At night, rehearsing
Lines too witty and charming
For my walk-on part.
…………………………………..
Any thoughts on this haiku? How do you interpret it? And general suggestions for developments/ improvements? It’s obviously again a classic bit of very amateur, “here’s one I wrote seconds earlier”, poetry 
LAST POST
by Carol Ann Duffy
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If poetry could tell it backwards, true, begin
that moment shrapnel scythed you to the stinking mud…
but you get up, amazed, watch bled bad blood
run upwards from the slime into its wounds;
see lines and lines of British boys rewind
back to their trenches, kiss the photographs from home –
mothers, sweethearts, sisters, younger brothers
not entering the story now
to die and die and die.
Dulce – No – Decorum – No – Pro patria mori.
You walk away.
You walk away; drop your gun (fixed bayonet)
like all your mates do too –
Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert –
and light a cigarette.
There’s coffee in the square,
warm French bread
and all those thousands dead
are shaking dried mud from their hair
and queuing up for home. Freshly alive,
a lad plays Tipperary to the crowd, released
from History; the glistening, healthy horses fit for heroes, kings.
You lean against a wall,
your several million lives still possible
and crammed with love, work, children, talent, English beer, good food.
You see the poet tuck away his pocket-book and smile.
If poetry could truly tell it backwards,
then it would.
…………………..
War is a horrific, horrible thing. I want to say all should refuse to fight, always. “Drop your gun… there’s coffee in the square”. But at the same time, some injustices need to be stood up to. How could we have stopped Hitler without war? Can gross injustice always be stopped through non-militaristic means? If killing someone was the only way to stop them killing just two others, I expect I would do it. Aside from the setting of war, I would think it right to do so. But killing a man simply because he’s in the opposing army? Surely that’s a form of madness? By the time it gets to that point, something has gone horribly wrong, and are we not digging our pit of insanity deeper and deeper the more we fight and kill?
I love Climate Protestors. They epitomise active citizenship, love and creative genius. I’m not sure whether they’re totally right that breaking the law in beautiful, brilliant ways is the only way to save the planet… But I still feel an internal cheer when they do! And in the absence of a better solution, I kinda think, well, at least it’s SOMETHING.
This guy above, Danny Chivers, is terrific 
Actually, I’ll stick this one up too. It needs a proper title, and more importantly, I think it needs a beginning. I thought it up while enjoying (honestly) a ramble across the Lake District with my Pa. Very basic with no real form, punctuation, yada yada yada! But it just made me chuckle as the words assembled into my head, so maybe with later work it’ll be alright:
Ramblers’ poem
Unexpected undulation
En route to our destination
Grows our grumbling frustration
And when then precipitation-
Unforecasted, most unwelcome-
Starts to fall,
It’s clear this expedition,
Which started well,
Will not
End well
At all.
This isn’t a good poem, but hey- no one reads this anyway. If you ARE reading this (which I presume you are), please give me some pointers and constructive criticism. Ta muchly!
ps. Mum- Constructive criticism does not include- stop writing stupid poems and get on with your work. Although that would be a valid suggestion right now… *Dashes off in a flash of light.
Simple Goodness- Sally, 1st April 2008. Edited 17th Oct 2009
Acting properly
Isn’t hard;
Just do what’s right and
Be on your guard.
Follow your conscience!
Follow your heart!
Follow yer ‘ead, lass
(the sensible part)-
The part that’s for others.
The part that’s for pleasure.
The part for the “now”.
That part that’s forever.
Then it ought to be clear
What’s to do and what’s not.
But now you’re fumbling.
What haven’t you got?!
Look:
If it hurts other people,
Or if it hurts you,
Or the dear bless’d creatures,
It ain’t right to do!
If it violates Jesus,
Or the law o’ the land,
Or that of commonsense,
Or it’s otherwise banned,
Or it just doesn’t feel right,
Or you’re told it’s a sin,
Or your duty’s in question,
You just shouldn’t have been
Even giving it thought!
You’ll know if it’s right;
There are books to instruct you.
Reading them might
Have helped your dilemma!
But no, you moved wrong.
(“In moving at all?”)
Well, it shouldn’t be long
Before your soul grabs you
And blasts out your sentence:
“Eternity outcast;
No chance for repentance”
…
And torn from your soul,
You’ll find, somehow…
You Are Loved!
You’re imperfect. Equal.
Equal. Good Enough.
Hello! I have finished my gap year now, so won’t need to keep letting you know I’m alive and volunteering sufficiently hard to justify all the fundraising you helped me with anymore. But, I would like to keep blogging every so often, because it’s basically the most fun and lazy way of writing, and it makes me feel popular.
So if there’s anybody out there, I hope you enjoy the following random bits of brain dribble. Mmmm… dribble….
Is this Sapitwa?
Hand in hand we seized each step
To descend alone
I wrote this little haiku this morning. I’d forgotten to leave time for my contributiont to the last ever GX newsletter, but really wanted to have omething in it- surely I had something to say after 6 months of volunteering together. And this little poem came out, making me a little sad actually!
I was really looking forward to being home again- there’s so much I’ve missed, and it’ll be lovely to be back with people from home, and walking the dog through the lovely woods and moors
But let’s not kid ourselves- leaving is a sad thing. As a team of 18 very different but equally lovely young people, we really have gone through it all together therse past 6 months. I feel like I’m just settling into my host home and I really love it, and now it’s time to go, and not really come back. I’m loving my placement too, and I’ll miss spending the day with my wonderfully fun and sweet supervisor. And I will miss my counterpart very dearly. We’ve had a strong six months together, supporting each other and enjoying each other’s company.
