Braille

Two dots wide by three dots high
A six dot block known as a cell
A cool little trick to encode 'u' and 'i'
But also, well, also the entirety of an alphabet along with the rest of human literature as well. 

Even though there's only 64 things that a cell can say
Together they were the facts and they were the fiction
A means of access to the culture of the day
Once the only lifeline for those with low vision

How odd it is, such a wonderous invention
Was, like sadly many things, born of war
Derived from Napoleonic means of night communication
Though rejected for being too complex at it's core

Step up Louis Braille, who took it, improved it
And then three years late, at age 15
Took the first Braille alphabet, and used it
To allow him access to a world he'd never seen

And though now Screen Readers have taken hold
I hope that Braille will still not be forgot
There is such beauty in the simple embedding of old
In which different worlds are encoded inside each little dot

***

I couldn't find a way to sneak it in, but it's apparently 200 years since the meeting between Charles Barbier (inventor of night writing) and the young Louis Braille in 1821 at the Paris institute for the blind.

Laughter

I adore how many words the Greeks had for love
To recognise how expansive a concept it can be
From selfless Agape to passionate Eros
Ludos for the flirtatious and Philia for the friendly

We lose touch with those things we cannot express
To generalize something can be to cause its un-birth
Think, for instance, how easily we can lose touch
With how many types of laughter exist on this Earth 

So let's remember the sensible chuckle
For a silly quip that's fun and never too mean
The belly laugh from the man in the pub
At a punchline that was certainly not clean

The uncontrolled giggle from a gaggle of schoolgirls
Planning drama and antics for the day ahead
The infectious yet confident cackle 
From a viral joke that can't help but spread

Do not forget the nervous snicker
That can act as a valve on unbearable tension
Or the guffaw of a cheeky father
Who told some wordplay of his own invention

There is cruel laughter, there is kind laugher
Yet we often think of it all as one
Squashing dark humour into innuendos
Wrapping it all up together with puns

It seems ridiculous, doesn't it?
When you think of all the laughter you've heard
But it's impossible to keep it suppressed
Because laughter is far more than just a word

Travelling Alone

Travelling alone can be great to unwind
A tranquil delight, an utter joy
A chance to reflect, to clear your mind
What a privilege, for any boy!

*cough*

I write that latter line with a lot of regret
I wish my words could be more inclusive
But when I stop to listen and to reflect
A collective philosophy becomes elusive

And fellas, I'm not saying we walk without fear
When we venture late into an unknown place
But the scale of the problem matters here
And how often it's a problem we have to face

"But I'm not the problem" you say with pride
"I'm an exception", and that may be true
The issue is enough men have lied
That they don't know if they can trust you

Or me. I need to consider if I'm part of this.
If I've contributed to this atmosphere.
Through missing warnings or making ignorant quips
Because you know what's to blame for this fear?

Not people going out alone or dressing a certain way
Those shouldn't be things that lead to danger
And if I want to believe that the truth of a future day
I need to make sure I'm a better friend than stranger

Because, without realising it, I have more freedom
Based on, among other things, being male
And I don't know if there are past things I could have done
If I had a chance to rewrite any sad tale

But, well, I look at stories and stats as well
How it portrays a world I just don't know
So, if I believe the stories that my friends tell
There's only one way this reflection of mine could go

Fellow men, I'd simple ask you to reflect too
Especially if these words seem unfamiliar or strange
For whether this due to the actions of many or few 
We need to do whatever we can to help things change

***
***

Written in response to many things, but particularly dedicated to Sarah Everard 

Free versE

Let me write without structure

or rhyme
or insight

This is my free verse

and iT wiLL BE FREE!!

Formed through love and chaos

    with a dash of tiredness

"Free the verse!"

We will chant, with some prominent personalities joining our the cause de jour
Not understanding what we're asking for, but with heart in the right place

Too long have we been held under this rule of meter
Until our verse is free, our minds are not
So restricting is the page on which we write!

Some surgeon poets insist we must carve every line
Not realising the scalpel pen they use is still a tool of butchery!
Carefully controlling which parts of themselves are allowed to bleed onto the page

Be vulnerable and open, poets of tomorrow!!!
Un-couplet yourselves from these shackles

Tell this story in whatever form you can
and forget every cast you have poured your molten ideas into before

Who. Cares. If the form is hard to read
        as long as it is honest
        as long as it is genuine

You will know if the pause is right
And whether the correct word is left
We are winged wordweavers 

    and we are 

    out 

    of 

    our 

    cage!

A restful quiet

...

...

...It was quiet
But in a restful way

...Not a full rest
Just comfortable

...

...Every thing is
"Not right now"

...Deeper breathing
Inhale. . .Exhale

...

...Muffled silence
With mind-fog shield

...Nothing forced
Simply accepted

...

...A tiny smile
For the peace achieved

...It was quiet
But in a restful way

...

...