Daylight On Babies Of The Mind

Firstly, I apologise for not posting more often to this blog in recent months despite saying I am aiming to sort out my discipline in writing. Needless to say I have failed in that task, and must redouble my efforts.

This poem that I have typed out below is based around ideas (some not as radical as indicated in the poem) and words that are taken in ways unthought of by those uttering them.

As I take a little liberty with the syllables in my play on words I must ask your forgiveness for this and for your intelligence to read it correctly.

They won’t bear the daylight well,
Babies you’ve grown in your mind.
Take them to the market to sell,
Fear all the clients you find.
Marx my words, ideas aren’t Nietzsche
When opened to the public’s poll.

Now for some news. My second poetry collection Fables, Depths, and Heights is slowly moving forward. I have nearly completed the first section, but there is a rather lengthy poem I will be working into right until the day before publishing I imagine. So I must ask, would anyone be able to help me by being a beta-reader for this work?

Thick Salt Soup

When that sweat starts it can be difficult to stop and remain calm. It add so much to the worry, it feels like it justifies your anxiousness – this added stress of physical appearance you could really do without. Then there comes a hated of yourself, blaming yourself for how panicked you are becoming, when it really isn’t your fault, but this isn’t a logical state. That is what I’ve tried to display in this poem.

I can feel it slickening
Can’t you see it on my skin?
Is it a thick salt soup now?
How can I go? It’s impossible. No.
And the onset of the panic,
A drip of sweat and I feel sick,
Here it comes again – and I sigh.
Why must I shake?! Just stop for goodness sake.

Tactical Retreat

Last Friday I went for my driving test. I’ve been working toward it for a while and felt I was in a position where I might make an attempt at passing it. When I started taking lessons back in 2015 I was quite a ball of nerves; shaking as it got closer to 09:00 and hoping that he would forget about my lesson. It took me a year to be able to deal with most of the anxiousness that arose each Friday morning – still it came, but thankfully lessened. I began to feel more confident in my manoeuvres and in how to control the car, so I booked my test and began working towards the date.

The weeks went by without incident (in terms of our subect of nerves at least), and the day of my driving test came. I spent an hour with my driving instructor having a normal lesson in an aim to ease out any nerves and head into it with some final revision. The drive was fine with no shakes at all, but when we came to sitting in the driving centre I felt my head begin to tense. My legs went weak. I kept my hands moving to stop them shaking. Feeling light headed, and like I would trip over something, I led the examiner to the car.

I wish I could say I fought it off. Yeh, I turned it around and passed with flying colours, it was great! But no. It had only just begun. As I sat down with the nicest examiner anyone could hope for in this situation, I didn’t feel entirely there – everything was a little distant. His voice, my replies, my actions. We started off. I was worried.

And not 5 minutes later, it happened. The moment that effectively ended the test. It would take a long, detailed explanation to give you a full picture of what I did and why it affected me so greatly, so I’ll give you a brief view. I blocked 3 streams of traffic and hit a curb. That’s a serious fault. And credit to him, the examiner was brilliantly calm. He waited patiently with me till the traffic had flowed by and I had sorted the car out. We continued on to another road, attempted my manoeuvre (which was parralel parking), and I decided to terminate my test. It had got to the point where I was not confident in my ability to keep others safe whilst driving. I couldn’t rely on my reflexes if someone stepped in front of me, or that I would even remember to check my mirrors while I was in a panick. So, below is a short poem condensing some of this. Let me know what you think of it. Also, I’m looking to fight this panicking issue, how do you deal with your nerves in these kind of situations?

The mind is failing, the body’s shaking;
Not the greatest display of clean prowess.
The ships sent sailing, Levi’than waking;
Some brave man would have called it cowardice.
I sound the alarm, and none come to harm;
Though your money is lost, sire, I confess.

Common Occurence

People have difficulty facing up to their faults and, sometimes, the problems they are facing. This has occurred throughout history, all persons have pushed something away or not given it due thought. We are no exceptions. Perhaps someone asked you a personal question the other day and it hit a sore spot, but instead of explaining how you were or what you felt you said something like “I can’t explain it.” The hardest part about this situation is that sometimes we really can’t explain it just yet; our data is inconclusive like that of an investigation. Yet we shouldn’t stop at that, we should keep looking and thinking to find the centre of our issue. Then even if it is not explained to that person who has hit the nail on the head, at least we know and can now open up to the people who matter most and help us.

I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to!
Emphatically said, the truth is hard set;
Unfortunately its centre’s a lie.
He could, and he should, but he won’t, not yet.

I’m making an active effort at the moment to think things through far more thoroughly than I ever have, to actually use this mind that God has given me. It’s difficult.

What do you think our approach should be to deeper issues? Should we dig them up? Or perhaps not?
Let me know in the comments. I’d love to read about what you think.

I’m going to also put this post up on a tandem blog I’ve started. At the moment I have four posts there: two poems, one hymn, one essay. It will be similar to this one, but with its unique posts. Here’s the link if you’re interested:

Awake In The Early Morning

Last night (very early this morning)I lay awake for a few minutes longer than my wife, and relaxed in the cool air; with her lying next to me looking so peaceful. I just soaked it all in and realised how fortunate we are to have each other at such a young age. I quietly got out of bed, found my notebook, and wrote this poem:


Cooler temperatures at night,
The air still, but not stagnating.
Rhythmic breathing rising from rest,
Stressed minds find a time less grating.

I have some news on the writing/blogging front, a website offered me a place to blog and I’ve taken them up on it! It’s quite exciting, but rather daunting. If you’d like to have a look at my first post, here it is:

The Theorist

I wrote this poem in the wee hours of the morn (you know, when you head to bed kinda needing to go but you think it can wait but then you wake up because it can’t) after conversations with two friends about a number of topics, most of which were conspiracy theories.


Unwittingly wise with worried beliefs
Be wary when views come nightly as thieves.
Hold your harmless lust for knowledge higher
And hope humble truth soothes all the desire,
Lest lascivite infections loose your grip,
Logic’s lost, and sanity’s seen to slip.