Feb 2
SPRING DON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER
"Ok..!" shouted Spring
"I know y'are in there..!"
Spring had the house
surrounded.
It had trees stationed
all about my abode
aiming their apple blossom
straight at me.
Already their perfume
had invaded the room.
I had turned into
THE INCREDIBLE SULK
sunk into
a blue funk
there was to be
no escape from.
Even my reflection wouldn't
look at me.
"OK..!' shouted Spring yet again
"...just look out your window....
surely you can see you
don't stand a chance!"
I couldn't help my self
I gave a panicked glance.
Platoons of daffodils
waiting to charge the house
yelling in yellow.
"Ok fella...this is your last chance
I'm going count to then...."
"Alright....alright...it's a fair cop
I'll come quietly!"
I kicked open the door
hands held above my head.
The trees had me
cornered.
The sunlight had me
blinded.
Happiness...sheer ******...happiness
grabbed me by the heart.
"Ok kid...easy now...easy!"
Spring soothed me
"Everything's gonna be ok...
...Ok?"
I sobbed on its shoulder
threw my despair away.
*
I had broken up with my girlfriend and was absolutely desolate. I would go to work and come home and just sit in my room and stare at the white white walls and the little window as it changed from light to dark and back again and...back again. I just cried and cried. Then one day I was walking to work not paying any attention to anything when all of a sudden I was greeted by a bunch of crocus and they were the first things to enter my mind and catch my imagination.
After a year I had finally noticed that something beautiful could possibly happen. And like the ancient mariner I blessed them even though I could not bless myself and I was blessed for loving the crocus just for the beauty of themselves.
The healing had begun and the voice of that wonderful English anchorite Julian of Norwich penetrated my loss and anguish and revealed to me that yes...yes...believe it or not.. . .
‘all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,’
The poem wrote itself inside my head and by the time the Underground had delivered me to my place of work it had emerged into hastily scribbled form and later that day beside the little window and the white white walls I typed it up and ceased crying bit by bit by bit.
"Ok..!" shouted Spring
"I know y'are in there..!"
Spring had the house
surrounded.
It had trees stationed
all about my abode
aiming their apple blossom
straight at me.
Already their perfume
had invaded the room.
I had turned into
THE INCREDIBLE SULK
sunk into
a blue funk
there was to be
no escape from.
Even my reflection wouldn't
look at me.
"OK..!' shouted Spring yet again
"...just look out your window....
surely you can see you
don't stand a chance!"
I couldn't help my self
I gave a panicked glance.
Platoons of daffodils
waiting to charge the house
yelling in yellow.
"Ok fella...this is your last chance
I'm going count to then...."
"Alright....alright...it's a fair cop
I'll come quietly!"
I kicked open the door
hands held above my head.
The trees had me
cornered.
The sunlight had me
blinded.
Happiness...sheer ******...happiness
grabbed me by the heart.
"Ok kid...easy now...easy!"
Spring soothed me
"Everything's gonna be ok...
...Ok?"
I sobbed on its shoulder
threw my despair away.
*
I had broken up with my girlfriend and was absolutely desolate. I would go to work and come home and just sit in my room and stare at the white white walls and the little window as it changed from light to dark and back again and...back again. I just cried and cried. Then one day I was walking to work not paying any attention to anything when all of a sudden I was greeted by a bunch of crocus and they were the first things to enter my mind and catch my imagination.
After a year I had finally noticed that something beautiful could possibly happen. And like the ancient mariner I blessed them even though I could not bless myself and I was blessed for loving the crocus just for the beauty of themselves.
The healing had begun and the voice of that wonderful English anchorite Julian of Norwich penetrated my loss and anguish and revealed to me that yes...yes...believe it or not.. . .
‘all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,’
The poem wrote itself inside my head and by the time the Underground had delivered me to my place of work it had emerged into hastily scribbled form and later that day beside the little window and the white white walls I typed it up and ceased crying bit by bit by bit.
