Showstop (jhewsyol)

I dream I’m not on a train with 200 other people
(I didn’t count them all, just my carriage before extrapolating)
but in the thick of all that’s troubling me, wading through the minefields
of love and friendship

and though by day I long for simplicity –
that we can be without reproach or interruption –
I shake awake, still on the train,
and pine, thinking ‘at least it was exciting’.

[No, I’m not quite sure what this piece is either.]


After such a battle 

Comes reconciliation 

It’s only right we soften

And get a little closer

The matchups likely different

The reasons could be many:

Humour, or attraction

Or random ‘just to trick them’

Lying, blind, defenceless

Expecting gentle actions

Then once the deed is done

Ponder – time to match them

Was there stubble, a caress?

How much of them in total?

The accused all stood in line

Hoping you don’t know

Guesses made and truth confirmed

The roles will then reverse

And after say we must play again soon,

my favourite call: Mystery Spoon


[More drama with no intro, it could of course only be another ultimate call! See the previous like-themed piece Look Up/Look Down for a more complete explanation. Basically, you each anonymously spoon a member of the opposite team and then they play detective. Fun if, like many frisbee players, you’re overly tactile, sexually repressed or just generally cuddly.]

Sands of Time

[Just a little piece I wrote after a lovely weekend back in the seaside county of Cornwall, where I grew up and love going back to. Shout out to Bex and Dan whose wedding was absolutely wonderful!]

Fragments of rock cling to me
like memories of childhood days
Rose-tinted and sweeter now
We never knew our luck

For all I’ve grown: pain & love
& tribulations – it’s effortless
to come back here, too familiar –
as if nothing changes in lazy days
under a benevolent sun –
and the years slide from my shoulders,
a kid again

I embrace this relapse from my half-adult life:
grown and flown the nest but still
clueless, pockmarked with fear &
uncertainty, wide eyes rolling
through grad jobs, leases &
pension policies; searching for my
place in this mature world
“what are your plans?”

shit, i don’t know. the only thing mature about me is my taste in cheddar.

[Let me know if the final line ruins or enhances it. The permanent version will be decided by public opinion so get voting!]