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I don't pretend to be a Keats
or a Shelley or a Shakespeare—rhymes
just pop into my head sometimes, and
I scribble them down on whatever
piece of paper comes to hand. 
It's fun and it's just for me, but now and
then, people ask to read what
I have written. 


There was fear from the beginning
Fear of not being loved,
Not being liked.
Fear of having to speak in public,
Before a class, or in a shop,
Having to ask for groceries,
Before there were any supermarkets.
Trying to find words that were easier to say
Without stammering.
Fear of being taken for a fool,
Being scorned, derided.
Reading a verse out loud in Sunday School,
Dreading your turn, frightened, sweaty palms.
The Minister's wife
Aware of your plight, very casually says
Stammering was attractive,
Carry on reading, regardless,
And if there is hesitation, did it really matter?
You think that she is mad, but kind.
Then you meet someone who returns your love
With such a person, speech is flawless.
You are loved, secure,safe and fearless.
Until the day when you wake up and find your are alone.

Fear returns, clutching your stomach.
Stark, cold fear, paralysing your brain, your reason.
Fear of the unknown, fear of any unexplained noise.
Fear of the present, future, fear of just being.
After a while, you think, it could be exhilarating
To go where one has not been before.
Testing the water, jumping in.
And you find that you can do this new venture.
You are full of hope, less fearful.
Tomorrow can be a better day.

Other Poems

Taxpayer's Lament
Busy Bee
Painted Lady

© 2014 Mary Davies



   All words and pictures on these pages © 2014 Mary Davies, Tewkesbury, UK  





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