Poem: Sitting on the edge of the tub

SITTING ON THE EDGE OF THE TUB – by brett “Fish” anderson

 

sitting here

perched on the edge of this hot tub

half in, half out

struggling to rationalise my body’s capability

with the extreme temperature that is bubbling back at me

but i’ve been here for a while

and this water sure ain’t getting any cooler

am i getting any braver?

and will i finally slide all the way in?

 

hold that thought.

 

the water doesn’t let up.

taunting me, bubbling back at me

throwing questions like tiny little glass phials of acid

that smash against me, burning new scars down my world-weary body

as they slowly trace new lines into my deeply-weathered skin

who will risk travelling those paths with me?

 

“Just believe!” they hiss

and the bubbling starts up once more

“Remember when believing was just as simple as returning to that half-chewed saddle

on your daddy’s ancient bicycle?”

 

i want to believe.

oh i so desperately crying-out-loud want to believe

and like a desperate father

who has reached the end of his hangman’s rope

and has run out of practical, make-sensical

acceptable ideas

[at least in the eyes of the crowd,

always present, always following him with their eyes]

like a man with no hope

besides hoping to find a hope

that is worth hoping in

[i hope that makes hope?]

i throw myself once again

at the feet of Jesus

and dare to dredge out the almost insubstantial remains

of my battered hope one more time…

 

“i believe!”…

 

and…

nothing.

 

no joyful celebration as the missing coin is found

caught inside the underbelly strands

of the hundredth sheep’s ragged and dirt-filled wool

no trumpet sounds

announcing the upcoming party

as i feel the warmth and tenderness

of the new robe being carefully pulled across my shoulders

no pronouncement of how my story will be told

even as all these other stories will continue to be passed on

 

and not even the yes but no but yes

of a gently spoken, “Go. And sin no more.”

 

as much as i lie gazing up

hoping,

waiting,

and the fiery bubbles continue streaming

eagerly away from me

as i contemplate once more

whether the heat this time has come too close

to completely overwhelming me

and will i finally decide to

drag myself out and away?

to gently dry my feet of this matter…

 

and as all of that and more

happens as a thirteen hour conversation

within the fraction of a second

i am forced to blink.

 

and i see you.

 

and i realise you too are waiting

and that you have always been waiting

as if there is something more to come

as if you have still not found what you’re looking for?

 

the water cries out to me for a commitment…

 

“Help me…” I finally manage to splutter out

with what feels like my last breath

in this moment anyway

and as i direct my weak attention to

the cascading compassion i see

unequivocally raining down from your eyes

and hear the ‘Jesus looked and loved him’

as the poverty-stricken young ruler

lifted himself out of his own diamond-encrusted tub o’ gold

i finally tune into what was missing

and what is still to one more time be said

and as i smile the biggest world-beaten

faith-ravaged hope-seeking half smile

i can barely bring myself to muster

i let go of the sides

and slide into the almost overbearing life-draining scald-like heat of the tub

as my lips carve out the words

“with my unbelief…”

 

i am in once more.

or is that still?

Poetry with Erik with a K: Sea Fever by John Masefield

Here is Erik [with a K] reading Sea Fever by John Masefield recommended by Steve Heineman:

What poem would you love to hear Erik [with a K] read next? Leave your reply in the comments and if you enjoyed this, please SHARE it with your people

[For the first ever Erik with a K poem, click here]

Poetry with Erik with a K: Do Not Go Gentle

Erik [with a K] is back and he wants to read you another one of this favourite poems, this time a classic by Dylan Thomas:

How deeply did this poem move you? What image stood out strongest?

What poem would you like Erik [with a K] to read next?

