We present a quintet of poems from Jan Brierton's new collection, Everybody Is A Poem - Jan talks to Ray D'Arcy above.
Following the success of her lockdown tome What Day Is It? Who Gives a F*ck, Jan Brierton returns with a new collection that covers love, aging, and the menopause, all delivered in her own unique, mischievous, and engaging style.
Multitask
I clean my teeth
on the loo, to save time.
In the shower I wash
and scrub off the tiles' grime.
When I’m watching Netflix,
I do the grocery shop,
And I pay the gas bill,
Waiting at the bus stop.
In a meeting at work,
I send WhatsApps and texts
about soccer and drama
and parties up in the Plex.
On my way to the kitchen,
I pick up random socks,
Throw them in the machine,
Deposit toys in the toy box.
While preparing the lunch,
I’m defrosting the dinner,
And sounding out words,
With my school spelling bee winner.
The warm steam in my face,
As I take out the dishes,
Doubles up as a facial,
It moisturises and enriches.
I’ve a deep conversation,
With my friend on the phone.
While I’m ironing school shirts,
We laugh and we moan
about the stresses and strains,
And the day-to-day terror,
Of chores, multitasking
and our increased rate of error!
13 (for Willow)
My belly was your mattress,
I watched you twist and turn,
While you rummaged deep inside me,
A fire was lit (it was heart burn).
You stretched my skin and stole my sleep,
I felt your figure shift,
I was your wrapping paper,
You were my precious gift.
I carried you to work,
And wondered what would be your name,
My laughing was your lullaby,
My bones were your bedframe.
You left me thirteen years ago,
I’d tea and toast to celebrate,
Still today I carry you,
My heart is laden with love’s weight.
These days you need me less and less,
I slowly feel redundant,
Time will pass, you’ll bloom and grow,
And my love remains abundant
The Last Conversation We Never Had
How was your day?
You’re looking well.
Are you feeling OK?
Do you need to tell
someone about the pain you are in?
Tell me, tell me,
I’m your blister and skin.
You think I don’t hear you.
But I see all your hurt.
We all feel it, we live it.
Mam goes to church
and prays every Sunday
for your safe return
from your pain, and your aching.
That one day you’ll learn
to live and to love
unconditionally you.
To go easy, be gentle
after all you’ve been through.
Talk. I’ll listen.
No solutions I’ll give.
I don’t have the answers.
But I want you to live.
When the numbness and dark
covers you like a quilt.
It’s normal, your feelings,
of shame and of guilt.
There’s much more to you
than the tablets you take
or the drink that you drown in
or mistakes that you make.
I’d tell you to work on
yourself, as you are.
To accept all your flaws,
It’s not easy, it’s hard.
I know, ’cos I’m learning,
To live with all mine.
Someone says, 'How are you?’
You feel s**t but say, ‘Fine.’
I’d say: ‘Talk tomorrow.
Get some rest.
Take it easy.
I love you, my brother.’
You’d say, ‘Don’t be cheesy.’
Not much has changed,
Since I spoke with you last.
The kids do their sports,
Mam still goes to mass.
Dad got a new telly,
hasn’t mastered his phone.
And like when you were here,
They wish you would come home.
Secret-Keepers
Secret-keepers,
Joy-sharers,
Tear-catchers,
Heart-carers.
Whinge-listeners,
Hand-holders,
Truth-tellers,
Loyalty-soldiers.
Forever-lovers,
Joke-laughers,
Mischief-makers,
Life-staffers.
Temper-tamers,
Dream-believers.
Always-there,
The secret-keepers.
Semi-D
At first, I learned to accept,
Now I’ve learned to embrace
the lumpy bits,
the stretchy skin,
the spots upon my face.
My body,
It’s not quite a temple,
More like an old semi-d,
Loved, lived in, cracks inside and out,
Not perfect but just right for me.
Everybody Is A Poem: Midlife in Rhymes is published by New Island Books
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