“MY DISABLED WORLD” – AS WE ENTER THE LAST FEW DAYS OF OUR COMPETION HERE ARE SOME MORE OF YOUR POEMS

Consideration of a symbol: Our Code and its colours
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Dedicated to Sara Hendren and Tim Ferguson Sauder

Our Code
HTML #FFFFFF on HTML #155196
The trap of a need to display.
It is with it that those who are able, learn who we are.

Mondrian was not this minimalist.
It is with language that art is described.
To scribe poetry on the topic seems a massive misnomer

This is not art
White on blue cannot describe this lie for the sake of assistance.

Still I think,
it is the job of the community
to warm the cement of pure picture
like a mother cradling her child’s ice pink fingers.

it is with human representation that an image
lingers but changes
much the same as custard, liquid to the brim edge
of a bowl ready to

drip;
until pressure is applied, and then back again,
in ours eyes
What is shaped to confine us is a thing we can redefine
once read,
green
orange
yellow
purple
black
perhaps a crudely drawn fish
a chair
a star…
more than ever.

Poem submitted by Louie Didcote whose favourite charity is MIND

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 The differencies I face every day

A young called Jay, who was born with cerebral palsy told by a friend he would never
achieve and this what his mindset tell a few months ago. He changes his mindset that I am
able to achieve anything if he just takes the time to learn your craft you can anything in life. There were many days and nights I cried myself to sleep because I had not found purpose in life yet. That was before one found poetry writing a voice because I struggle to articulate my words when I hold face to face contraventions. I feel poetry writing has given the confidence to try anything as I do not put any barriers up in my own mind stopping me achieving my dreams.

I feel the baclofen pump has stopped my body being tight and having fight body just ready
in the mornings. I use to have to do that when I was on the baclofen tablets use upset my
stomach and meant I was not able to do the things I loved to do. I am unable to get myself
out of bed. I have to wait for dad and mum come and hoist me and help me with personal
care every morning. I struggle to write a pencil or pen but I can use a computer word
process things I need to write. As I fight to prove my doubter wrong and show I can achieve anything my life.

Poem submitted by Jay Joshi whose favourite charity is SCOPE

Fight or Flight

I’m getting ready for jumping-
Just hope I don’t wobble or fall.
Want to join this campaign,
So I’ll move with the pain,
But I’ll lean for support on this wall.

The trick is controlling the muscles
For one leg just wants to go South,
While the other goes West
But I’m doing my best.
At least I’m not down in the mouth,

For I’ve recently been to have Botox
Though it’s not for the lines on my cheek.

This relaxant is great,
I can see what I eat
And now I don’t croak when I speak.

When I tell friends I sometimes feel muzzy,
And I can’t always get out of bed,
They smile and they sigh,
But do they understand why
There’s days when I can’t turn my head?

My handwriting-trails ‘cross the paper
Like a spider that isn't tee-total,
If my wrist jerks
Don’t think I'm berserk,
The experience is not anecdotal.

On the flip side, my skin won’t be wrinkled,
And in gloom I will not descend,
Been to loads of events,
Raised money and spent
Some time with a new set of friends.

So I’m getting ready for jumping,
I’m determined to keep straight and tall,

It’s all for dystonia,
That’s not next to Estonia!
It’s my muscles just not playing ball!