myself of that - to adore the passion in others and encourage it where I can.

Take on the World

Outside of poetry, I also do some sports journalism. This year, I took a bit of a step back from quantity and tournament reports, and focussed instead on a few high quality pieces. One of them was an interview with a friend about Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. She described her symptoms as "a battery that couldn't fully charge". Shortly after, I myself got ill and had similar (though far, far less severe) symptoms of fatigue. I tried to use what I had learned from her to express that irritation of fatigue in a poem, and I hope I did it justice.

Big Ideas

Give Love a Try
Inspired by a spirited discussion with a friend about Christianity. My friend raised the (very legitimate) point about the harm Christianity has caused over the years. Fairly off the cuff (i.e. I sat at the screen a while pondering a response) I responded that many big ideas - regardless of how benevolent they may seem - have also been used for harmful ends. I gave science and love as two examples, and pondering over it, I realised how interesting it would be to write a poem from the perspective of two evangelists for the idea of love and a skeptic. I saw a little of myself on both sides of the argument, but the line "love is perfect, those who practice it are not" came from the evangelist, though it mirrored my thoughts in a way I hadn't expressed before. I do love writing from characters, I need to try it more.

Here is a Truth
I know I was discussing truth and lies, but I cannot remember how this idea came into my head. What I do remember though, is once the idea was there, finding it very fun to follow through. Listing all the types of lies/liars/truths and then finding a common uniting theme for each was a very fun idea, and made me do a few mental gymnastics I hadn't had to do before. I'd love more ideas like this, as tough as they are to write.

Communication

The Girl Who Dreams in Books
Written for a friend, and I loved how this one turned out (although I feel I have a lot of friends this could apply to). Again, I love the slightly surreal imagery. Dreams is an issue I've tackled a fair amount before, so when I say I think this is my best take on it I'm acknowledging how tough that task is. Maybe there's also a longing here myself - my reading has had to take a big back step in recent years, so hopefully I can inspire myself back into the pages again.

Another Tongue
I am very lucky to live in an anglo-centric world where I can travel to many different countries and meet people who know my native tongue. It's not the first time I've tackled the topic of how amazing I find people who can speak more than one language, but I think this one shows my progression as a writer. It was also very fun to perform this in front of the German society!


Many thanks to you for reading this too! I can't believe how long I've been writing now. If you every read one and want to chat about it, I would love to. It's hard work writing, but the conversations I've had inspired by the poems have been one of the things which ahve helped keep me going :)

Dear Harry in ten years

Dear Harry in ten years,

How are you doing? I hope you didn't change your name

Or, if you did, that a forwarding address means this will find you all the same

I wanted to check in with you, after all, it's been a while

Is your motto still to try to be someone you could talk to with a smile?

Or has another song lyric taken its place?

Have you found a lyricist more talented than Aes?

Are you still writing poetry? I've been going seven straight years.

Did you finally build up courage to send it to someone and ignore your fears?

What about work? If you're like me know, you'll hate being asked

But right now I'm on the precipice, being forced to leap at last

I've been static I know, while still moving hard.

I could identify every part of Oxford you'd find on a postcard

I've spent many years here, it feels like a home

I don't know if I want to settle or just want to roam

Right now, between frisbee and work, I've been delayed in seeing friends

I hope that you got around to meeting them again in the end

Everyone around me seems to be getting married and becoming mums or dads

It seems like something nice, but from a distance most things seem rad

Right now I feel under a lot of stress, fairly unable to take risks

I've had to stay at home a lot and give up on the disc

Though I feel I wouldn't trade the time I spent playing with the best

I wont lie that it still felt good at times to be having a little rest

Now, I want to return, but I've been going to the gym properly

After a long time promising myself I finally made it a priority

Did it work? Or did I just get injured yet again

If I did I bet it was the hamstring strain

I feel like I'm stronger in faith than when the decade began

Maybe I'll fall away or maybe I'll be baptised a second man

I know I'll learn a lot and change my philosophy

Promise me though you'll think through it properly?

Look, that future is uncertain, and I'll have to stay right here

A person in the past writing a future poem for the new year

I don't know if you need it, but I want to wish you luck

You're smarter than you think, even when you think you're stuck

I've no idea who you are, but I hope you're someone I'd enjoy meeting

That even if your life is hectic you have time for a friendly greeting

I've no idea if you'll read this, or even if the internet will still exist

Maybe you'll start drinking alcohol and enjoy getting pissed

Maybe the planet will call humanity on its hubris in climate change

Maybe politics will become less tribal and become less strange

Maybe, maybe. I could worry about the future forever.

The other option is to go live it, and try to change things for the better

Hey Harry? Remember you don't have to do things on your own

Remember how great your friends are. Remember you aren't alone.

Trust in Him. Trust in the relationships you've sewn.

I hope you're happy. I hope you've grown.

Dear Harry in ten years, or even in more

Don't be a stranger. Give the future what for.

Love, Harry (2019)