WIP 2021

New project 2021 – Chapter 2 part 2

The road was dark he could not see that much. Only moonlight lighting his path in front. His feet were wet, socks soggy.

“Calm down Frank, stop the car and let’s talk” Rose pleaded. Frank sighed and pulled the car off the road. Waiting for the bombardment that was sure to come from his wife.

“We can’t continue like this, you tried to punch your son. You drink and you drive, You can’t even be proud of your son for what he has achieved” “He didn’t achieve anything,  he didn’t win” “What does it matter if he won or not, we are his parents,  we should support him and be proud of him for whatever he achieves or not”

“He said he wants to leave, I can’t have my baby leave me, not like that” “If you didn’t molly cuddle him all the time” “Well if you was a better father to him” she snapped. Frank started the car, fed up of the conversation.

“Do what you always do Frank, block me out, you know I’m right” He span the tyres again and the Mercedes sped off. “Slow down Frank” she shouted! He took a right, then continued a few miles before taking a left.

“You know if Paul does leave the house that I won’t stay,  I will go to if you don’t make things up with him” her voice so stern. Frank said nothing. He just stared at the road. Rain pouring down on the windscreen.

Frank was quietly crying to himself, Rose’s words had wounded him as if she had plunged a knife through his heart. He couldn’t imagine being without her. She cancelled out everything that was imperfect about him.

“You make this right, you make this right” she uttered.

“FRANK, LOOKOUT” Frank saw at the last moment and spun the wheel to swerve, narrowly missing the figure in the road. He tried to control the car by going the other way but the car was already off the road.

The car was rolling down the hill, Frank was breaking but it was too wet. In a couple of seconds the car hit a massive tree head on, the air bags exploding outwards but the damage was already done.

The windscreen had shattered, glass everywhere. The only noise coming from the car was horn.

Copyright © Philip Lister 2021

WIP 2021

New project 2021 – Chapter 2 part 1

Frank angry from the night’s events got into the black Mercedes. Rose opening the passenger door and closing behind her.

“Well that went well didn’t it” she said. “Don’t lecture me” Frank snapped. Angrily starting the car. The car screeched away leaving tyre tracks.

Paul had been walking for a while now uttering to himself with discontent for his dad. He was soaked through from the constant rain.

“Probably gonna catch a cold now because of that idiot, Why did he have to act like that? Showing me up in front of everyone!”

“I’m gonna get home, I’m gonna get my stuff and I’m gonna leave” he shouted to the sky.

Copyright © Philip Lister 2021

WIP 2021

New project 2021 – Chapter 1

“Thank you all, Thank you for believing in me, for seeing the real me!” Paul recited his acceptance speech in the mirror of the public toilets. Soap had leaked all over the sink from the dispenser. An odour lingering from the toilet stalls. “I hope I get it, I need this” he thought to himself

The young poet association awards was an event put on by the English literature Council. It was a body recognising promising upcoming talents. He had been trying his hardest for years to be acknowledged by them, by somebody. It was through his dad pulling some strings in his literature world that he managed to get this far. But here he was, finally, he would be seen by press, by other poets, by readers, he would finally have a way to be seen, connection to a world that has always evaded him.

Just at that moment there was a flush of the toilet behind, then the toilet door was pushed open almost off its hinges. A young guy very smartly dressed came out, young, tall, wavy blonde hair, perfect cheek bones, hell he could have been a model.

He came to wash his hands next to Paul. “I heard you” he said in a sure voice. “Speaking to yourself” “So what?” replied Paul. “There’s always next year” he said smiling to himself, shaking his hands over the sink.

What does he mean there is always next year? Over confident prick! Maybe he thinks that he is going to win? Maybe he knows who is going to win? I mustn’t let it bother me, sure I’ll do great, I am sure my piece will be worth the prize.

Just then the door opened, “Come on son” his dad uttered, he looked excited. Paul had never seen him like that, it’s been years since he had saw him smile. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, back into the large hall with the hundreds of people rushing to get back to their seats. The ceremony was about to start.

He rushed to his seat, his mum was already sat down ensuring no-one would unintentionally take their places. She looked so perfect as always. In a beautiful red dress, not a red hair out of place on her head. “Sit down dear” she whispered. His dad was already taking his place. Whiskey with ice in his hand. How inappropriate, he couldn’t wait till after. Why did they have to serve alcohol? Paul thought almost cursing to himself. He guessed they had to make money back somehow on the venue. Can’t be cheap hiring this place out.

