What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

You’ve been asking me since I was fourteen

And I still don’t have an answer for you

Tell me where my path will lead

And in which way I should guide the steed

You started really pushing when I turned sixteen

I felt the pressure looming and buried myself in

A range of subjects and exams

Better not to worry about it

You became insistent for an answer at eighteen

Angry when there was no reply

Silence when I moved away

And relief when I held my certificate high

Yet now when I am twenty one

With grades and experiences

And an understanding of where my strengths lie

I still stutter when delivering my answer.

Little Ginge x

A Bad Fetch

I dreamed of blue skies and canine friends that lived forever
In return I received dark clouds and a grief that never heals
The pooch deserved to live on, past his seventeen years
But instead he died, as they must, and so came the tears
And now we have others, and I love them, I do

But you caught balls, and they just run.

Little Ginge x

Poppy

He walked ten paces to reach the war
Already there when he closed the door

The children cry to get to sleep
They enact the feelings I’ve buried deep

The war still goes on outside these walls
But my lover won’t be making any calls

They dug a hole deep foot six

And laid my heart to rest in bits.

 

Little Ginge x

Prawns

A bundle of newness
Raw as the sunlight
Fitful cries that stir deep emotions
I had sought to bury
My cold heart thaws like ice in summer
It’s moisture seeping through my veins
The tiny prawn-like fingers
Reach for mine
Searching for a connection
Seeking to fix my broken instinct
They succeed
The bitterness was hard to taste.


Little Ginge x

Middle Child

My mother put glasses on the dog again
My father fagged it in the shed
My sister went on a rant again
My brother banged his head
I lifted the gun from the mantelpiece again

Pulled the trigger till I was dead.

 

Little Ginge x

Blood In The Water

Trickles; seeping into every pore
No gap left unfilled
Concrete of the nicest kind
Proving that affections can be cut
with the right kind of knife
Words, actions, misinterpreted trust
Smears like paint
Smell; just as potent
Blood can’t be cut
merely separated
Ready to rebuild from the dregs
or mix anew

Family is strong
but to see blood
means an act of violence
Family means war
an endeavour that
tears bonds apart
Family is weak
but I’d be anaemic
without mine

I pick the covenant
because it is more colourful
than water of the womb
and colour means life

which I choose.

 

Little Ginge x

Favourite Sore

We’ve fought, we’ve bickered
At every failure; snickered
Took the good with the tough
The smooth with the rough
Some words were saddening
Others were maddening
The silent judge
Without a grudge
Bittersweet connection
Unlimited affection
The un-poppable blister

Is you, my sister.

 

 

Little Ginge x

Brotherly Love

Dear Brother,

Where is the boy I played childish games with?

I played robber, you played cop

I was the bandit with the flaw for honesty

And you were a cop with a taste for perks

You even had a thirst for bruises then

As long as they were not your own

So what happened, I’m trying to understand.

Condescending Do-Gooder.

Dear Brother,

Do not try your lawyer talk with me

They read every single word I write

The way I remember our childhood is

A power game based on affection

Doled out by a tired woman with no time

To be a mother; nothing’s changed

Self-defence; ’bout time you heard my plea.

Wrongly Indicted.

Little Ginge x

Pages Of A Man

Walk through walls

Door goes crick-craw

Bellowing out your presence

To the ones you visited before

It all became a nightmare

Keys disappear from the bowl

They now rattle in the top drawer

Playing games just like you used to

Seems some things haven’t changed since

It all became a nightmare

Except the beds lost its shape

The smell of tobacco is vanishing

Fading reminders of your being

Soon you’ll become a memorable chapter

Simply called ‘the nightmare’.

Little Ginge x

Reception

The distance lessens through a phone line

But the neighbours TV interferes with reception

It infuriates me so much because they’re included

In a moment they weren’t invited to

It stops me saying all the things I’ve been meaning to

And instead we discuss the mundane

I hang up and I realise we said nothing of importance

The miles between us becomes apparent once more

And I’m back to square one

Missing you and not quite having the guts to say it.

Little Ginge x