"jaggy" poems
My lambs wool jumper.
My merciless mind goes traipsing through my time bank of bad memories.
Other people's bad management, misuses from my past .
Coming from nowhere. Coming from everywhere.
The memories just keep on coming .
My brothers . My mother . My father . And my sister.
Not a nice memory . Not a nice word form me.
Egregious individuals. And a devastating pack .
Three letters came one school morning.
I was six and my brothers a little older
The postman posted three brown envelopes
All a little weighty .
With a little bit of money .
We all three got a sixpence.
We all three got a letter.
So unexpected. A complete surprise!
The excitement of a letter.
The two older boys got theirs from God .
They were good boys .
Mine came from the devil .
I was a bad boy .
I was a humphy backit wee nyaff .
In writing . From the devil .
But thought I was a lovely boy .
Big brown eyes brown hair and dimples .
I never felt bad .
I never sought danger or conflict.
But I was .
In the middle of a battlefield.
Theirs .
You are a bad boy . I am a good boy .
You are being a sook . I am being a good boy .
You always want attention. I am an ill boy.
You always show us up . I am a funny boy .
You are stupid and lazy . You are trying to break this boy .
There I was as their swords flew and I battled their rages.
In my armour.
Made from my grandmothers soft wool jumper .
So soft and gentle and protective .
She let me choose the soft lambs wool.
It wasn't jaggy .
It didn't irritate.
It wasn’t abrasive.
And she made up the cost .
With every stitch .
She stitched with love .
With love for me .
Her boy!
The battle rages on inside .
The shell shocked boy now a man .
Still wrapped in the warmth of his gran.
And her protective lambs wool jumper.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:05 PM UTC
I will not plug in, you fools -
you may dazzle, tempt and cajole
with high tech-cessories,
interactive goggles, voice activated,
touchscreen detachment-inducers
But I will smugly refuse.
Because the information you impart,
while instantly comprehensive,
is flawed.
I will hear-see-smell my way
through this beautiful life,
truly connected
and weaving through the cloud-heads
with impunity.
Until -
composing a poem
to explain my superiority
I stumble
and break my ankle
on a jaggy branch
which moments before
a rabbit
unfettered by language
noted
and bounced effortlessly over
before merging
with the quick green undergrowth.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC
Perhaps 't was a fah-tah mawr-gah-nah]
from nord; why your barret leaned out
of the dome's open window; moi mani
Tapping the Sir maine above whiskers.
Years ago I said to a bright boy: I'm
totally broken...and he laughed at
my phrasings; whilst his brother
skateddressed up in brits posh
uniform up hill, with frozen
knees, jaggy at downhill
Awaiting toasts, tea and
A headful of read of delightful SF
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
Sadly, I was born free to poverty
yet enslaved to many things.
I was raised right in the wrong place
So I planned my escape from poverty.
Gladly I liberated myself and my future,
empowered by the sheer will to survive.
I refused to accept the story of my birth,
So I sojourned into the unknown.
I reached beyond the very limits
that poverty placed before me.
I spoke power to self and jumped,
Not knowing if the parachute would work.
Oh, how sweet the fruits of freedom,
How free the paths I scouted for me.
Though jaggy but I know every pothole,
every stump in case I have to crawl back.
IvanBrookspoetry©️
4.25.2019
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC