Lost in Literature

30/04/2020 – Iso Well Being Compilation



I’ve journeyed to the depths of the ocean

With none other than the archangel of hate;

We battled giant tentacled beasts

And explored the ruins left of Atlantis.

I’ve stepped through the looking glass

Into an unfamiliar world

Where everything is sideways,

Back to front and upside down.

I’ve travelled through the volcanic tubes

To the centre of the Earth,

Fought prehistoric monsters

Long believed to be no more.

I’ve climbed through the wardrobe

To a land of ice and snow

While outside the sun beats down

On a glorious summer day.

I’ve fallen into a dreamland

Where memories do not exist;

Fantastical beasts roam the land

In never ending mystery.

I’ve consorted with the last knight

In search of a tower dark

Where magic, war and fellowship

Surround me at every turn.

I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole,

Lost in a world of make believe.

Reality is frozen now,

Leaving but a bubble of fantasy.

Growing Older

29/04/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation



George Burns once said that

You can’t help getting older,

But you don’t have to get old,

And I think that may be the philosophy

By which I have been living my life,

Except that I’ve always framed it

As the difference between getting old

And growing up.



I’ve never felt the need to grow up,

To let go of the childishness

Of play and wonder and creativity.

And speaking to my mother,

She often says to me that

She’s never felt like a proper grown up,

And I wonder if any of us really do

Or if it’s just a delusion we perpetuate.



We worry about the ravages of age,

The frailty and the infirmity of the body

And the degradation of the mind,

And if we would want to live that way,

With a mind trapped in a broken body

Or a willing body but a mind erased;

Could we not have a finite existence
And know our end date in advance?

Waking Up

28/04/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation



What is this fog that has lifted from my eyes?

I have woken, and seen reality.



All my fears that I have carried with me

Are stretched out before me.



None slain by the harsh light of day.

Every wound only in my side.



The echoes of a thousand pages unread

Filling my ears with silence.



A condemnation by my own vanity

That I should be loved.



What fate worse than death is now here?

It is my friend, obscurity.



Swallowed by the void of human insecurity

Played out as bravado.



Connections lie tenuously across space and time

Waiting to be ripped apart.



It may be the most innocuous of comments,

Taken out of context.



Perhaps a joke played out too many times,

Its novelty worn thin.



A genuine offer rejected without thought

For a better, fleeting one.



A call for help unheard or ignored outright

Because it’s too much trouble.



Trust has been forsaken in this world.

Never to be rebuilt.



There lies a chasm between the façade

And what lies within.



The idea that these words carry weight

Breaks the heart in two.



Bring back that all-encompassing haze

Where I can hide.



Let me secrete myself somewhere safe

Beyond the terrible truth.



What worth there may be residing in me

Is a shallow pool, indeed.



Never topped up, it drains ever more,
Leaving but an empty shell.

Falling Asleep

27/04/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation



I sometimes have trouble falling asleep.

I stare at the ceiling in the dark.

A myriad of thoughts envelop me,

Causing neurons to fire,

Memories to burn through me,

Thoughts to cascade from my brain.



What if I’d said this, or not said that?

What if I’d take the holiday,

Or quite the job, or taken the deal?

Who would attend my funeral?

What flowers would they choose?

Would they even look at what I wanted?



Remember when you broke that promise,

And when you lied to your mum,

Or when you cheated on that test?

It doesn’t matter when it was –

Today, yesterday, last week …

Maybe twenty years ago.



All those new years resolutions you’ve broken,

The one where you’d lose weight,

Not care what other people thought,

Made more time for things you like doing?

All those things where you let life get in the way

And beat yourself up for later.



Remember when you were three,

Your friends mum chased you down the beach

Because she thought you’d thrown sand

At her precious daughter

Who could do no wrong, of course,

But had started the whole thing?



Did you lock the car when you came home?

You had work on your mind, distracted,

And you could have easily forgotten.

Not that it’s worth stealing.

But there’s that jacket you like

Draped on the back seat, just in case.



But what about when you were thirteen

And your dad took you skiing

But there were the guys he hung out with

Who thought you were older than you were,

And you didn’t like how they acted

Or spoke, or looked at you.



Oh, and there’s that meeting tomorrow

That you should have prepared for more

But now you can’t remember anything

About what you’re meant to be discussing

And there’s no way you’re not going to get fired

Because who’d want to employ you, anyway.



And



And


And why can I see stars that are so far away?

Mother’s perfume

26/04/2020 – Iso Well-Being Compilation



Mother doesn’t wear perfume.

She sees no reason.

“Why do I need it?”

She says, before colouring her hair

So the grey won’t show through.



Mother doesn’t wear perfume.

It costs too much.

“I don’t need it,”

She says, while paying for makeup

She will need to replace, again, in a month.



Mother doesn’t wear perfume.

It’s frivolous to her.

“What’s the use?”

She says, as she tries on shoes

She will not wear to any function.


Mother doesn’t wear perfume.

