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.

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

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.

Life

I used to have a shirt

I used to have a shirt

When I was 23

I looked good in it

Cut magnificently

.

I loved the colour of it

Blue matching my eyes

I remember looking in the mirror

Doing up my tie

.

It stayed in the wardrobe

For a good 9 years

I ate a lot of junk food

And drank quite a few beers

.

I went to put it on

To turn the years back

Unfortunately for me now

I’ve become a little fat

.

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.

funny · Life

That hotel will never be forgot

I remember that hotel

Never seen as bad as that

Shocked when I opened the door

Gave me a heart attack

.

The bed was disgusting

Made me want to heave

Dirty with stains on it

I just wanted to leave

.

The air con was a death trap

Cables black and bare

Surely if I touched them

I would shock all my hair

.

The bathroom don’t get me started

The shower covered in mould

The filthy escape vent

200 years old

.

I don’t know how I slept

That night I was so stressed

My shadow danced with the shadows

My soul so scared it left

.

The morning I went for breakfast

Biscotte was all I got

Included in the price

That hotel will never be forgot

.

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.

family · fantasy · happy · Life · love

My daughter’s dream

My little girl

4 years is she

Wants to be an astronaught

Would make her happy

.

I thought to say no

But what do I know?

One day it’s possible

How can we know?

.

Maybe for now

It is just a dream

I will not take it away

Pull at its seams

.

Such beautiful innocence

I wait for the next

My daughter’s dreams

They are the best

.

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.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B08ZFHTJM6/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1617778215&sr=8-1#aw-udpv3-customer-reviews_feature_div

family · fantasy · Life

Bloody cat

That bloody cat

Annoys me so much

Can’t catch it

Or even touch

.

It darts about

Toppling all

Even that

Little stool

.

Why so scatty?

You might ask?

I don’t know

I can’t ask

.

Meow meow meow

He doesn’t reply

Just looks at me

Thinks I’m high

.

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.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B08ZFHTJM6/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1617778215&sr=8-1#aw-udpv3-customer-reviews_feature_div

fantasy · Life

Pitter patter

Pitter patter rain drops

Cold on my skin

Seeping through

To the heart within

.

So fresh, icy shock

Waking me up

I want more

Can never have enough

.

Why am I here?

I don’t understand

What force

Could I not withstand?

.

No longer scared

Of this life before

Now to work

I will settle the score

.

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.

Flowers · Life · love

Bloom for me

I love watching you

Anticipating the sunshine

As it creeps up its head

The horizon an orange blur

I feel the warmth on my face

My morning dose of pleasure

The shade shadows vacate

And the light powers through

And I wait

Waiting to see your beauty

All your colours

Your vibrancy

As if magic to my eyes

And ecstacy to my soul

For I needed to see you

Today

Feed on the suns rays

Bloom in all magnificence

Call the bees

With your melodic inticing nectar

I am as the bees

Subdued by your odour

Hypnotised by your posture

I allow myself to smell you

To inspire you

My drug

My love