I'm determined to only post poems for NaPoWriMo finished and then posted on the day before midnight and I've managed it so far.
I hope your poems are going well. We're third of the way through!
Love Mark x
A Boy called David
not high-functioning in a band of boys
where function is optional.
A band of brothers some might
write off. But they’re just lads
into football, comedy, girls
and being rude. Rude to each other,
about each other
and those very special saints
we inadequately call carers.
David, in his wheelchair,
silent for the most part
except for the electronic voice
needs some medical adjustment.
An audience of nurses, carers and learners
scrum round him.
This must be a regular occurrence;
a flash mob of nice, professional and well-meaning
people frequently and necessarily,
invading his space. I wonder what percentage
of his waking hours he spends pissed off?
The session winds down and
the knot of concerned professionals unties.
I’m playing the guitar now,
making rhymes and silly songs from
their names and suggestions. Tactfully
we have left David until last.
A bugger to rhyme: David!
Dave is unacceptable
but his surname offers possibilities
so I sing and improvise as a smile starts to spread,
as wide as a BP oil slick across his face.
He beams, he shines, he glows
for once the star of the show
and I know we’ve connected.
How to get that across in my next