Dawn. A poem.

Dawn peeks in through the blinds, seeking the one behind
Laying here in bed, yet to face sun and sky
Yet to feel the warmth and to stretch arms wide
Yet to start the day, nothing changed by the night
No miraculous cures or incredible saves
Nothing more than pleasures we indelibly crave
When your feet hit the floor, sunlight leads the way
Every morning follows night
Every night follows day

Sucker Punch. A short tale.

Here is another piece I wrote for a recent course that is now finished, so I’m free to post it.

 

I feel the fist as it hits me hard in the jaw. My head shakes violently; I hear the soft crack at my jawline and a seeping pain overwhelms my thoughts. I stumble sideways, my arms up, guarding my skull. His blows come in a flurry, faster now but imprecise, attempting to break through my defences. At times, he varies his attacks, all of them with self-righteous fury but a lack of finesse and no other purpose than to pummel me into submission.

I feel his knuckles crunch my nose, sharp pain smashing straight through and my skull snapping back and forth like a bobble head on a spring. It gives him an opening and he smacks the side of my head just below my brow, where a ring he is wearing cuts deep. Blood flows freely, down through my eye (sticky, stinging), down my face, along my neck and soaking into my shirt collar. I stumble, my vision blurring, arms still up and aching from bruises that seem to echo through my bones.

Time has slowed, and I sense others pulling him back as I fall to my knees. I’m lucky. At this point he could have taken me out, killed me if he wanted. My mind is adrift in a haze of shapes and motion and as darkness closes in I barely feel the pavement as it greets me with one last sucker punch.

Mirror, Mirror. A poem.

Mirror, mirror
What do you see?
Just a reflection
Of who I could be
Should I rise
Or should I fall
Could this reflection
Be ignored

Mirror, mirror
Who am I here
My imperfections
Perfectly clear
Have I lost my focus
Have I lost my will
Have I fixated on
A bitter pill

Mirror, mirror
Save me tonight
Let me see
A perfect light
Don’t let me waste away
Inside my mind
Let me see the good
That lives inside

Irony in Injury. A poem.

Lying in bed
Frustrated
Lazy days
That pass
Ineffectually
Intellectually
Books and net
Despondency
Navel gazing
And regret

The sooner
I get over this

The sooner
I can do all
The same things

Standing up

Essence. A poem.

The essence of you
Like perfumed tea
A higher state of being
Rain falling on the sea
And the solitude of trees
Taking me away
To a far better place
The essence of you

The Lesson. A poem.

Fitter than I’ve ever been
Big, tanned and super lean
All it took was one little tear
And suddenly I’m geriatric
Limping like an old man
Bent over and wizened
Amazing how an injury
Can make the years catch up
A vision of my future?
Perhaps, perhaps not
I guess I’ll warm up more next time
Before I walk the dog

Not Without My Calf! A true story of cows, muscle fibres and underinflated ego.

Today, I tore my calf muscle.

For those of you not familiar with the calf muscles, they are not part of a cow, but located on the back of your lower leg. They are important for balance, walking, running and generally being human. When you tear your calf muscle it normally happens high up on the back of the leg. It’s similar to an Achilles tendon rupture – you could be walking or running and then you hear a pop and feel intense pain. In my case it felt like the muscle had left the bone. The muscle has major tears in the fibres (muscles are made up of fibres. These present as striations under the skin in very thin people or lean weightlifters – Dr Steve. Note: not a real doctor).

I was running with my friend’s dog (whom I used to walk when I was house sitting recently, and so I’ve kept up the visitation rights) up a steep, slippery, grassy knoll. Nothing could go wrong in that situation, right? Doh.

So, now I’m down and out for several weeks (more if I don’t let it heal properly, but hey, why would I want to use it earlier than recommended?). This is NOT a good thing. As some of you may know (or none of you, based on the number of views on my blog – just kidding), I’m a bit of a fitness fanatic. I work out four days a week, ride and walk regularly. With this injury I can hardly walk at all.

I am going to go cray-cray.

My fitness routine is part of my mental health regime. It’s a vital part. I’m not a fan of depression, and I don’t like the prospect of slipping backwards as a result of my injury.

It also means I can’t drive anywhere (despite the fact that I drove home VERY painfully). I have a manual car (‘stick’ for Americans), and using the clutch is agony. And doesn’t help my recovery time any. So Kung Fu is cancelled. Psych appointments are cancelled. Dinner with friends is cancelled. D&D is cancelled (NOOOOO!!! Notice how the nerdiest activity is missed the most).

At least I can still do my uni work, blog and write my novel. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

Hmmm, I guess I’ll keep telling myself that.

Flutter. A poem.

My heart beat
Skips
Flutters
When you’re near
Not a heart attack
(At least I hope not)
Not indigestion
(Couldn’t be)
Butterflies
Nerves
Anxiety
Confusion
(Obviously)
If only I could
Pull myself together
Long enough
To tell you
How
I
Feel
(Not the indigestion)
Sometimes
I’d like to punch
Myself
In
The
Face
To wake me up
So I could tell you
How much I need you
But by the time I get through
All of this

You’re gone

Damn

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