The rest of the people took their seats, there must have been a good 200 people there, everybody was so well dressed, this was so important to all of them. Opposite the stage dead centre there were even a few journalists. The press was there. The press! Paul had always thought they would be wearing hats with a little paper tickets in them but they were just normal people with pricy cameras. Shirts and ties, that’s it.

He was still young, 18, there was so much to see, so much that he had not yet witnessed, so much to write about, to discover. Little old Paul, he started to feel overwhelmed, weak and nauseous.

Music started to play and the lights over the crowd were dimmed, it was almost deafening as the spot lights followed the two people on stage. There was a young girl in an amazing purple dress following a guy in a smartly cut suit. They arrived at the microphone and started talking about the association, their sponsors and all the boring stuff that made everyone tune out.

Then they started with the awards, recognizing schools, books, lifetime achievements and then finally onto the award that mattered most to Paul. The most promising upcoming talent award.

The girl started reading, “And now, we would like to read the award for the most promising upcoming talent” The man took over “This person has been in our sites for a while, forever popular, moving and never scared to write about sensitive subjects in the world”

Paul looked around to see the blonde guy fixing his eyes on the presenters licking his lips in anticipation with his hands clasped together. Then the announcement came. The man announced in a loud voice “Lance” and the crowd erupted with a roar and clapping. Lance was being hugged by the surrounding people, probably his mother in a red silk gown was holding him so tight he could of exploded like a tightened melon. His father, towering  over the two of them was hugging them both, proud tears in his eyes.

Paul looked at his father who was slumped in his chair, dejected with a sour scolding look of dissapointment on his face. He wouldn’t even merit Paul with a regard or a word of consolement. Paul’s mother held his hand and said “Don’t worry dear, poetry is subjective, there is always next year”

With that Lance started walking towards the stairs and up onto the stage. Smiling to himself and shaking the hands of the two announcers and then holding the trophy above his head although he had just won the world cup. He thanked his parents and was reeling off a list and at the same time Paul was zoning out in his own little black hole feeling sorry for himself.

His dad got up from his chair, downed the rest of his drink before leaving the empty glass in his chair. “Come on, we’re leaving” he ordered. “But it’s not finished” Paul protested but Frank was already leaving. “Dad, it’s not finished” Paul shouted in front of everybody.

The room fell violently silent as Paul and Frank became the evening’s spectacle. The crowd were waiting eagerly for a reaction. Even the press had their cameras focused on the father and son.

“What a dissapointment, a waste of time!” Frank shouted. Paul couldn’t believe that his dad would ruin this for him. In front of everyone. People in his world. “Dad, shut up!” He pleaded. “Can’t even win a two bit poetry competition, not even a runner up, a nothing, why am I paying for your studies if you can’t even show anything for it?”

“That’s enough!” Rose shouted, pushing her husband towards the exit. “What am I to you Dad? A dissapointment,  a failure. I write what I believe in. I can be proud of every word I write. I will never be a sell out”.
“Well you will never make any money!” Frank snapped. “I don’t want any money if it will make me turn out like you”

At that moment Frank lunged at Paul. Paul moved to his side and Frank with his momentum and the alcohol followed through and fell to the floor. “You can’t even go to an event with your son without making a fool of yourself” Frank turned onto his side looking up at his son. Rose helping him up. “I’m moving out Dad, you can’t control me and I don’t need you”

“Paul, no” begged his mother. “No mum, I can’t” Paul marched towards the exit and pushed the door open. He did not look back.

The doors closed behind him, the night had set in. It was raining steadily. Where was he going to go? He did not know, he did not care.

Copyright © Philip Lister 2021

Let me know what you think, rough draft. What can I do more? Where should I go? What do you see already? Do you like? All comments welcome.

Childhood · depression · New work

That’s a big mistake

That boy at school

Life already so hard

He teases me

Every day a new start

.

I never asked for this

To have him in my class

He always bullies me

Such an ass

.

He laughs with his friends

Just because he can

I don’t have any

No one understands

.

I work by myself

Always apart

I wear it on my sleeve

My fragile heart

.

Why do they have to be mean?

What did I ever do?

Am I so different from them?

Why do they exclude?

.

Days and days

This torment goes on

Nothing changes

The same repeating song

.

I can’t tell anyone

My mum doesn’t even care

I’m getting sick of it

I’m really scared

.

Being threatened now

Thumped in the chest

Shirt ripped down the side

I just want to rest

.

I am so fed up now

So I will bring an arm

I will wait for him

This time I will inflict harm

.

The last day of school

Before summer break

He decides to attack me

That’s a big mistake

Childhood · depression · New work

Be strong

Remembering when

We used to be small

When we used to laugh

A joy to be born

.

