Monday, 28 June 2010

Where are the words? (poem)

Where are the words?

Well they float in the skies, and live inside the blood-cells.
They dance upon the being we all live within:
Between person to person, and from group to group,
They solidify the reasoned means.

Where are the words?

Well they exist inside the tongues
Of passionate metaphor and silence,
They exist within the bright shining globe of earth,
And surround the butterfly maze.

Where are the words?

Well they float in rivers and streams of swarming creatures,
Awaiting to express themselves,
And for someone to bless them,
With the nature and social being of care,
And appreciation.

The Barn

There was once an old barn I used to play in, with my friends as a child, which was our secret playing place, but I once told my older brother we went there, telling him to keep it a secret, to which he replied "You are mad! What do you want to go to a dirty old barn for?!".

In the barn, I found a book, called ‘Frankenstien - Behind the Iron Curtain’, which was a critique of the now Old Soviet Union, and which I guessed must have belonged to the farmer. I took the book home, because at that age, I thought it was a horror story about the monster Frankenstien, but I never read it, and I can’t remember what I did with it.

The old barn sometimes had a dead rat in it, and it was very dusty and dirty inside, and we had to climb upon an old rusted, metal tin roof, of the empty cattle area, and squeeze through an empty window space of the old barn, and then jump to the floor inside, and which was quite a high jump for fairly small children.

We were lucky that the empty cattle rusted tin roof never collapsed, because it had fairly big holes in it, but we always managed to climb into the old barn, although it was harder getting out of the barn, as we had to give each other a leg-up or lift, to climb back out the window, and then it was quite a high jump from the empty rusted metal tin empty cattle roof.

I once went to the old barn with two friends called Douglas and Adam, who both went to the same Junior school as me at the time. We all entered the barn, and Adam - Douglas’s younger brother - climbed up into a top floor part of the barn via a thick wooden beam, but part of the floor collapsed, and he fell to the solid concrete ground crying in pain, to which his older brother Douglas just laughed at him. I thought this was very cruel and insensitive of Douglas, and I asked Adam if he was OK. Adam cried for a bit more, but then he said he was OK.

I remember at Junior school, saying to friends "Are you coming out to play tonight? Let’s go to the barn!", as the barn was all our favourite place. We loved that old barn, because it was a challenge getting in and out of it, and of course because it was our very secret playing place. We also loved the old barn because we always felt it was an achievement, and sort of a bit naughty entering the barn, where perhaps we should not have been going, and we always felt safe once we were in the old barn, like it was our special place, where we would chat, laugh, and crack jokes.