The school run

Mini-humans converge
drawn but not defeated by routine.
So much colour,
movement,
noise -
so much future in one place
cannot be discreet.

Suddenly
I understand.
Quarts trapped in pint-pots!
Spirits simply too big
to fit still-growing bodies.
So much lifeforce
escaping -
shouting,
rough-and-tumble,
temper tantrums -
excess leaking from
unfinished containers.

Later, on the tram
I find grown-ups existing quietly -
spirits safely tidied away,
folded neatly.
Starched and ironed?
Disassembled,
flat packed,
to take up less space?

I am a coiled spring.
A jack-in-the-box, waiting

I was never any good
at laundry
or woodwork.

childrenSchoolschool run

◄ Origins

Climate change? ►

Comments

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Don Matthews

Sat 21st Sep 2019 00:21

Ah...such is the life of Becky Who. But you are still in the land of the living. Which is good news.

All this too will pass.....(as will many of the treasured things we wished did not....)

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Becky Who

Fri 20th Sep 2019 20:40

Thanks guys. Dunno what impulse made me want to post this here. Hope it pleases!

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Rose Casserley

Fri 20th Sep 2019 18:37

' spirits simply too big to fit still growing bodies ' as fab as every other line that makes up this brill poem.








Rose 💋

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Candice Reineke

Fri 20th Sep 2019 16:56

LOVE this juxtaposition, Becky. 🌷

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Brian Maryon

Fri 20th Sep 2019 16:06

Rumours of your demise have been greatly exaggerated Becky...welcome back!

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