Creative Writing 2004

I have dug out some pieces of work from my creative writing class 8 years ago. Make of them what you will. I am reasonably proud of them. There are two poems, three short poems and two short pieces of creative writing. They were of their time but some things never change!
Happen.
Its going to happen
the sky will fall in
the darkness descending
no room for gain
a genuine one that comes
from within
It’s bound to happen
it always does
when you’re up and at it
the bubble gets burst
the air merely seeps out
so you don’t know at first
I know it will happen
just when it should not
when others expect you
to be glad with your lot
so what can I be apart
from someone I’m not
One day it may happen
when the sunshine seems great
the hustle and bustle
doesn’t just irritate
but lifts me and makes me 
feel rid of this weight.
Grange Under Stands
The promenade was very smart
a definite absence of public art
to offend or cause a furore
that would mask the presenting glory
But sadly there was a component missing
of singular & collective life-a-fizzing
all understated and genteel
it left you wondering what to feel
A sadness or despair
for heydays long ago where
families rushed with rapturous glee
to holiday beside the sea
The public planners never learn
that in order for your town to earn
the need in people to return
a fire that will always burn
So throw off your shackles do
 consider that those people are too
under eighty and mobile
not decaying, inanimate and senile.
Poems after lunch.

In my house 
there is one short knight
two fairies
a schoolboy
a school ogre
superwoman
a wee dog
and me
what’s my title?
…………………………….
All he wants is a biscuit
just one might
not be right and when
the rest digest the news
that the tin is open
they’ll all want one.
………………………………
‘I want a stick of celery
and a juicy apple’
a glass of water
you’ll rarely hear
but the rattle of a biscuit tin or 
sweet jar will make you 
temporarily …….popular
The Twig
‘Come one boy, its no more than a twig, go fetch’.
Its alright for him to say that, he doesn’t have to go and get the bloody thing and by the way, it looks freezing in there. The riverbank has a jaggedy edge with loads of grave banks above the water. Ok its not the Limpopo but I am not a big dog.
‘Go and fetch’ he says with an air of frustration mixed in with the enthusiasm.
I bound down to the waters edge onto the gravel. It feels razor sharp on my paws and struggle to find my footing. I hold my breath and jump in, ears back and coat flying. Jesus! that’s cold, keep paddling, you’re nearly there. Got it now, back to the bank. He’s not even looking at me. He’s on that sodding phone again. I run up onto the field, my coat sodden and dripping but with that keen bright look on my face. I shake.
‘You little shit, I’m going to have to go, he’s just soaked me’.
Got you , you ungrateful bastard. Next time it will be me that’s throwing the stick in, not you.
My First Born
You never know when you create a monster. This is only discovered when it is released into an unsuspecting world. I remember that feeling eleven years ago, of warm comfortable pride. She was oblivious to all attention bestowed upon her and just lay there looking so beautiful.
How was I to know that she would develop into the surly, ungainly child I see before me today. She stomps around rather like a two legged filing cabinet, full of emotions and opinions. Anger, sarcasm, tears, ignorance are all filed in the cabinet; waiting to be removed and inserted into any given situation. In fact these will appear for no reason at all and with no provocation. Because of this, my response has to change to any presenting emotion. I am always by those older and wiser than I that this will only get worse as she strides into her teens. I have always believed that I would not allow the transition from childhood to young adult, deteriorate my relationship with my children.
The aforementioned filing cabinet however also contains the qualities that make her the most beautiful thing in the world that laid helpless all those years ago.
Her smile lifts my heart and her laugh is infectious. She is still soft and cuddly and despite her best efforts – gentle and caring.
She is a constant reminder as to why we went on to provide her with so many brothers and sisters. Friends of mine have the desire to raise young adults that are streetwise and smart. Whilst she is sensible and clever, she still displays vulnerability and ignorance in correct measures which are needed to not allow her to grow too quickly. This innocence is often seen nowadays as a weakness but I beg to differ. As I have discovered to my detriment, the world can be a really shitty place, so allowing my children to enjoy their childhood for as long as possible seems the best I can do for them. The qualities she possesses must be filed like an unwanted report, stuffed at the back of a drawer. You only ever wish it to be available to remind you of the good stuff. The difficult aspect of the whole parenthood thing, is accepting that there are external as well as  internal forces that burst forth with no warning or that you have any control of.
In truth, it is the easiest task in the world in the world to love my daughter and her siblings. It is however a whole lot harder to understand or at  times like her and them. I am certain that even though I present my daughter as a maelstrom of personality traits, this does not mean her dad is any different. The only difference being, I have seen a bit more of the world and had a few more buckets of crap thrown over me. What my parents did for me was to show me when the crap would most likely fall and how to dodge most of it. That is the one thing I can offer my beautiful, complex first born.
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