Poem: Somewhere In Between.

Neither tall,

nor small

but somewhere in between…

my feet now touch the ground

though my thoughts are

somewhere in the clouds.

 

I look out my bedroom window

at the road which lies ahead

wondering how to get from A to B.

Do I really have to walk?

Why can’t I take a jumbo jet?

 

I don’t have all the answers.

Indeed, I don’t even know

which questions I should ask.

Yet, everywhere I seem to look,

all I find is rules.

Rules on rules on rules!

 

Be here!

Go there!

This is how to do your hair!

Living by this ringing bell,

has to be a form of hell!

 

Neither tall,

Nor small

but somewhere in between…

why can’t I just enjoy the view

before I grow too big?

23rd February, 2016.

 

My son was given an assignment this week to write a poem “Looking Through My Window”. He is about to turn 12 and has just started High School. I wanted him to see the topic from a different angle and that looking through his window could refer to what he sees as well as how he views the world…his perspective.

As it was, his poem came from another perspective entirely and he wrote from an imaginary point of view about a mysterious rabbit which he spotted out his window, which no one else could see. This rabbit took on surreal qualities and started glowing, combusting and then in the morning there was no trace of the rabbit at all. It struck me as being a bit Steven King but well done. I gave him a bit of help with punctuation but it was his own piece.

I am trying to work out a good balance on the homework front. Every kid and his dog is being tutored these days and I figured my husband and I are qualified enough to handle this. Geoff is one of those lucky few who are good at maths and English. My maths ability was never strong but after putting so much effort into my creative side, it fell into some kind of swamp years ago.

So, who does our daughter come to for maths help tonight? Ha! Yes, yours truly. Well, they’ve even changed the way you do subtraction since I was at school and so Geoff ended up giving the pair of us a Maths lesson.

I would have thought that being a poet would’ve automatically disqualified me from all of that!!

By the way, it was sweltering here today and I caught the dog lying in front of a small fan we had running to redirect the air-con into the bedrooms….just like many of you in the North must have pets in front of the fire/heater this time of year. I was very tempted to grab that sun today and stick it in an envelope and post it to you all…no returns. Yes, I know I’d regret it in the morning and the temperature is supposed to be much more comfortable tomorrow. It’s really been a scorcher today!

Anyway, all too soon, I’ll be complaining about the cold!!

xx Rowena

17 thoughts on “Poem: Somewhere In Between.

  1. merrildsmith

    I like that you used your son’s assignment for your own writing prompt. 😉
    My husband did the math tutoring around here, since he was a math teacher. Our daughters did not get the math gene. Of course, he’s also tutored other relatives, including son-in-law.
    I would look over our daughters’ writing when they were in elementary school, but by high school, I only looked at their writing when they asked me to for something special, like college applications.

  2. roweeee Post author

    I’ve since posted his poem. I asked him if I could post it and he was very keen so he’d become “famous”.
    I am trying to stick with giving him strategies for his studies, rather than doing it for him or leaving him to fail. It’s been a huge step up moving from Primary to High School. He hasn’t had a lot of homework before.

  3. Pingback: Coffee To Go! | beyondtheflow

  4. roweeee Post author

    Thank you very much.
    It’s not often that I actually go past the front gate of the high school but I was there a few weeks ago and I was really struck by how the girls were preening their hair and remembered these two girls I went to school with who spent recess and lunch in the bathroom doing their hair.
    Then there’s my brother. We’re going back to the 80s but he was really into The Cure and looked like a dead spit for Nick Cave. We both went to conservative private schools where there were very strict uniform and dress codes. At my school for example, you had to wear your hair up when it touched your collar.
    Well, as I said, my brother looked like Nick Cave and had this massive fringe at least down to his nose, maybe even his chin. This was like a lion with his mane and he was one of the very cool kids etc. Well, the school prefects cut it right off. I felt so sorry for him but now (bad sister) it does seem kind of funny. It’s also interesting when you think of the fringe as a power test. Humph. Just remembered that this was also the era of Billy Idol and “Rebel Yell!”.

  5. Minuscule Moments

    Love the poem and how different your son’s perspective was too. Yes this weather is no good for the creative brain, hopefully Autumn will visit us soon Rowena I prefer the cooler weather these days.

  6. roweeee Post author

    Thanks very much, Kath. I totally agree with you about the heat sabotaging creativity. Or, is it productivity?!! A cool change is due on Tuesday. Can’t wait!!
    This morning the beach was completely fogged out and I went down with my camera. Might not get the pics up until tomorrow but pulled off some great images. A few are quite apocalyptic with shadowy silhouettes walking through the mist back lit by the sun. The State surf lifesaving titles are on there and you could barely seen anything. I’ve only seen it like that once before. Had better keep moving. Kids packing for saiing regatta camp at Balmoral with Scouts xx Rowena.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s