Mary Anning

25/04/2020 – Iso Well Being Compilation



Mary, Mary, quite contrary

To overwhelming public opinion

She proved beyond doubt,

Without so much as a shout,

That women could science as well.



Her name may be known in the circles

Of Palaeontologist types

But wider acclaim was not known,

And other names overblown,

Until much later on in the game.



Growing up in a coastal community

With a father who sold fossils on the side,

She was struck by lightning

And, though it was frightening,

She survived and positively bloomed.



Her interest in rocks began early,

With geology just starting to shine.

The cliffs at her door,

Snake stones of the floor,

And the devil’s fingers for sale by the gate.



Her life is was never easy,

With her father passing remarkably young.

Leading a dissenter’s life,
Leaving an indebted wife,

His children carried on the trade.



Brother Joseph dug up a large head,

An Ichthyosaur skull to be precise.

Not to be outdone

Mary had fun

Digging up the rest of the bones.



The skeleton was sold to one Mr Henly

For the sum of twenty-three pounds.

But though they searched the bluff

It was not close to enough

To help with paying the bills.



From Lincolnshire came a fine fellow,

A Lieutenant-Colonel by the name of Birch.

His heart it was kind

When he did find

That Mary’s family were so dreadfully poor.



He took his collection so exquisite,

Most found on the ground by poor Mary,

And auctioned them off

To many a toff,

And set the Annings on a steadier path.



Over the years she continued to find

Fossils of a variety of sizes.

Her reputation soared

And she never grew bored

Even when the cliffs took her beloved dog.



At twenty-four she found a Plesiosaur

The first intact and complete.

A flying dragon was next,

Her muscles she flexed,

As it hung at the British Museum.



Despite a schooling that was lacking somewhat,

She educated herself with aplomb.

She’d converse with a professor

Who’d think her none the lesser

For having taught what she knew to herself.



But the world of palaeontology

And the study of geology as well

Were closed to women

Only let him in,

And left Mary somewhat resentful.



The men who bought her fossils

Published the finds for only themselves.

No credit was given

Though others had striven

To find the objects on public display.



Over the years, Mary’s comprehension grew,

And she was considered to have great expertise.

They valued her knowledge

But on return to college

Few made note of her skills.



Financial woes once again found Mary

And friends came to her aide.

An annuity was awarded

As her accomplishments lauded

And her finances were secured to some extent.



She died from cancer of the breast,

Taken in what, today, would be her prime.

A stained window was made

That her memory not fade

And given the recognition she had been denied.



Her discoveries expanded our knowledge

And were evidence of a nature vital.

Such leaps and bounds

Covered the ground

Upon which the study of extinction would grow.



Her name can be found as you wander

Through many a natural history museum.

 With Anningasaura

Named lovingly for her

As well as many other fossilised things.



So Mary was indeed quite contrary,

Not silenced even in death.

Her legacy before us,

The Icthyosaurus,
Inspiring girls far and wide to dig.

Drowning

24/04/2020 Iso Well-Being Compilation



It feels like I’m drowning,

Sucked under by the current.

It’s interminably slow.



My eyes want to close

But I can’t let them.

I can’t sleep now.



I’m trying to breathe.

Trying to keep my head above water

When it would be so easy to let go.



There’s an ache all through me,

Like I’ve run a hundred marathons

Barefoot and without rest.



Even my heart aches:

A horrific, slow ache

That never leaves.



But while I’m clawing up

There’s little to hold on to.

I don’t know which way is up.



Instead of hearing my screams

They drown them out

With their own noise.



Instead of a helping hand

I’m being held down,

Held under.



Instead of being the calm,

They are the storm

And I weep.



I pray to an empty sky

For a lifeboat that won’t come

As wave after wave overwhelms me.



I cry as I go under,

Sob into the void,

Tasting the salt on my lips.



This dirty mask is no protection

Still I drown down here

And dream of what might have been.

The Scarf

23/04/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation



I wore it like a firebrand,

Slung about my neck,

Protecting me from all that came

With fierce determination.



The richness of its colour

Pumps like blood through my veins,

Giving me life as I stood

In the midst of enemies.



Their eyes fixate up on it,

Wanting to charge me down,

But this hero needs no cape

In this forsaken town.



My passion exudes though it,

A vehicle for my love,

Identifying without a word

To my fellow cygne amateur.



Its hue is smeared across my face

In tribal solidarity,

Bearing witness to my ardour,

The warpaint of my time.



I would roll it out like carpet

For the warriors I fervently follow

Their deeds the stuff of legends,

Recounted for years to come.



And it stands as a warning

For all who come before

To take heed of this army –

Blood brothers through and through.

Night Time

22/04/2020 - Iso Poetry Compilation



The night is very different now

It wraps around me as a warm embrace,

Not cold and unfeeling as it once was,

And protects me from the day.



Under its velveted expanse

I soak in knowledge and wisdom,

Transported to distant places

By unfamiliar faces.



Where once the shadows frightened

They cradle me to sleep;

And far off lights twinkle joyously

To lead me on my way.