Saturday, 22 March 2014

Staying Alive

The days drift on,
with nothing much achieved;
for my father, for myself,
just growing older.
These scales we’re on
weigh heavily on my side.
I give him my hours, my minutes, my seconds
and like a small child with no thought
for the parent
he takes them greedily,
his life shadow lengthening.
What if I can’t outlive him?
What then?
What if there are no more years left
to tumble free?

© Susan Jane Sims

This poem was written last Summer at a Second Light residential writing retreat in Worcestershire. The theme for the week was time.

Second Light is a network of women poets. 

Monday, 17 March 2014

At the bus stop

she was chatting on the phone   
telling her friend that
he hasn’t  seen the kids for weeks     
that she’s been coping alone    
that she worked six days a week
and it was all too much   
that she hated him  she turned away  
lowered her voice   I don’t find him
attractive now   he makes me feel sick  
she lowers her voice  still further   
he says he loves me 
wormed  his way in for coffee
last time he brought the kids back 
tried to touch me
I told him where to go   
now I don’t know where he is

© Susan Jane Sims

I have included this poem here as an example of how inspiration can come from anywhere if you keep your eyes and ears open throughout the day and your notebook handy. When I overheard the above I just happened to be on my way to a writing day with Bath Poetry Cafe. Wendy French was a guest facilitator and reader. This poem arose out of the session with Wendy.