Being different

Other than being different to everyone else, what is wrong with dressing colourfully?
Embracing a spectrum that doesn't seem permanently wintery?
Could it just be, you saw me dressed different, and wanted to have something to say?
Try a little light humour to help the conversation on it's way?

I have said a lot of wrong things, from just wanting to say something
It's not a bad inclination, but there's trouble it can bring 
Trying to force a thought or four into an uncertain situation
When the person in question wasn't seeking validation

There's points in life when you're not trying to cause a fuss
Just being yourself, rather than being something to discuss
Rather than being the centre of someone else's life lesson
You have to defend yourself from a well-meaning question

Now, I like dressing in colours and I have a lot of reasons
We all have a proclivity to dress towards our favourite seasons
And I've had wonderful discussions about aesthetics and philosophy
From people who think and dress a very different way to me

But do take a second, and consider whether your query is just cover
For the discomfort you discover when we embrace our differences from each other


***

For clarity, I almost always enjoy discussing my aesthetic with people - as long as it's genuine. But there are times when I feel like I'm on the defensive in what should be a friendly conversation, and that can feel uncomfortable. I've also been on the other side many times, when I've spoken up about something that seems odd to me and not realised I'm making someone defend being themselves. 

Home, but new

Welcome to your new world!

Please leave your free time at the door for a short while
Because you will have admin and organisation
Staring you
In the face
Every time you walk in
For at least the next week.

You can't do it all at once.

So, what do you value?
What are your real priorities?

What bills do you sort first?
What groceries do you carry on your first shop?
Which furniture do your arrange your room around?
Which bags and boxes do you leave unpacked for the first few days?

It's a real jolt to the veins
Realising that you need this but can do some days without that
Honestly, it might be healthy to not have internet a short while
But one day of sleeping on a ground mattress will motivate you to build a bed

For me? I needed cereal, milk, bread, and bovril
Electricity and water - anything else is a luxury
I made sure the desk stayed in the corner of the room
To not become my whole life, please.

Each task done is another bit of my brain that's now free
Free to plan cleaning or explore living in a new city
To adjust to new working and relaxing conditions
And figure out if I'm comfortable with visitors yet

Then, one day, you'll look up
Realise there's nothing urgent to do
And finally
Call this new world
Home

Father's Day

Classically trained, is something I've never been

But I've learned a few lessons from the things I've seen

In trying to learn what life is and what it means

I've realised I can't trust those things I see on screens

A father, and a son.

A person, and a person.

One is old, one is young.

And they're all different, every one.

But I see the same relation again and again

Always a static figure contrasted with growing pain

A son learning how this world is so strange

The father out of touch and unwilling to change

There's bitterness between them, never too long

There's affecting between them, never too strong

Cookie cutter enough to appeal to the throngs

A neighbourhood nearby they could easily belong

And that's just it.

Why it's off just a bit.

Why this image doesn't sit.

Why it doesn't seem to fit.

People don't average out.

We're different in different ways.

We whisper and we shout.

We're different on different days.

We do things we'll regret, that we never repeat.

Others regretful things we do almost every week.

We wonder how we achieved our greatest feat.

Why our thoughts don't match the words we speak.

So: a son, and a dad.

Both good, both bad.

Both happy, both sad.

Both people, and a little mad.

On earth, there are millions of father-son relations

Each unique, dependent on the father-son situation.

The history, time of day, circumstances, and location

All with varying levels of infatuation.

With all this variety, I must remember mine isn't the same.

A son, Harry (that's me!), and my dad who I never call James

We are not the father-son relation that has reached such fame

We are our own thing, and that's no source of shame.

We've learned how to talk about difficult things.

We've seen each other struggle. And a little of what that struggle brings.

But we care for each other. In our own special, and honestly, quietly lovely way.

So, from this son,  I'll wish my Dad, a happy father's Day.

Identity

It comes at the boundary of what and who?
Deciding the things which define you as you
Words are simply words and it seems an absurd task
Defining my identity if anyone should ask

Am I am poet, or a person who does poetry
Am I truly kind or do I just make myself act kindly
Am I a scientist because I think theoretically
Am I just a label that defines my identity?

I breath every day but I'd never call myself a breather
Neither as a drinker or a thinker or an eater
Maybe the only reason I don't define by the deeds I do each day
It that every individual I've ever met also acts this way

So if it's not what I do daily, is it what I do differently?
Those things you don't do that I do uniquely?
But I've met better artists, better athletes, better friends
Do I have to win a label and then stand and defend?

