Not Fun, Not Fair #2

Fun house pic

 

He looked like a gypsy
brooding eyes and
wisps of brown curls.
How could I resist when
He invited me to waltz?

I never expected the spinning
to be so dizzying,
or the music so deafening.
He threw a curveball
And won my heart.

Then bought me candy
that sparkled in the bright lights
of the ferris wheel
where we swung high and saw clear
to our cloudless horizon.

On the rollercoaster of reality
we swooped and sunk,
and screams punctuated
the nauseating motion
Of the not-so-merry go round.

We twirled together
down the helter skelter of life
where only dank earth
waited for our landing.
Entwined, we hit the bottom.

We tried the dodgems
but couldn’t escape
our car crash lives
and ended up in a house of horror.
The dark tunnel of lost love.

 

 

 

 

What does fun feel like?

Fun is carefree, laughing, singing, taking risks, dancing, letting your hair down.  As I get older, the opportunities for that sort of fun seem to diminish.  Not because of any lack of ability or motivation, just that, somehow, life gets in the way, and convention says those sort of fun things are for ‘the young folk’. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I spend most of my life doing things I enjoy; yoga, writing, photography, painting, gardening… but am I having ‘fun’ exactly?

I’m young.  Not everybody would agree of course, but despite my ageing 1950s edition container, Me, the Me inside, is still in her twenties.  And this twenty something still loves music, rollercoasters, climbing trees, zip-wiring, fast cars, boats, yep, I’m still an adrenaline junkie whenever I get the chance.  But these days, the best fun I have is when my family are all together, stitching each other up over a board game, or playing something daft on our old games console (cow racing being a favourite), or just basically, being silly. And that’s great, but it doesn’t happen often as my two daughters live at different ends of the country (well, one is in Wales, so not even technically in this country), and their shifts mean they are not often ‘off’ to visit their poor old parents at the same time.  We’ve even had to postpone Christmas some years.

However, this week, after months of waiting, Monday 3rd July finally arrived. Finally, finally, I was off to see one of my all time favourite bands.  I was like an excited kid and the evening couldn’t come quickly enough.

What can I say… GreenDay were magnificent, epic, awesome, incredible…

Every single person in the arena were on their feet, dancing, singing, and shouting for the whole two and half hour set.  They played new stuff and old favourites and it was just fabulous.

And me, yeah, oh did I let my hair down!  I danced and sang til I was hoarse. I chanted and cheered and waved my arms about.  The years dropped off and, transported by the music to a world of my own, I was exhilarated and felt young and free and alive and beautiful.  Never mind that I had a 30 year old daughter dancing next to me, we were the same. Me and the slightly scary young bloke on my left. The one with the piercings and tattoos, yeah, we were the same too. In fact, everyone in that arena, no matter what age, or inclination, or colour, or faith, or difference of any kind, were all the same.  Troubles forgotten in that hot, loud world, we were moving with an energy that could have powered the national grid for a year.  And we were all having the best fun… and yes BillieJoe, I ‘ad the time of my life! Thank you xxx

Getting out of the car park afterwards, now that was quite another matter altogether…!

 

 

Night Duty

You were wheeled in at 20 past 12.
An ancient pupae wrapped in a white cocoon.
Boney and paper skinned,
your eyes were closed,
but your mouth hung open
in the o shape of shock. 

Images of your insides revealed your pain.
The doctors diagnosed,
then told the family the dread news,
while I drowsily fed futile drugs
into your veins
through the cold comfort needle. 

I watched your stillness and wondered,
did you turn gratefully toward the light,
or were you standing on the edge
of the precipice raging
against the injustice of life
completed, and yet, not complete? 

In your absence machines
amplified the mercurial beat
of your quivering heart.
Your breath shallow as a saucer
did not disturb the air as the weary night left
and daylight came, offending my eyes. 

Still I kept watch over your hollow husk
until I was sure you had departed for good.
At 8:30 I called to the whistling porter
waiting In the corridor
who came and wheeled you out
And then I left for home

The Marriage Dance

first dance

Remember when we swayed
clasped body to body,
drunk with love, while people
watched and cooed and cheered

Lost on our rocking boat
the dancefloor filled with friends
and excited children
without us noticing 

I trod on your silk skirts
with my clumsy left feet
tangled, we tripped and laughed
and were both indulgent  

The flowers in your hair
slipped and fell to the floor
and were crushed beneath us
and it didn’t matter 

Then when the beat of the music changed
we drew apart
we misaligned
and we mistimed the rhythm

That tender way we danced
it seems so long ago