[To listen to Erik with a K read Sea Fever by John Masefield, click here]

NaPoWriMo: Day 11 – Sapphics

[Our prompt for today departs from such concerns, however. Today, rather than being casual, I challenge you to get rather classically formal, and compose a poem in Sapphics. These are quatrains whose first three lines have eleven syllables, and the fourth, just five. There is also a very strict meter that alternates trochees (a two-syllable foot, with the first syllable stressed, and the second unstressed) and dactyls (a three-syllable foot, with the first syllable stressed and the remainder unstressed). The first three lines consist of two trochees, a dactyl, and two more trochees. The fourth line is a dactyl, followed by a trochee.]

who me? don’t be syllable’y

write a Sapphics you say, as if it’s easy

to squeeze eleven syllables in a line

and just when you’ve got the eleven thing down

break it down to five

but i am not one for following the rules

thank-you for the brief, but i think i will pass

so please keep your syllable count to yourself 

and let me do this

i will write the poem that i want to write 

while everyone else struggles to make theirs “right”

i laugh as i watch them count on their fingers

while i just drop words

will i have regrets? maybe one day i might

but feeling bad about not being a sheep?

well that doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense

so perhaps i won’t

at the end of the day, when the lights go out

i will have the satisfaction of having

done my own thing, created in my own way

who is laughing now?

[Missed some days and so jumped ahead to day 20 to try ans catch up]

NaPoWriMo: Day 10 – Abecedarian

[And now for today’s prompt: Today I challenge you to write an abecedarian poem – a poem with a structure derived from the alphabet. There are a couple of ways of doing this. You could write a poem of 26 words, in which each word begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. You could write a poem of 26 lines, where each line begins with a successive letter.]

Making sense of the letters in my soup

As i gaze out on another African sunset

Black clouds gather in the distance

Creating the possibility of bad weather interrupting my highly anticipated view

Despair might easily set in

Except that i have chosen to rather be filled with hope

Focusing on the beauty that is before me and not

Giving in to the trouble that may lie on the horizon.

Hope lies firmly in sharing in all the good stories being created around me

Instead of listening to the cacophony of anger and pain rising up 

Jostling for position as to who owes what and when will it all just be enough.

Keep calm and breathe, i tell myself

Lest i, like so many others, get swept up in the distressed and depressed

Momentum that seems to be building up around me

Negating those things which would tell us everything is going to be okay

Oh, but will it? i ask myself

Perhaps i am too idealistic or optimistic or over-enthusiastic in my belief that

Questions the tide that seems to be building up so much steam

Reasonable doubt keeps me from throwing in the towel and 

Surrendering like so many who have sold everything and given all their money

To the people selling the plane tickets to the greener grass on the other side

Until you get there and glance back and are surprised by the 

View which lets you know that your grass was greener still

Where will i land on all this?

X marks the spot and right now that spot is beneath the very ground where i stand

You may kill me here but as the very first cut draws blood you will see that

Zuid Afrika runs deeply in my veins…

 

[to return to the beginning of this poetry challenge and catch up on the story so far, click here]

NaPoWriMo: Day 9 – Calligram

[Our prompt for the day (optional, as always) plays of our resources. Today, I challenge you to write a visual poem. If that’s not specific enough, perhaps you can try your hand at a calligram? That’s a poem or other text in which the words are arranged into a specific shape or image.]

Waterless

a

drop

of water

might seem to be

inconsequential but in

these times of incessant drought

even one single solitary drop of water

might feel like a tsunamic wave to the

person who has not seen any sign

of liquid refreshment for weeks

especially if you offer to place

place said drop on

their tongue

[To continue to the next poem, an abecedarian, where each line starts with the next letter of the alphabet, click here]

NaPoWriMo: Day 8 – Palinode

[And now, without further ado, our prompt (optional as always) for Day Eight: today I challenge you to write a palinode. And what’s that? It’s a poem in which the poet retracts a statement made in an earlier poem.]

It has always been you

It has been claimed

This by myself

In previous Aubade,

That coffee was

The thing i dreamt of

When in bed i laid

However, when my wife it read

She was not quite amused

So like a biased judge i now

Consider me recused

You see, she’s always been the one

My lady, tbV

[aka the beautiful Val]

Who slumbers beside me

This “coffee” was a passing fad

A once-off dalliance

And i will make it up to her

If given half a chance

[a little p.s. i must add

if you could keep this quiet

you will know why and understand

just as soon as you try it

i have made peace with my dear wife

we’re stronger than we’ve been

as long as she does never find

my drug patch of caffeine]

[For the next poem in the challenge which is a calligram aka shape poem, click here]