TIME TO CHECK IN
The shop windows are
all orange and Halloween
The toothless plastic
pumpkin
grins with a wicked flame
The days get grey
as wrung out ropes
Fire-yellow leaves
become a rotten mulch
Cold coffin toppings and
decay in the gutters
The stars expire and
here comes the dark
It’s the beginning
Of suicide season
My friends feel it
we leave messages
to make sure we’re all
ok
“Can we meet for a quiet
pint,
just us, and just the one, to catch up
and check in…”
I imagine a death watch
beetle
tapping out its vigil to
attract mates
Hey you Squirrel Nutkin
did you save enough nuts
and seeds?
Will you make it through
the long dark?
Last years moth-balled
winter coat looks hopeless,
but it's a good job it still
fits over everything you're hiding.
Because here comes winter
Pensioners freeze in their
beds
homeless people die in
shop doorways
refugees drown in frozen
seas
the poor will eat their
young
The noisy get busy
packaging premature seasons
greetings
stocking up on mince pies
and port
soaking fruit for the
figgy pudding
Poor poets drown their
sorrows
artists nail down the
canvas sails and
musicians hide from
baliffs
we all burn your rejection
letters for light
The mice come and get thin
and hungry
And spiders, here come the
spiders
The Colony closed down
the pubs close down
the libraries close down
the circus left town
And they tell us poetry don’t sell
art is the first thing
on the fire.
Here comes the cold, so beware,
wary you don’t get
trapped
beneath ice,
again.
Just hold your breath
and get to Christmas
Just hold your breath
and make it to Easter
No…hang on!
You just have to
make it through January
and fucking death is
January.
Then to February
fucking murder
is bloody Valentines
But I heart you!
I really do
And I don’t want to lose
you
like I lost the path
And I don’t want to lose
you
in the dark.
We don't mean to get lost
-
but we don’t always get
what we want
or say what we mean.
Goodbye summer
You come down so hard
you go through the ceiling
it's all cobwebs and fog and soup
You've been having trouble
breathing
grabbing space to breathe
It's like kicking and
punching
under chunks of frozen
time
A tired bee is trapped and
banging it's face against time's window
But I hope you can hear me
writing this
I had no credit to
hear your message
and you had no money to
return my call
Oh my love
I remember this crash
It's that old orange moth eaten jumper
You push your thumbs through the sleeve
It is that time of letting
go
We must make sure we hold on to each other
We must make sure
We meet for
just for the one to
catch up
and check in…
Just the one to
catch up
and check in…
Just the one to
catch up
and check in…
Just the one.
©
2008. Salena Godden / Edited 2018
Found, unpublished poem, archive piece.
I think I feel a bit like this every September ...
This was written 10 years ago,
This was written 10 years ago,
Please check in with your loved ones,
Please buy books to support indie artists and indie publishing,
Sending love and books to you all! Make soup! xxsg
UPDATE:
April 3rd 2019
April 3rd 2019
I donated this poem ‘Time To Check In’ to charity and it is now published in #eightyfour by Verve Poetry Press - Eighty Four is a courageous new poetry anthology with works on themes of vulnerability, grief and hope, all proceeds go to @calmzone, launched April 2019 at Foyles, Charing Cross Road: bit.ly/2J7hOt2 - I urge you to read and share this beautiful book.
Two new anthologies:
Woman
Edited by Rita Osei and Michelle Olley, 50 pieces by a selection of 16 female creators from across the globe. Anthology includes published works, repertoire pieces and new verses written especially for this book. Launch party at Vout O'Reenees on September 12th! tickets: https://www.eventbrite.com
The Dizziness of Freedom
A collection of writing on themes of mental health awareness is coming out on Bad Betty Press and launched on September 20th at Rich Mix in London and then followed by various events up and down the UK. Contemporary poets speak out about mental health in this groundbreaking anthology. Edited by Amy Acre and Jake Wild Hall. Foreword by Melissa Lee-Houghton: tickets: https://badbettypress.com
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OCTOBER
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| LIVEwire poet - Iona Lee |
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