To be young

Posted on by estlh

A few days ago I was having a conversation with someone about attitudes towards young people. Particularly the judgement thrown at them purely for acting like they are young and inexperienced and know less of the world. We have all been there at some point  – we all learn as we travel through life. Admittedly, some of us learn better than others, and sometimes we learn the wrong lessons altogether. But being young is not inherently a bad thing, and is something an individual has absolutely no control over!

This conversation brought to mind a poem I wrote back when I was a youth and was feeling judged for being young. It took a lot of rummaging through old notebooks but I eventually found it. Written when I was just the tender age of 16, here it is

The dying hate us
For we are still being born.
As we laugh and joke
They shake their heads in disapproval;
We are living too much for them.
They love the life they are dying,
why should we live more than they can?

They try to take our life from us
They complain to everyone
And grumble remarks as we pass.
We can do no right.
If we try to live a little bit for them,
To rejuvenate their dying breath,
They do not want to know.
Our life threatens them,
And they are untrusting and suspicious.

Their birth was so long ago,
It is forgotten,
And they cannot understand those
Who live like they’ll die tomorrow.

Explosions and balloons

Posted on by estlh

Posting 2 in 1 today. Although I have not been posting everyday I have actually been writing everyday. Some of what I have written has just been odd lines or stanzas, but here are 2 completed poems.

The first prompt I used was to right about an explosion of joy. As I was short of time, and because I love them, I wrote a haiku.

So incredible
An explosion of pure joy
He said "I love you"

The second prompt I used was to write a poem either about a birthday or to someone on their birthday. This prompt happened to fall on the day my son turned 16, so of course I wrote a poem to him.

You are no longer a babe
Standing tall above me 
As we celebrate this day of your birth 
A day where once there were balloons 
Where parcels were passed, statues danced, and lions slept
But time has passed and 
You have outgrown these things 
Now as you stand next to me 
You stand in a place ‘twixt man and boy 
Know that I will always be 
Stood here beside you 
As you find your feet in a fast changing world 
And take your place in the unfolding tale 

For today let’s just celebrate 
The wonder that is you

Coffee & Conversation

Posted on by estlh

Today I am meeting my son for coffee for the first time. I mean, we’ve been out to coffee shops and the like before as a family, but today I am sitting in one of a national chain of coffee shops waiting for him to make his own way here from school. (Tram and a short walk). My son is 13. He is much like many 13 year old boys I imagine i.e. has to be surgically removed from his phone and thinks playing on the X-box is a daily right. Lately it seemed to me that we weren’t really talking too much. Except at bedtime. Bedtime is when he tells me a bit about his day, when he asks me questions about when I was his age, and when he sometimes asks some very deep philosophical questions. The problem is I am always conscious that it is bedtime, that this is the time he should be going to sleep, so I often find myself cutting the conversation short, because I know if I don’t watch out I will be chatting with him into the wee small hours. He is also master of the Bedtime question; “Mu-um,” he asked once, just as I was turning to leave the room “What’s the Patriachy?” How could I just say goodnight and walk away?
So I asked him if he would meet me for coffee after school, in the understanding that neither of us would get out our phones. Instead I am looking forward to an engaging conversation with my favourite teenager. An intelligent, funny, all round amazing wee man, that I am hugely proud of, and love overwhelmingly.

I wrote this for him just as he was starting high school

Time will march on
Though I wish that it would not.
However I implore them to cease
The hours do not heed me.
I could as likely turn the tide
As stop the hands of time.
But still I would cling to what is
Ignoring the promise of what is to come.
How long can I deceive myself?
If I do not let go all will be prised painfully
From my unyielding grasp.

Change is uncomfortable;
The familiar is dependable.
So please forgive me if I cling a little too tight
For a little too long.
I am learning;
Learning how to love with equal strength yet looser grip.
It feels unnatural
And at first I am uncertain.
Yet as time will march on
I must allow you the space
To try your wings.

Just know this -
I will always catch you when you fall,
And all too soon you will learn to soar
While I gaze pride-fully heavenward.
For now, be patient with me
And just know how very loved you are