I don't think I'm alone in the fact that I falter
I've forgotten many things in the pursuit of growing older
My morality is meant to be my steady compass in a storm
But one day I'll be introduced by things I can't do any more

In these modern times I find people seem to know the life they're living
Like they've looked inside and pried a guide that seemed easily given
And I'm just standing here like "Can I get one of those?"
Preferable one with easy answers and simplistic prose

I'm not sure I can call this a journey as I don't think there's a destination
And though my God stands solid my faith can also be shaken
The only honest answer in this quest to find identity
Is the simplest one of all. That I am 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 pledge

I pledge to listen more this coming year.

What if I agree with someone on an issue?
I will listen carefully to how we agree, in the hope that they can further my understanding and nuance, and find more wonder in what I already enjoy.

What if someone is passionate about something I am not?
I will listen to understand their passion, either to further it in them, or to elicit it in myself. Just maybe, the spark of a new interest may burn. I will not put someone down for having different interests to myself.

What if we disagree?
I will assume the disagreement is because of a well-thought out structure. I will endeavour to take the same path they did, and understand their journey.

What if their ideas are dangerous?
I will seek to understand, before I seek to marginalise. Seek to help enlighten them, before I seek to blind them. It is possible I am wrong.

What if they're bored of me?
I will give people polite opportunities to leave, if I can. I will accept that, on the whole, I am bad at reading signals, and should always allow people a chance to get away.

And what if I'm bored?
I will seek to find interest, and something to spark mutual energy.

Mostly, I will try to find the best in people. Find why they live their lives, as they obviously live one I do not.

I will try.

For that is all I can do.

Dear Thomas, Cat

Dear Thomas, cat
I know I talk to you all the time, but sometimes I don't feel like you can understand me
So I thought I'd try to pursue the process of communication somewhat more formally
Cause I know that although you do turn to me when I say your name each day
Do you really know it refers to you, or do you just think it means "hey"?

Dear Thomas, cat
I've known you since we were young, and we've both grown old together
We both confuse the parents with the amount of time we like spending in bad weather
We're both the most energetic and sleepy people anyone could ever meet
When playing games we can both sometimes struggle to admit defeat

Dear Thomas, cat
Do you actually enjoy it when I scratch you and stroke your fur
You certainly seem to approach something approximating a smile and a purr
We've had special games which nearly always involve you trying to catch something I try to whip away
I estimate your expression is contempt when I prod you with something if you don't (but I do) want to play

Dear Thomas, cat
It's kind of long-winded, but what I'm trying to get at in some way is this
It's a habit of mine and your other pets to try to build up a narrative about you while you exist
We try to work out when you're happy, hungry, going out or feeling great
But this game has had to become a slightly darker one of late

Dear Thomas, cat
You were given 6 weeks to live. You're now on 40 weeks and still going
And I'm trying desperately to work out what emotions you are showing
Your face is contorted. Your tongue hangs out. You dribble on every floor
It seems like the cancer must be hurting you. Causing pain, discomfort and more.

Dear Thomas, cat
I want to imagine you're a fighter. I have this great image in my mind
Of you striking back at this disease, a victory for all cat-kind
You do seem happy to see us still. I know this is merely the image I project
But while you're still seeming to smile and purr, I guess we'll assume you're happy to struggle on for just a little while yet.

Age: My Dad is Old

In case you weren't aware, my Dad is old.
It's not his, fault. He's been old since I was born.
But back then he was only old.
Now he's old. Like, he's now nearly 50 old.

And, even though I haven't been around for much of it,
I feel like I added at least half of those myself.
Multiply that by 3 extra siblings,
And you might finally understand how my Dad is wiser and wearier than his years.

Alright, let me back up a bit.
My oldest brother was born when my Dad was two years from my present
And three years past from my brother right now
So maybe he wasn't always so old.

But he's certainly old right now.
Despite his love of Pixar
Despite the way he acts around cats
And, well, ok, maybe he doesn't act *that* old.

Wait, what am I saying?
Ok, let me get on solid ground.
My Dad has been old throughout my life, and, from what I can tell, all of his too.
But that isn't the only thing he's been

He's been a constant force of motivation
While allowing me the freedom to pursue routes he may not think best.
He's been there to guide my taste in books
Even while not being 100% at guiding my taste in music

He's helped encourage me to think for myself
He's been concerned for me, and helped me (sometimes) be concerned for myself
He's been there for meals, even when he's been busy
And, though I hate to admit it, he is rather good at puns.

