Are You Genuine? – R.W.

Do you like who you are?
Every so often someone catches
A glimpse of the tattoos on the back of my legs
Sometimes they gasp, that’s so cool
More often they say, I don’t get it
Don’t get how people change
Depending who they’re with
The words say
Who are you,  when nobody’s watching?
What do you care about
What do you do
When no one else is there
To see you 

The Old House – R.W.

The house still stands
It still stands loud and proud
A treasure trove of someone else’s memories
Mixed with our own
The marks we made in the wall
Each summer as we grew
Still there lablled with our names
Hallways carpeted in a mustard carpet
The same one we left
Who knows what they’ve seen since
Some parts untouched
Feeling like they still might be ours
Others have changed
Evolved into something new
For someone new
All these things we knew
Belong to someone else now

Sea Salt – R.W.

I’m not the child with the salty skin
My hair no longer curls as it dries from the ocean
I see only the four shells sat on my bathroom windowsill
Not searching each day for a new treasure to add to the collection
Now I’m removed
From the beaches I grew up on
Sun soaked in summer
And wind whipped winters
I’m left with a longing
For a life I barely remember 

Hiking 4 – R.W.

Halfway up the steep incline
Craggy rocks protrude above
The journey beyond them unclear
A choice now
Climb nearly gorilla shaped
Hands and feet at appropriate levels
For both to support the accent
I can keep plugging forwards
A steeper route than I’d invisinged
Or I could turn back
Trust the studs in my shoes
Will hold me
As I try to bend my knees
Spread my weight
And hope I don’t slide
Down the slope I’ve been climbing
Find an alternate route
An easier way to the top 

Differences – R.W.

I dont get it
Or maybe I do
The words that I write
As I read them back
Touch my soul in all sorts of ways
Evoking emotions
I’d forgotten
Yet when I present them
For others to feel too
An offering to the ether
I get blank stares back
An ocean of separation
The great abys
Between what I write
And what I read 

Hiking 3 – R.W.

It sounds about typical
That we’ve done it upside-down
Back to front
Even when the route is planned for us
We climbed the steep rise intended for decent
Stroll down the gentle incline
We should have found to start
Ahh the benefit of hindsight

The Little Toe and The Door Frame – R.W.

I don’t know why I’m like it
Well I do
Its the dyspraxia
But its not usually this bad
Tripped by the spindle leg
Of the wash basket at the end of the bed
Thats been here in this house
As long as I have
Or the searing pain
Followed by pool of blood
As I try to take a step
With my foot straight through the door frame
Instead taking a chunk of the skin from my little toe
My toes have always suffered worse
As a child the tops of my big toes
Came off as regularly as the hats they resembled
For years until the pain was something I was used to
I just could never seem to lift my feet enough to stop them getting injured
As I think of the injuries to my body now
At nearly a quarter century on this earth
A burn on my arm
Where it took up the same space as an oven shelve
I thought I was well clear of
As I took my cookies from the oven
A plaster on each foot
For bleeding appendages
Where a very solid thing won a fight
Its the bruising of my thighs
As I walk into tables
And work tops
I’m not just clumsy
But accident prone

Hiking 2 – R.W.

Out on the mountainside
Exposed to the elements
As the wind whips the sweat from my skin
Leaving it chapped dry and salty
I remind myself
Despite the burning in my muscles
As they make moves they’re not used to
This is what I signed up for
A break from my normal routine
A little bit of hard work
For a reward unachievable
Through a different route
The endorphins from the exercise
Coupled with the views from the peak
Well worth the climb up
And the blisters on the descent

Numb – R.W.

Reaching, always reaching
For the one that isn’t here
Repition may result in familiarity
But it also makes us numb
Under sensitive to that which is in our face
In favour of the less regular
You are my every day
So we miss our big events
The important one offs
Slide by one day by one
Then an event is made
For the one we don’t see
A fuss and a party
Simply because they are here
A shock to the system
A blip in the line chart
Amplified until its all consuming