Lost Souls - Poems for the Wilderness Years

I hulp.

A howl and gulp combined

A technique I mastered long ago

To make sure my shame was not on show

As I sat in my heap of hulps.

Oh you won’t see me, no.

For I’ll say ‘never mind’

And put on a smile I honed for show

A lie I learnt so long ago

As I sat in my heap of hulps

I won’t reach out - that’s madness

But burn alone

In a silent chant of ‘I am wrong’

That gets carried away with its own song

Serenading my heap of hulps

For I am so very wrong

That’s what I figured - so it must be so

When my mistakes were put on show

Cos ‘Oh! They’re so funny, don’t you know!’

Those moments that made me hulp.

****

All At Sea

The papers you poke at

Are not (in fact) a disorganised pile,

But a telescope where I can look for miles;

Back to the things I may have missed,

When I mattered more, was less dismissed.

And that broken tea pot

Is not (in fact) ‘random tat’,

But it takes me back to my first flat

With my only love when we laughed and laughed…

My teapot memory life raft.

And the fridge magnets and knickknacks there

Are not (in fact) random clutter,

But memories that unfurl and flutter,

If I were to hold them in my hand;

Like lost treasure dug from within the sand.

The piles of books in every corner

Are not (in fact) a random selection,

But a faithful rudder aiding my direction.

Their words, coordinates to steer me on…

if I just had time to open one.

All this that you say must go

Is not (in fact) what’s at stake

But, like a boat creates a wake,

The consequence of my truth within;

That I’m afraid that I can’t swim.

****

Resolution resignation

What if I don’t want to be the best that I can be?

What if, on reflection, I prefer the mediocre me?

What if I decide to not be so reverential

To my hidden and undoubtedly untapped ‘true potential’?

What if I’m not so bothered about what’s my real life purpose?

What if I’d rather scroll and scroll than live a life of service?

What if the glow of resolutions has worn so very thin?

What if I don’t finish this ‘cos I no longer finish what I...

****

Hunt for Hope

I hunted for Hope in the cupboard.

I looked for it under the stairs.

I searched for Hope in the cookie jar.

I sought it in strangers’ stares.

I asked about Hope at lost property.

I checked my inbox in case.

I poked about under the sofa.

I even went through the waste.

But it was masterly sequestered.

Its camouflage had me tricked.

I was on the edge of despairing,

When something inside me clicked.

I glimpsed it in the squirrel,

Who simply cared not a jot

About whether my plans I’d wanted

Would go ahead or not.

I caught a peek through the spider’s web,

Such beauty from something I’d shun.

I glanced at the hint of suggestion

That came from the winter’s sun

I peeped at it in the planets,

that made me feel so small

and this lit something inside of me,

for none of it matters at all.

For we are alive and that’s magic!

A once in a lifetime chance!

And I caught hope by the hand again

And I asked her once more to dance.