Category: A poem now and then.

Ten reasons NOT to commit suicide.

Here are ten good reasons why committing suicide might not be a good idea.

  1. Circumstances change (sometimes overnight). ‘Leaving’ too early before things have a chance to resolve themselves may be a big mistake.
  2. Someone somewhere needs you.
  3. Someone has to discover your body (which for them could lead to major trauma etc).
  4. Your story needs telling and the best person to tell it without exaggeration and accurately, is YOU.
  5. Someone has to deal with the aftermath. Your clothes, your personal effects etc. Not a pleasant task.
  6. Other people’s guilt. ‘I didn’t do enough to save/help him/her’.
  7. The positive contributions you could have made…GONE.
  8. The BAD/SAD example you leave behind.
  9. The young people in your family and their puzzlement, bewilderment and fear.
  10. You are leaving a ‘YOU’ shaped hole that no-one else can ever fill.

A poem now and then #3 Horse.

I am and have been all my life, a performing circus horse.

And I’ve learnt well the tricks of my trade.

The raising and lowering of my head on command.

The toss of my mane.

And the reward that always comes…that pat on the head.

That lies when it says I am accepted and ‘a good boy’.

That pat on the head that is supposed to make up for the cruelty of it all.

 

See me trot, see me rear.

Whisper manipulations in my ear.

Everything that you believe I want to hear.

See me gallop and take the jump

Finest hay then sugar lump.

All on cue.

Right on course

this fine, obedient,

performing horse.

 

This horse has patience.

From a line well-bred.

Nothing changes.

I want you dead.

 

IFH.

 

A poem now and then. #2 On seeing old folks shopping.

On seeing old folk shopping

Side by side
lumbering.
A herd of wounded rhino
bent backed stick heavy.
Tottering towards termination.
Taken by Tesco trolley towards checkout.

What becomes of the broken hearted?
Alone.
Companion-less.
Worn on the wheel of life
devoid now of the man or woman
they never truly loved but miss all the same.
An empty basket.
No honey
No money
It’s not funny.
It’s life.

Ian Frederick Harris.

 

CONTACT ME.

 

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A poem now and then. #I A DISGUSTING F****ED UP POEM.

A DISGUSTING F****ED UP POEM (on the state of our rivers).

 

Is that Turd I can see

Floating down the river?

Maybe a discarded tissue?

A lunchbox piece of liver?

 

There’s some toilet paper

Someone’s used condom

Brings back sexy memories

Of moments now long gone.

 

Like a magic sail past

All drifting out to sea

This time tomorrow morning

Where on earth will they be?

 

A snake-like bloodied bandage

A hospital repair

Isn’t that a toupee?

Someone’s lost their hair.

 

There.

A ripe banana

Plus selected fruit all vying to be seen.

And look…there’s your favourite colour

It is?

Isn’t it?

GREEN?

 

And see,

here come the animals

Some alive oh what amazing luck

Oh no, wait one sadly, tear-stained second

Isn’t that a rotting duck?

 

Now.

if you’re really lucky

You’ll spot a suicide

Floating along so gracefully

More balletic now they’ve died.

I’m sorry it ended like that for him

I’ve stopped to show respect.

I’ll wait for him to float on by

Before I go for my daily swim.

Ian Frederick Harris.

 

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