When parents could be nice

We weren’t beaten and bruised

Just relying on innocence

Not knowing the word abused

.

But a few of us unlucky

To be where we were

Silence and quivering

Not daring to stir

.

Not to get up early

Or to make a noise

Mustn’t disturb them

Cannot have a voice

.

The beatings taken

Black and blue

Bones cracked

Shattered through

.

Shy children

Not daring to talk

Too scared at school

It showed in the walk

.

Where would we go?

If we could ever run

What would happen to us?

If we returned home

.

We can always talk

Escape can be made

Talk to someone, anyone

You can get away

.

You can always talk to someone. The scariest part is leaving. There are always people that can help.

Be strong

https://www.amazon.com/author/philip-lister

1. Rhyming poetry to change your day

Fight to survive

The stench of them, escapees, days it has been

In the boat, it’s horrific scenes

Piss, sweat, blood and tears

Silence wearily breeding fear

Little water, no food left

Weak pushed overboard, laid to rest

They’ve paid their money to board the boat

It’s a wonder it has stayed afloat

Coming up to land, they see it there

They start to overcome their despair

“Out of the boat” someone cries

Pushed into the water by the other guys

Winded, swallowing water now

You are submerged, pushed down, and how

You try to fight with others around you

All of you battling to breathe too

You hear shouting, just muffled sounds

You feel other people’s bodies all around

You come to the surface and catch your breath

It seems like you have passed the test

You look around in the water near you

Drowned bodies in a sea of death stew

This is the freedom you have seeked

Only for the strong, not the weak

You swim for the shore, as hard as you can

What will you do? What will be your plan?

It’s still so far, so far away

Will you reach it? Get there today?

You push and push, more and more

You start to touch the sea floor

Exhausted, emotional, you reach the land

You feel the ground, the wet sand

You start to cry, you’re an emotional mess

To survive all that, you must have been blessed

Poem taking directly from my book “Rhyming poetry to change your day” I hope yours is good, come what may.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/1549679120/ref=cm_cr_arp_mb_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8

1. Rhyming poetry to change your day · Uncategorized

It’s so sad

It’s so sad, another attack

It’s so sad, another flashback

It’s so sad, lives are lost again

It’s so sad, family and friends

It’s so sad, innocence stolen

It’s so sad, anger swollen

It’s so sad, hatred felt

It’s so sad, violence dealt

It’s so sad, why does it have to be like this?

Innocent people surely missed

Poem taking directly from my book “Rhyming poetry to change your day” I hope yours is good, come what may.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/1549679120/ref=cm_cr_arp_mb_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8

1. Rhyming poetry to change your day · Uncategorized

Reconciliation

Live your life, live it full

One chance only to play the ball

It’s too short to hold a grudge

Getting you down, had enough?

Be the bigger person, don’t be small

Take courage my friend and stand tall

Family feuds we know they go on

It eats you up, you need to move on

Reconcile with them, pick up the phone

Do you want to die feeling alone?

If you could change one thing what would it be?

If it was me, build my bridges, set myself free

Your mother, your father you only get one

Stop blocking yourself on why it came undone

Surely sometimes you may have to swallow pride

It’s too late if something happens and that person dies

If you say it, what you want to say today

Get it off your chest, put it into play

Then you’ve accomplished something, an enormous step

You can be proud of yourself, now you can make the next

Poem taking directly from my book “Rhyming poetry to change your day” I hope yours is good, come what may.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/1549679120/ref=cm_cr_arp_mb_bdcrb_top?ie=UTF8

fantasy

Stuck in this haunted house

Stuck in this haunted house

With my darling you

Are we getting out of here?

What are we to do?

.

Will I be able to protect you?

From the ghouls and ghosts

From that scary axe

Swishing to and fro

.

All the windows boarded

Impossible to escape

Now all I hear is hissing

Oh fuck it’s a snake

.

As we run up the stairs

Taking your hand in mine

Through the black darkness

And the scary whines

.

Quick, through this door

As it slams behind

Then the lights allume

The clock begins to chime

.

Look a way out

My love says to me

I doubt to myself

It would be this easy

.

We climb out the window

On to the stone ledge

We look at the ground below

And we jump for the hedge

.

We land and scream breaking our bones

Finally free from the house

As we check our injuries

He is there, quiet as a mouse

.

So you escaped I see

Uttering to us

Will you get away from me?

Or will I turn you to puss?

.

I try to move from my bed

Impossible to go

My darling i’ll forever love you

The man then dealt his blows

.

Searching for you is a collection of poetry about love, heartbreak and happiness. A raw journey looking at our search in life to find ourselves and that special someone.