In short, he's been the old person I needed in my life
Even though I realise now he's had to learn to be old as we go
And though I may slowly be reaching an age to pretend to be old myself
He will always be, my old man.

Happy 50th Dad,
Love Harry (the youngest one).

When it's not just the news

There's a lot of static in modern day life
On a frequency that we just don't tune to
But we catch little snippets and sentences
But don't usually focus long enough to realise

That's how it is for the news for me
I'll catch a story every once in a while
But the rest of the time it's just static
Impersonal. Uninteresting. Irrelevant.

"Today a young man in Liverpool went....Kids today I swear....The average taxpayer can expect....Exciting change in number ten....9 Britons died today.....The church of England has radical new policies....We'll bring you more on this as it happens".

And usually, I don't listen in for more.
Usually, it means nothing to me
Usually I'm quite content to let it happen
Because usually it doesn't affect me.

Until I find out it does. That it does affect me.
That it shouldn't. That statistically, I was safe.
That numbers and percentages are so small, they could be ignored
But some days, the numbers just aren't small enough.

I had a friend die in the MH17 Malaysia airlines plane crash.
I wasn't his closest friend. Even though it hurts, I wont be hurting the most from this.
There are people right now who need prayers and sympathy more than me
And I am going to give the every ounce of it I can muster.

I still feel pain. I know he was a good guy. I knew his smile.
Suddenly the news, read and written by people I will never meet becomes *the* most relevant thing in my life.
"Why aren't they mentioning him?" "Why are they talking about him, let him be".
I've read more news today than I have in a long time.

Because today, those statistics they're talking about, aren't just statistics.
Those statistics mean way more than they ever normally could.
Those statistics mean close friends of mine are crying, are sad, need someone to listen to them.
Today those statistics mean a friend has died.

God bless. To all of you, but to one guy especially.

Off Topic: Last Words

There's a mythology around last words
They supposedly have more impact than all others
The parting imprint we impart on those about to depart
Whether they're the last words of life or last words to an ex-lover

How can a few words sum up
All the experiences that have gone before
Whenever I've found myself saying last words
I always want just a few last words more

Right now, I want to talk about and to each one of you
In turn, saying how you've made my time here unique
How you've encouraged, supported, assisted me and all others
And helped one another when someone's struggling that week

This community of individuals is simply outstanding
The time you've all sacrificed to help others go far
The things we've done, the people we've known
These are the things that define who we are

I don't know what my last words are gonna be
But know that my last words to you are simply this
I hope these are not my last words to you.
Don't grow old without me. I love you all. There's not one of you that I'm not gonna miss


context: this is the poem I wrote and performed for a valediction service (normal language - leavers assembly) for the people in my year who were leaving.

Picture made in 2022. I could have made this neater, but it honestly felt fitting to have it as it is.

Personal: My Fear

While I was playing with magic objects one day
I came across a strange instrument indeed
I knocked it in a very particular way
And out of it some parchment was duly freed

It was scrunched, as though placed back in a rush
It had one big clear line, with disclaimers underlying
"View your future today!" was written in bold brush
"Though you can't change your future, except by dying"

It would be fantastic to know who I'm going to be
There's no doubt that we wonder about it each day
But a future set in stone was not to be for me
Having a definitive path was never my way

But it wasn't just that, you see I have a fear
Concerning exactly what I would hear
That my future is simply one of monotony
Such a curse would be like a lobotomy

That I would get a job earning more than I need
Focusing on the financial legacy I lead
Friends with whom I only talk small
Living a life that isn't a life at all

That I've given up my creativity
Laughing about my past efforts jovially
Becoming of the world, rather than being fascinated by it
Happy to just have a comfy home in which to sit

While I'm aware there are far worse fates I could uncover
Such a life is, I hope, not for me
May I have an interesting life, and then may I have another
Onwards onto uncertainty

Personal:My Room

I don't think people realise just how recently I've come out of my inner shell.

On the outside I was always sociable and interactive

I would always tell people about what I'd done. But never who I was

I've always held beliefs that I don't really talk about

For example, as a pacifist Christian, it's amazing how rarely I discuss these beliefs (possibly out of a desire to still have friends).

