Poetry is one of those things you either love or hate. Like Marmite. Or is it?
You see I am not a fan of poetry at all. I know it can move the soul and lift you up one moment and crash you down the next, but I just don’t like it. In fact you don’t find many people nowadays that say “oooooooooo I love a good poem” but is that the modern era?
Perhaps if classic poems were created as images or Instagram pics would they suddenly become popular again
and reach a whole new audience through the new social media medium.Is it because everyone is becoming lazy and nowadays you have to actually hunt out poetry? Or simply because people don’t like the hassle involved in finding a good one….. It doesn’t just scroll through your timeline for you to like.
Having said this, being the ever creative soul I am, I have actually written some poems myself. And whilst the purists will probably dismiss each and every one I’ve done, for one reason or another, the length, the prose, the style, in my mind they are poems. Each and every one has a meaning that not only is blatantly apparent to the reader, but it grabs them by the shoulders, shakes them frantically and leaves them gasping for breath afterwards.
Here is the very first poem I ever wrote, dedicated to my Mother who died when I was 21.
When I look at photos of you from the past, It makes me cry to think how fast,
you slipped away without me knowing, and will never see your grandchildren growing.
At the tender age of twenty-one, I was just beginning to get along,
With you as a person, an adult, a friend, and on someone whom I could always depend.
You moved away, to a country new and bright, how was I to know day would soon be night,
My world changed on that fateful day, the day God chose to take you away.
There were so many things I never managed to say, Or thank you for the brilliant way,
You brought me up, taught me right from wrong, and taught me how to get along.
With you I was always one of one, and together girls shopping, we always had fun,
There was always too much to say or do, than for us to spend time, just me and you.
I remember your eyes, your wavy brown hair, the smell of your skin and the perfume you’d wear,
Rive Gauche and Channel Number 5, they’re my perfumes now, how I keep you alive.
I sometimes feel you by my side, when I’m feeling down, upset I cry
out to you in the heavens above, asking for some very special love
Or guidance on a certain matter, oh how I wish I could just sit and natter,
with you on the phone once more, a parting gesture, to tell you just how much I’ve really missed you.
You never got to see your first grandchild, or hold him smell him or see him smile,
Or meet the man who loves me truly, and helped tame your child, who was so unruly,
who rebelled against what you wanted for me, but that is all now history.
I completed a promise I’d made to you, to have not one child alone, but two,
A little girl called Mia Rose appeared, now this is where it gets a little bit weird,
I know you’ve seen her, our child number two, for I saw you there that night, down in SCBU,
Alone in the room I knew you were there, smelt your perfume and saw your hair,
A shadowy figure I saw in the corner, bending over my precious baby daughter,
You looked up at me across the room, smiled, I blinked and then you were gone,
but the smell of your perfume lingered on.
I’m sorry I wasn’t a better daughter, shouldn’t have mucked you around or ever been naughty,
I sometimes feel I was punished for the way I behaved, and that was the reason you were taken away,
You were taken to hospital not feeling right, and slipped away the very next night,
Heaven must have been in an awful mess, for god to need an organiser – the very best,
This is what I got from you, how to tell people what to do.
The spitting image of you I’d be told, wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but you can’t upset the old,
But now I’m flattered to hear those words again, I’ve grown up a lot and can cope with the pain,
Of you watching down from the heavens above, Its all around me, your very special love.
For if I keep my eyes tightly closed, I can hear your name being called…. “Rose”,
I took you for granted, thought you’d always be there, didn’t know you’d leave me alone and scared.
But now I’m older and wiser you see, I think you’d be really proud of me,
I miss you mum, through the good times and bad, I didn’t realise then, just what we had,
I know you will always be here for me, I just have to close my eyes tightly to see,
Your laugh, your smile, your quirky little ways, at night when its quiet do you hear me pray?
Not in pain any longer, away from this world, you left me alone, I’m a brave little girl,
I know up in heaven you’ll always be looking down and keeping your eye on me.
ROSEY HAYMAN 24.02.06
photo acknowledgement thirdplanetfood