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March 25, 2016


[The collaboration between John Hansard Gallery and local poets continues and will again once it relocates to Guldhall Square.
My effort in response to this theme was only put on the reserve list but, with five such engaging poets in performance, even I didn’t feel the loss too badly.
nevertheless, for the record, here’s the poem I came up with]:

You Must Read the Signs Correctly

She loved me, I screwed it up
At least that’s how I like to look at it. Nowadays
As one must take responsibility for every aspect of one’s life
Every aspect of life itself, existence and all,
Which is only limited by the limits of our perception;
Your whole life is only that which you can perceive

So the senses must be acute, trained, stimulated, added to if possible
And we like to think that we can learn from what we’ve seen and sensed,
Maybe accept some guidance on occasion from the experience of others
Those who have some special knowledge, training, wisdom, insight, ability, influence
Which we might be able to apply when, inevitably
One goes over those situations in life
That didn’t turn out as one hoped they might.

It’s cheating in a way, of course –
Everything happens at once and only once –
But just in case by some miracle
Or because of the circles we are contained in
By the limits of our perception
We do get a second chance, we want to be ready,
Hope to find some fresh insight so profound
That it might turn a damaging perception around.
So, for example, when I say I love somebody, or any other word
I should always consider what that might mean to them –
To me the natural fulfilment of many a dream
To them an onerous invitation to accept some uncalled for obligation.

I may see love as a beautiful gift
Declare it as an author pronounces his latest truth
While anyone denoted by such a weighty word as love
Must refer to their own understanding of what it entails.
It may mean a lot to me, but in tennis love means nothing
And that is what I find myself served
Though the fault may be mine and the way I keep score.

  1. Fred permalink

    What were thé criteria to be selected? Doctor in poetry from Winchester uni? Thé girlfriend of thé organiser? Thé grand son of John hansard? At thé end of thé day, its like searching for thé assassin.


  2. thought provoking 🙂


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