Hi to you all out there.  How has your week been, actually it’s still going for most of us, isn’t it?  Except for you lucky buggers out there that have worked hard, played fair, filled your pots and finally retired from the rot race – I take my hat off to you, but please let me know how you managed to do it.

I constantly lose all track of time at times, I have to, I couldn’t do my job properly if I didn’t – sounds a bit ridiculous I know, but true non the less.  Thinking about time and the way in which we as human beings try to quantify the usage and the passing of it exists on all levels, when I don’t think about it time seems to slow down which then makes me feel that I have more time to better quantify how it passes and how it gets used inside my space.  I suppose that sounds pretty logical to most of you out there, but to some, maybe not.  If you are thinker of time, but only to eat a meal, take a rest or give some tender loving care to your mobile phone then it comes and goes pretty much unnoticed.  I think that for most of us going from light to night signifies the passing of something which must be time because that is the most common word we use for it when things change.  For a lot of scientists “Time” represents a continuum that lacks spatial dimensions – imagine if someone created a new word or an new expression for asking and telling the time – what would that word or expression be?   It could be something like “Excuse me could you tell me how far the greyhound is behind the hare? – I will leave you to ponder that one. Well, back to a bit of good old poetry writing.  An email that I received from someone today prompted me to tap this one out.  The poem is supposed to be about how I personally deal with getting rid of unwanted stress and frustration – I hope you can get/learn or even take something from it. I would like to leave you with the following:-

A teacher once said to a student who was busy biting his pen to bits in the classroom; “Chewing on the end of your biro boy is an indication that you are either thinking about or worrying about something deeply, you have a nervous disposition or you are feeling peckish and in need of some food for your wayward thoughts.  Whichever it may be, eating a pen most certainly will do something for the brain if chewed on correctly, but it will not fill your stomach unless eaten in copius numbers, rather it will upset your stomach and may render you unfit to attend school which perhaps all along was your ulterior motive.”

Getting rid of shout

Some people work out to get rid of shout.
Some people cook, some people jog.
Others just keep it bottled up inside their nog.
What do I do when I get worked up?
Well, I just sit down and write a poem.
I know I can’t directly hurt anyone that way.
And it allows me to breathe and get on with my day.

Poetry is your own way to say, it’s like a private code.
You can get your frustration out and your meanings across.
Secretly, whilst others peruse and perhaps become amused.
They may reflect on the way they have abused.
But only by cracking the code inside the words you have used.

Something they know everything and nothing about.
Why shout when a normal voice is all that is needed.
To put things back into perspective, long since reseeded.
With pencil in hand and paper on table.
Writing poetry’s what keeps me stable.

A poem by Stephen Austwick