Soap

First published 4th January 2020

Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

It may not be the most obvious thing to write about at this time of year, or even at any time of year.

However, it represents, for me, something of a New Year’s resolution, albeit one that I started with before this New Year; in fact before the last few New Years.

I started using soap instead of shower gel as a way of using less plastic. It’s a small contribution to a massive environmental problem, and I’m sure soap itself has negative impacts on the environment.

But I believe in small steps, building up to marathons and mountain climbs.

I make other buying decisions to reduce the impact of my waste on the world, such as buying unpackaged fruit and veg when I can, although I’m still horrified at the amount of ‘stuff’ that goes into our recycling bins.

This relates to an earlier post Poetry Rule No. 9b Keep recycling to a minimum until you’ve got your other priorities right. It may not seem obvious that it does – almost a contradiction in terms – but I will write further posts with further insights from this position. For now, though, I just want to keep this post simple, like the soap I use.

Stitching

First published 23 December 2020

Cross-stitching to be precise.

I’ve spent hours – days even – cross-stitching over the last few months.

A lot of other people must have been cross-stitching too, as all the company websites I’ve bought kits from have had special messages up to say how they are coping with unprecedented demand due to the Covid crisis.

Even so, orders have arrived promptly, and been a joy to work with …

… helping me to gain a sense of being at peace with myself and the world:

There’s something so soothing about the technique of counted cross-stitch, that puts my mind at ease.

I’ve mostly made cards – and some Christmas decorations – to send to people – friends – and it’s lovely to think about these friends as I stitch away.

I’m not great on phone calls or Facebook, but stitching has become my thing. I’m going to try knitting again though, for a while. Knitting’s good too. And macramé: knotting!

Poetry Rule No. 38 Take your time but no one else’s

First published 18 November 2020

Photo by Craig Adderley on Pexels.com

Pedal Pushing

Today I pile on warm clothes
push toes into boots
hands into gloves
fix helmet on head
put pressure on one pedal after another
with grey treads turning on icy tarmac
in reflective waistcoat
I propel myself down the hill
looking like a wasp on wheels

Feet freeze into tennis balls
wind works its way in
between folds
finding skin
it’s an easy ride
but I’m glad to arrive
at work
this morning

Evening comes
and I do it all over again
this time lungs stretch and scream
at the incline that challenges me to stop
but thoughts of home and rest
are the pull

Pushing, pushing, pushing
keeps the wheels turning
until I arrive at the gate
maybe a bit late
hair wet with sweat
pedals finally still
pushing finished
for today

2017

Talking


First published 18 November 2020

Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com

I’ve never been very good at talking.

At primary school I was cast as a mouse in the school play: all I had to do was say “squeak, squeak”.

The career advice I was given at secondary school was to become a librarian. 

I didn’t want to become a librarian (or be a mouse) – I wanted to be able to speak.

There have been times in my life when I felt, finally, that some degree of fluency was coming through. But I’ve never quite reached the point of feeling that I could say what I wanted or needed to say, in any given situation. I think that’s why I’ve turned to writing poetry, because however much the spoken word evades me, and for whatever reason, I can express myself in poetry, one way or another.  It doesn’t mean I don’t end up feeling ‘dumb’ and stupid in conversation when my brain can’t tune in to what is being said.  However, in more positive moments I can also reflect on the many facets of communication, and the importance of being heard, in one way or another.

Cancellation

Originally published 02 November 2020

Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

My holiday was cancelled

and I had to stay at home

I started feeling angry

and even a bit glum

But then I saw the sad news

so many dead at sea

fleeing from their countries

just wanting to be free

I was disappointed

they were lost and drowned

it gave me some perspective

and made me look around

I only had to change my mind

I still had life and breath and limb

I’d only lost a holiday

While they’d lost everything.

2013 & 2017

Poetry Rule No. 35 Learning can be a good way of avoiding being taught

First published 13 October 2020

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels.com

Life is a bowl of cherries

Life is a bowl of cherries
full of plumped up promise
like luscious lips
that are pouting and touting
for kisses

Life is a bowl of cherries
each ripe round fruit
tantalising and taut
held by a stalk
until teeth break into the taste
of sweet, tender flesh

Life is a bowl of cherries
juices savoured and swallowed
stones sucked clean
and spat out
until –
one by one –
the cherries
in the bowl
are all
gone

2017

Poetry Rule No. 13 Something to do with responsibility

Originally published 13 October 2020

Your Hands

Your hand is soft and warm, so beautiful
I want to take a photograph of it
but it seems disrespectful

Delicate and strong
I stroke it and know
it is comforting for you
it is for me too

Your hands are the hands
that cared for me when I was young
they have tended your garden
and left nothing undone

All your life you have cared for others
with your hands and with your heart
warm and soft and kind and strong
I’ll keep your hands within my heart
my whole life long

Dedicated to my Mum, Vera Elsie Baker (née Wallis) 22 May 1921 to March 2015 & my Dad, Albany Baker 22 August 1910 to February 1992. Both had amazing, strong, caring hands.