Poetry

Tracy Jarvis writes “Thought I’d blog this. Sometimes I feel so lucky to be studying this artform. Especially when I see and look around every day.”

I often wonder about the world
I wonder about the people
I see the homeless every day
I think about them

I remember a man
Convulsing, skin so blue
Almost a coma
An addict
I presumed drugs and alcohol
Maybe a mixture
I didn’t care
The stench

A Life.

I looked through him
Our unconscious met
I saw him, just a boy
Only a boy
Nothing else
The ambulance came

I drove down the road
The sky so blue
The smell of summer and sweetness
The sound of trees
Delightful

Then I saw him
That boy
That boy with a beard
His skin so soft, unshaven
His bristles alive and well

I looked at him
I smiled
My eyes smiled tears of joy
And my heart sank
I cried

I still wonder about him.

Last week I rode past a needle
I stared, I still do
How many lives has it taken?
How many boys?
How many girls?

Aren’t we just the same?
Separated by our ability of choice

Tracy Jarvis says of this poem, “I wrote it last night, unable to sleep. I realised I’m stuck in one big T.O.T (T.O.T.E without the exit) and I don’t know how to exit? Its like I’m trying to get something, and I realised I’ve had enough. I’m considering an exit and it feels rather scary. Maybe some more fish, a bigger fish tank or the ocean….the possibilities seem endless…”

Goldfish!

The bowl is round
The sand is yellow
There is a piece of seaweed

You are well looked after
Your water is changed
And you are well fed

You swim

The bowl is round
The sand is yellow
There is a piece of seaweed

You play

The bowl is round
The sand is yellow
There is a piece of seaweed

You dance

The bowl is round
The sand is yellow
There is a piece of seaweed

You look at yourself.

“Did it ever ocur to you that
The bowl is round
The sand is yellow
There is a piece of seaweed”