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While waiting for the bus to school,
I came upon the weighty problem
Of what to do with my hands and feet.

Unused to such quandries and puzzles,
I first thought the answer to be
Simple, like hands in pockets, and stand on feet.

But unbidden, there came to my mind
A picture of myself, standing on my feet.
A plump girl, with her hands in her pockets.

At last I could stand it no longer
And, taking my hands out of my pockets,
I played with my hair and was content.

But, unbidden, there came to my mind
A picture of myself, standing on my feet.
A plump girl, who plays with her hair.

By now, I was totally fed up of the problem.
As I am sure you are too, but don't like to say!
And it was lucky for me that the bus came next.

So, sitting in the bus, I laughed at myself:
Thinking that I could no longer be taunted
With pictures of myself looking stupid.

And so, I sat on the seat, feet on the floor.
Hands on my lap, resting on my knees.
And I was happy... until a picture came to my mind.


(This poem was probably (as I recollect) written when I was 14 years old)


love's tempestbeginningsself esteemself lovebelongingearly poemsocially awkward

◄ Faith, Love and Honesty

Confusion ►


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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Sun 28th Mar 2021 15:59

Thank you Nigel. Back then, before the internet and still in the footprints of the dinosaurs, the only exposure to poetry was to the lauded published poets and since a beginning poet is so very far from able to write poetry at that standard so many beginning poets just decide that they 'clearly aren't a poet' before they ever have a chance to develop and grow into it.

I'm still going along that journey, and perhaps I'll never get to the highest standard but it is interesting to see what will happen in future, who knows, but I really believe that people should understand that nobody begins writing brilliant poetry.

Sadly I can't really go back to my very earliest poems because before I realised the value of them, still at quite a young age, I threw many away thinking they were worthless and embarrassing.

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Nigel Astell

Sun 28th Mar 2021 13:21

I like the way you are going to the very start of writing poetry and what it meant to you.

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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Fri 26th Mar 2021 23:08

Thank you to everyone who clicked 'Like' for this poem. ?

I and my inner 14 year old self are both very surprised and happy.

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