Poetry & community

A ping on my phone
“should I buy this?”
Something fuzzy, green, doesn’t look right
“yeah!!’
I let her do it, spend the money she doesn’t have, just
to laugh about it later. The item isn’t worth it, but our
joke is. Our laughter, the togetherness, the regret and
the reassurance, are worth the haggled price and the
£2.99 shipping.
“Should I buy this?”
I let her do it, even if she doesn’t need it, even if she’ll
hate it by morning. Because by morning she will have a
bag, or a shoe, or a shirt. And I will have a friend. And a
ping on my phone.

My mouth doesn’t move right.
It jibbers and it jabbers,
It clicks and it clacks.
Nothing is normally right,
Not even volume.
Words are confusing to me,
But not to those around me.
So when I don’t understand,
I ask those who do.

“What does this word mean?”
Glance.
“It means that you are very tired”
Great, thank you!

“How do you pronounce this?”
Listen.
“You say it like like ‘fa-tee-juh’”
Great, thank you!

“What are they actually trying to say here?”
Ponder.
“They like it, but it can be stressful.”
Great, thank you!

My mouth doesn’t move right.
It jiggers and it jabbers,
It clicks and it clacks.
Nothing is hardly correct,
Not even tone.
Words are hard to me,
But not to those around me.

Not that I have to worry,
As my friends are always there to help.

Great, thank you!

Sheep, extra blankets, something borrowed, something
returned, music, “do you want to”, the cold weather
once missed, saying cows when you drive past cows,
taking the train from A to B, hers to mine - fairy lights,
hot baths, the start to a film I know too well, new
clothes, a package delivered, something fully charged,
when it all works out because I know it will.

Strawberries, the juicy ripe ones not the disappointing
kind. My friends when we laugh at our rubbish jokes
until our stomachs ache. My family winding each other
up durning the day until we can’t stand it at night. My
dog Scooby doo when he wags his tail to greet me, it
spins like a helicopter blade so fast I fear he may take
off. Sausage rolls, but specifically from Greggs. Rocky
roads with loads of chocolate, the amount that makes
me feel sick.

My monkey teddy
when I close my eyes I can feel your fur, bristling
against my finger tips. I fall asleep to the sound of the
jungle, the swish and grab of the vines as you go past
me. If I were to open my eyes I’d see you, that long tail
ready to grab onto the closet tree. Those sharp teeth
to crunch down onto the fruit hanging from the tree. As
we fall asleep we both greet each other in a dream, our
dream. We’d toast with our unripe bananas to the
setting sun and see who could scoff theirs down the
quickest. My banana dream.

LMR

The screeching sound of paper against my ears, the
pen to paper that determines my life, my bin filled with
junk and chunks of paper. The YouTube channel that
echos in my ear, the late night revision im cramming in
my head may be worth it. But who knew it’s worth it...
when I opened the envelope that day to see the worthy
top grades

SP

the warm, yeasty smell of fresh bread
my dog's eager eyes waiting at the window
fast-forwarding through advert breaks
old leather bound books
breathless discussions at the interval
the zing of lemons
travelators
immersing yourself in a novel
and the scratch of a pen against paper.

clean bouncy hair at an important event, a long hug,
fresh cut fruit from mum on a warm summer morning,
first bite of Chinese takeaway, a cat purring and gliding
around your legs, a film with your sister with a bowl of
cheesy pasta in front of you. Ice cold lemonade by the
beach. The moment of peace right before falling
asleep on a rainy night, salty butter on fresh bread.

Late night rugby, muddy fields and sore legs. Whipping
down the pitch, wind in my hair. Post match meals,
laughing with friends, curls bouncing on the big
screen. Fans cheering, a try, a win. Post match photos
covered in mud, smiling ear to ear. Lost voices after
cheers. Hot sausages rolls on a Sunday morning in the
middle of winter. Hot chocolate on cold fingers.
Watching 15 white shining bright against the green.
Trips into the city, cowboy hats in tow. Red roses all
around. Me and you. 13 hour time difference when it
finally lines up. Chatting for hours. Missing people. I
love yous at the end of a long night. I love yous when
there’s no more fight.

I remember my best from primary school, we used to
do Dutch braids on eachother. There was nothing ever
peculiar about our relationship, a good true soul of a
friend. Our constant laughs swaying in the wind, our
skipping competitions of 'who could skip for the
longest?' I miss being a youth in primary school. I had
no care in the world. And there was no one better I
could've spent it with.

SP