There’s so much to enjoy still, that no onereally feels like moping about. The sun has been hovering over Norfolk for nearly the whole stint here. There are trips, celebrations and meals out every day until we leave. We’re surrounded by people we love! And we’ve achieved and grown so much, and have so many happy memories.
I think the end of the program is hardest for the Malawians. A lot of them joined the program from homes where, materially-speaking, they have nothing. And that is where they are going back to. There’s no use pretending otherwise.
Those of us who are more privelidged can see GX as a springboard to a really fullfilling future brim-full of opportunities. I’ve always chased my dreams-even the most ridiculous ones- because I can believe that “The dreamers of the day are dangerous people, for they dream their dreams with open eyes, and make them come true”. For a young person from a family that is reasonably economically-comfortable, I believe that’s true.
But when you’re trapped in a poor rural village, one of many children of poor parents, in one of the worlds poorest countries, sometimes dreams have to stay just that. That’s reality. I hate to admit it; hope and optimism can take a person far. But only so far, according to their means.
Everyone can go home after GX and live fulfilling lives. But it’s hard to be satisfied with a simple life after you’ve seen and learnt so much. You want to go far, make a difference, use the talents you know you have. And I just hope really hard that some of the wonderful, talented young Malawians on the program are able to fulfill their brilliant potentials.
Another of my newsletter contributions pilferred for blogging purposes:
Clive stepped in to rescue Sally and Wanangwa from GX homelessness a couple of weeks ago, and they were lucky to find him! On the practical front, he has two spare rooms and was willing to host the only mixed-sex counterpart pair. But more importantly, he is an awesome, down-to-earth, kind guy who any volunteer would feel lucky to live with. His living room overlooks King’s Lynn’s beautiful park, so the pair have easy access to all the delights that King’s Lynn has to offer (!). A 45 year-old fireman and born-again Christian with four teenage sons not living at home, he may not match the typical profile of a GX host parent. Still, Clive has quickly become the favourite with Team 88. So let’s find out what Clive has to say about the “GX-perience” (sorry- *groans) after two weeks of hosting:
Welcome Clive! Can we start by finding out why you decided to be a host parent?
Well, I think my answer to that is one people might find interesting. I imagine most people host because of a wish to help out the volunteers, but it wasn’t like that for me. I was having a conversation about the program with Lindie at a church barbeque, and although my house has always been available when people in the church have needed rooms, I’ve never felt I wanted to offer it to them before. But as soon as Lindie talked about the students, I felt I had to give the spare rooms to them. To say it clearly, I thought it was a calling from God saying, “Open your house to these people”. I bet that’s different from the other answers you’ve had isn’t it?!
So what were your expectations or worries before hosting?
My only worry was obviously going from having the freedom of my own house to having other people there. I didn’t have any conceptions or worries about what you’d be like.
So you weren’t scared by the thought of having two unknown teenagers in your house?
Well, I’ve got the bonus of having four sons in their teens, so the idea of having two young people in my house didn’t phase me at all.
And what challenges have you faced so far?
“Challenges” is a strange word to use. I’d say more “adaptations”: adapting to thinking about people again in my own home environment; having to think more about food, like how to cater for the two of you. In terms of challenges, one is communicating to you both equally. Obviously when Wanangwa is here, it’s not so easy to talk to him.
What have you enjoyed about hosting so far?
At the moment it’s nice to have company and just talk to people about things I don’t usually get chance to talk about, like Wanangwa’s home and work, how the day’s been… And it’s been nice to be able to take you out to things like the judo we’ve started going to.
We’ve not been here long, but is there anything you’ve learnt yet from being a host parent?
I’ve learnt how to play some guitar chords! (Should I write that?!) Yeah, put it down! And I can say I’ve learnt something about Malawi, which I knew absolutely nothing about before.
Really? So, what did you know about Malawi before?
No, really nothing. I mean, I would have probably guessed it was in Africa. Another thing I’ve learnt, which is really just confirmation of what I’ve learnt before from interacting with lots of different people, is that we’re all the same, no matter what country you’re from. Meeting Wanangwa, for example- he’s not like a different being! He’s just a person like everyone else.
I think that’ll do. Thanks a lot Clive!
Thank you!
Here’s a poem I wrot for our newsletter:
Scandalous Youths Getting Rich from Voluntary Work
The press cry that, “Youths are all thugs,
Who scare grannies, form gangs and take drugs!”
If they opened their eyes,
To our lifestyles worldwide,
Would they see they’re being taken for mugs?!
Would they recognise Global XChange?
A program no doubt they’d find strange!
“Youths who work overseas?
Then back home (if they squeeze
In the 18-25 age range)?!”
In both countries volunteers live,
With host parents willing to give,
Their hearts (and a room),
To young volunteers whom
The Sun warns you just CAN’T live with.
But our team, Team 88,
Will never give way to such hate.
We care for each other,
Like sisters and brothers,
And, frankly, I think we’re all great!
So for six months we don’t earn a penny,
But find we grow richer than many,
‘Cos though work for yourself,
May bring masses of wealth,
You’ll find your mind won’t amass any.
…………………………………………
And here’s a poem by Michael Rosen that I just found and thought was beautiful:
Today; One Day
Today
The rain has died
My shoes have died
The sun has died
My coat has died
The earth has died
Today.
One day
The rain will flower
My shoes will laugh
The sun will sing
My coat will fly
The earth will dance
One day.
