Over Again

There are things which
I would change in my education
No doubt also for you
If it helps cross mine out, replace with yours

I would keep the Mathematics, and the Sport
(But not the cross country)
I was good at both, and they served me well

I would keep Art, and English
But taught quite differently
Taught by doing, not by learning
Taught by getting heaps of exposure
Taught by getting masses of positive feedback

For the sciences Physics is a maybe
(After all I did become an Electrical Engineer)
But Biology, and Chemistry are not for me
How many times have I used the table of elements
Or had to dissect a pickled big toe

I would have Conversation, Social Skills, Meditation
And something about Psyche and Psychology
Providing one with the skill set
To enable one to explore oneself

I would have an Understanding of Confidence
And how to achieve it
Also an exploration of doubt
And how to keep it in check, or avoid it

I haven’t mentioned History
Mainly because I don’t know where I stand
If it is essential then I would have to place it in context
Not simply to learn lists of names and dates
And anyway who did win the battle of Bosworth field
And did it matter (and did it matter that I knew)

Nearly at the end, yes I know
We could go on and on
But for now I turn to Music, and Religious Studies

I am at that stage of life where music, and spirituality
Both bring me great solace and inspiration
If only they could have been explored
With more imagination in my youth
Instead of being served up as something
You could or couldn’t do
Something you could or couldn’t understand
Something you could or couldn’t care less about

I will end with Creativity, whatever that means
But I would have at least one class every day
And two, on Mondays and Fridays

PS

I forgot altogether about Languages
And no wonder
In my case it was French, I hated it
And I was totally useless
My teacher was a brutal bully
Without an ounce of empathy, or an inch of style
But if it had been Rousseau, or Sartre, well yes
Then I might have gone the extra mile

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Conversation

Hello Christopher

O, hello (I wish I could remember your name)

It’s been a while hasn’t it, are you still writing

O, yes (so I must have met you at a writing do)

I so enjoyed the piece you wrote about being over there while still being over here

O, wow (some time back then, when I was intrigued by Godot)

It is difficult don’t you think, to not just follow the rules, to try to find your own style and stick with it

O, I suppose (I never did learn the rules, and as for style I never found one anywhere)

I’ve got a new collection coming out, it’s about make-up, and why it’s now women not men who wear it

O, good (I never saw originality has her strong suit, but I won’t say so right now)

The idea came to me in Venice, when I was buying a mask for the grand ball

O, indeed (another impoverished poet, I’m not sure I want to remember your name)

Yes, it will be out in spring, you will come to the launch party won’t you

O, well (who is the publisher, will I get the chance to name drop)

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Half A Mind

I open up to the physiotherapist
Say that I do want to do as he asks
But look, I just cannot move my arm

He moves it for me, without undue pain
A lot of trouble is in the head you see
Yes I say, for these past twelve months

I have been protecting my left shoulder
Bending, and shaping
In all sorts of unnatural ways

To prevent work for that muscular area
In the meantime the physiotherapist says
You have forgotten how to relax Christopher

Always you are tense
Always you are overcompensating
And yet all the while

I have been meditating
I have been learning to still the mind
Learning to be mindfully aware

But I have neglected to be aware of my body
And why should it now play ball
Right now, just because I want it to

No, no, first for sure
My body will say, Christopher
You must go through the pain barrier

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Up And About

A sort of mental callisthenics
Sterling University remembered
To have met all of those people
Yet not now know a single one

Strong winter light falls
Onto building surfaces, and furniture
Strong winter thoughts move in
Around the early morning dumb-struck cells

Assembling into a sort of set, as you might find
In a theorem, or hypothesis
Lights which may eventually merge
Yet often seem to go their own way

A cold wind, with cold energy
Rustles the bushes and the trees
The evergreens, and the annuals
Take time to sidestep, to survive

A sort of defence mechanism
As carried by most everyone
That life should go on, and on
For how else to avoid grief

Disparate thoughts, one by one
Here only for the learning of
Other universities, with games
With which to start the day so well

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Conscious of Consciousness

I am in that shallow place
Thinking about I
I am in that hollow space
Thinking about why

About why Colin Tinker and me
Played football on our own
About why he was so good you see
And my parents were not at home

I am on that dodgy race
To feeling sorry for myself
Recalling how the hunt we chased
Killing, with our abundant wealth

With a viewpoint from that sycamore tree
Swaying calmly in the wind
Movements of ease to set one free
With no thoughts of love to rescind

I am seeking out that grace
Which morning light does bring
Thinking, that to turn about face
Will in no way cause the bells to ring

Neither, neither, neither the tea
Which I happily, and slowly, sip
Thinking not of what I wish to be
But how indeed I may learn to skip

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