By Holly Shearer. I’m pretty sure I’m not on my own in the fact that I sometimes enjoy reading the odd poem or two. I’ve even written some in the past. (Not confident enough to try and publish any.) See, I do believe the problem with my poetry is, it’s just too heavy, emotional and […]
This May it’s Deaf Awareness Week,
And it’s visibility that we seek.
I have a hearing aid in one ear,
On diagnosis I was filled with fear,
But meeting others and making friends,
Has calmed my anxiety and made amends,
For the shock and lonliness I once felt,
From this hearing diagnosis I was dealt.
I love my hearing aid now you see,
There’s no one else I’d rather be,
It’s useful I can’t hear some of the chat,
That pollutes our world but more than that,
I’m learning to lip read and be more aware,
To face others and to bare –
My mouth so others can see,
The words that are spilling out of me.
To be conscious of environments that are too loud,
Avoiding the centre of a crowd,
Speaking clearly but not to patronise,
And I’m becoming wise,
To repeating and never saying “it doesn’t matter”,
Why should anyone miss out on the chatter.
My hearing aid doesn’t mean I don’t understand,
It means I might need a helping hand,
I’m still just as clever and alert as you,
You don’t need to dull down the things you do,
Just smile, say hello and be aware,
And if I show you, you don’t have to stare,
Im still just me with a little extra hearing assistance,
Really I’m just living an X-Men type existence!
Love heart umbrella, twirling and red,
I’d rather be wrapped up in bed,
Heavy teardrops falling from the sky,
Soaking my jeans as I wander by.
Why does the wind want to turn me inside out,
Someone block up the sky’s water spout!
Wet and cold, my jeans stick to my skin,
Jeans this wet feel like a sin.
A childhood memory of wetting my tights,
Too far from home or sudden frights.
Grown up now but just as wet,
It’s not a dunking, or a Facebook bet,
The weather is against me, I’ll never win,
Dripping and struggling along with my kin.
At work the hand-dryer angles down,
A warm rush of air to smooth my frown.
Warm and sheltered now and almost dry,
How could I not be miserable when the sky decides to cry.
I’ve just eaten my weight in food,
That’s not possible but I’m in that mood,
A foodie treat is just the thing,
Some chorizo or a chicken wing.
Food is for fuel scientists say,
Food is also tastey, wahey!
Michelin star or gourmet,
Ice-cream whilst you watch a play!
Food cheers me up when I feel down inside,
But food is not the place to hide.
It’s yummy and it gives us what we need,
I can’t live off quinoa or some seed.
It’s finding a balance with what we eat,
Veg and fibre as well as meat.
One more chip though and I’ll be done,
Oh no, it’s happened again, food has won!
I lost my Dad a year and a half ago. He was only 60.
For the first year or so I felt so many conflicting emotions that I can’t put that time into words. After the first year of a huge loss you realise life goes on and you try to carry on without them. Most of the time you do and you are fine. Other times, grief hits you with a wave so strong it makes your knees buckle and you end up crying, barefoot on the stairs. I don’t know why it matters that I was barefoot, I guess it adds to my state of vunerability! If there was any Lego near by it would be like “go,go,go” now’s our chance she’s barefoot so she will step on us and swear and hop around and then she might actually put us away. I don’t have kids so there is no lego, although my husband would have a box of it in the bedroom if he got his way.
Back to grief. It’s important to grieve. It’s important to miss that person who was such a big part of your life. To me it feels respectful to their memory. But they also wouldnt want us to be miserable all the time.
Then there’s the guilt. In the months after they die every laugh feels like a betrayal. And even a year and a half on, enjoying things that my Dad would have loved makes me feel sad. I’ve even put off learning to drive because he said he wanted to teach me! I’m 31, I really should be able to drive!
Today I feel sad. There is nothing that’s triggered it really, I just miss my Dad. That’s all. I just want to give him a hug and feel his spiky moustache on my cheek and tell him I love him.
Mother, Mum, Mama, mummy, you there,
The person that encouraged you not to swear.
The one who made you your absolute best,
And who also comments if you’ve got a stain on your vest.
So often overlooked but always there,
For a cuddle or a reprimanding stare.
Not just a mother but a human being,
Who made do whilst you were screaming and weeing,
Who talced your doughey skin to stop the nappy chafe,
And sacrificed so much to keep you safe.
Mum you annoy me like no other,
But you really are the most nuanced, strong and wonderful mother!