It's said by some that analogies are key for understanding

And there's one analogy that fits rather well

See, not many people have ever been in my room

When I was young, we didn't have people over much

My parents were blessed with 4 kids and boy did we bless them hard

So I never got in the habit of having friends visit me

Instead I would have to be invited to visit them

It just so happened my house was a bit offset from my close friends

So even when I was older, it was never my house things happened at

My home was just where I went to be with a busy family

Where I would lose myself in books for lack of anything else

When I got to uni, I was in the most isolated room

Just by chance, everyone else's room was more convenient

I decorated and put on a show, but still

No one really came to visit. And I never really asked them to.

I sort of didn't realise this was the case.

I'd decorate my room, be all presentable

Set up a chair in the corner for people to sit

Then never invite anyone to sit in it.

I'd like to think I'm different now

Just know that if I invite you back to my room

It's cause I want to get to know you better

And maybe chat a little.

Personal: Dancing

I did not dance to please the crowds
No, I danced just for me
I danced hard and I danced loud
As I became the symphony

I danced because it filled in my veins
Because I felt the rhythm
I danced because it healed all pains
And closed up every schism

I danced to know I could dance at all
To marvel that my feet could tap in time
I danced because it made me tall
Even as the beat began to climb

I danced so the music could not fade
To ensure that not one note dropped
I danced because I was afraid
To what would happen if I ever stopped

And now I'm caught up in my tempo
I can't control the pace
And now you may call me yellow
But I don't want to leave this race

Because this dance may be my peak
The most beautiful thing I'll ever do
And now I dance because I'm weak
I dance because I can't bare not to

I dance because I see,
There will never be a second act
So wherever this dance may send me
I will dance it on, and that's a fact

Spoiler: Dancing is a metaphor for poetry.

Personal: I find you beautiful

If I tell you I find you beautiful.
(Which I would absolutely love to by the way)
I mean just that.
That I think you are a beautiful human being.

And I don't just mean in physical beauty,
Though I definitely can't discount that.
I mean there is beauty in the way you talk
In the way you think, act, and walk.

I don't mean that I want to enter a relationship
I don't mean that I want to sleep with you
I don't mean anything else than that,
I don't mean anything else than that I find you beautiful.

See, I find everyone I meet beautiful.
I really wish that these were hyperbolic statements for artistic effect
I really wish they were symbolising me being a "charmer"
It would make my life so much easier

Then when I meet the next beautiful person
I can complement without connotations
Put a smile on their face and go on my way
Without people second-guessing motives

It's just the way I am.
I really do find humans beautiful. And all of them in their own special way.
Him and Her and all of Them and especially You. I mean it.
You are beautiful. And I mean exactly that.

Personal: Scars

Content Warning: self-harm

A lot of my life I spend confused. Not knowing what to do.

I would desperately love to have the answers to everything, but I just don't. Sometimes there are no right answers.

Sometimes this means I make a fool of myself. Those are the times I can deal with.

This is dedicated a friend who will likely never read this.

One skill I've wanted badly from a young age is to notice things other people don't. And if I did notice something I would then pretend that thing defines a person:

I want to notice the colour of your eyes, if you have dimples when you smile,

I want to notice, most of all, if you're having a bad day, so I can offer kind words so I can see if you have dimples again!

What I wasn't prepared to notice was your scars.

My mind jumps to a thousand conclusions, while concluding nothing.

I have to remind myself that I am not Sherlock. I can't tell your past.

All I know is that some scars don't heal, regardless of time.

All I know is that you are fighting.

I have never experienced anything like what you're going through.

I don't know if the fight is over or still raging.

I don't know why you started, or how it ends.

I want to talk to you about them, so I can offer help. But I know that's selfish, because I know you probably want nothing more than to forget they were ever there

So let me just say this.

If I am ever fortunate enough to become close friends with someone who has scars,

They will not be my close friend who has scars,

They will be my close friend.

If you want to take the fight alone, you can take it alone.

If you want to wear your scars with pride then ignore any prejudging moron who jumps to conclusions.

If you want to hide your scars because they aren't you then so be it.

If you are confused then be confused.

Just know that to me, those scars do not define you any more than the colour of your eyes

Any more than your dimples. They don't define you any more than a bad day

But if a bad day ever does turn up. As they sometimes do.

I just want you to know that I'm here. And I'll do my best to make you smile.