The Launch by Reece Malcolm

So I have been writing since I was 7, inspired by my father’s own passion for poetry and his enviable way with words. My older brother’s remarkable love affair with poetry also started at a young age and his career has really taken off this year. You should check him out if you get a chance, he ROCKS.

But perhaps the most amazing thing for me right now is that my 9 year old son came home from school today and showed me a poem he wrote. I was overwhelmed with pride and cannot wait to see where this new interest, this new talent, can take him, so I promised I would share his poem on my blog, hopefully launching what could be an amazing life of rhyme.

How apt that his first ever piece is entitled “Launch”. I hope you’ll see the potential I see when you read it. Enjoy!!


 

LAUNCH
By Reece Malcolm
BEFORE TAKEOFF

Glass eyes see
people prepared
for the journey ahead
for the gigantic rocket
to fart out the fiery flames

Glass ears hear
rumbling like a hungry
grey wolf ready to
flame up and explode

Glass mouths scream
in the caved belly
of the wolf
squealing out loud

Glass hearts feel
terrified in the chill
shivering in the cold
soon they might start to
mould.

TAKEOFF

Glass eyes see
the rocket pushing
into the air
leaving steam
behind it as
it goes into
the black sea
of nothingness.

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Outline

I’ll curl up right inside myself,
I’ll curl up and I’ll hide,
I’ll hide there right inside myself,
Shrinking, liquefied,
I’ll curl up right inside myself,
They won’t notice I’m not here,
They’ll think I still fill out my skin,
They won’t see me disappear,
Hollow bones and stringy flesh,
Teeth and hair and nails,
The world will see my outline
While I slowly rub out the details.

Popping Corn

My head is full of popping corn,
Must let the right ones in,
Some are bitter, some forlorn,
All sodden; soaked in sin.

My head is full of popping corn,
A jumbled, maze-like din,
I cannot breathe; my cords are torn,
I’m choking on the string.

My head is full of popping corn,
Can’t let the black dog win,
But his howl’s already filched my dawn,
His dark has drawn me in.

Not Like The Movies

True love is not like the movies;
It is not always all singing and all dancing,
It doesn’t always hit you like a lightning bolt,
More often it is slow, and unassuming,
and so quiet that,
Sometimes,
You wouldn’t even know it was there.

True love is not like the movies;
There are no moments of remorseful epiphany
leading to grand gestures of love,
Just days of cold shoulders
and cupboard slamming,
Until one of you asks,
“Would you like some tea?”
And the other replies,
“That would be nice thank you, yes.”

True love is not like the movies;
There are few offices bursting at the seams
with red roses ‘just because’,
There are just toilet seats finally put down,
And piles of mashed potatoes
sort of in the shape of a heart.
Sort of.
If you squint.

True love is not like the movies;
There are no mid sentence kisses
to the backdrop of conveniently timed fireworks
that will steal away your breath,
There are just tight lipped pecks
adorned with toast crumbs
as you go in opposite directions
on the morning commute.

True love is not like the movies;
Your partner will break wind
and
it
will
smell,
You will fight – without the make-up sex,
Sometimes there will be no sex at all,
Lots of times there will be no sex at all,
Middles will spread and hairs will thin,

Someone will get sick,

You will argue about money,
You will hate each other at least once,
OK, maybe a little more than once,
You will do battle, sometimes with each other,
But more often together, against the world,
You will take it in turns to be the rock,
To cheer each other up,
To be a shoulder, an ear, a hand, a crutch,
You will witness the passage of each others lives
and your own will be better for it,
You will learn and you will grow,
You may feel empty at times, sure,
But mostly you will feel fulfilled,
You will overflow,
You will overcome,
you will endure.
Because true love is not like the movies;
It is real,
It is endless,
It is not bound by the rules of life and death,
It is perfectly imperfect,
And it never fails.

True love is not like the movies;
it’s better.

First Love

You held my hand when I was young,
I looked up and saw more than my father,
I saw the first man I would ever love,
And the mould for each man thereafter.

You showed me the beauty of strength
when it’s blended with a gentle core,
How to appreciate all that I have,
While still pushing myself to be more.

You taught me the value of family,
And that the brain is vessel to feed,
You taught me selflessness and humility,
And the world between want and need.

You taught me how to seek respect,
And showed me how to self-reflect,
How to always reach for the stars,
And how to never accept anything less.

All this and more you have shown me,
And for all this and more I give praise,
You have made me the woman I am,
And I will love to ’til the end of my days.

Can’t you see my happy face?

Can’t you see my happy face?
I’m smiling, can’t you see?
These are tears of joy, you know,
Your blessings gladden me.

Can’t you see my happy face?
It’s the best news the world,
I can’t wait to meet your little one,
Whether boy or whether girl.

(Can’t you see my empty space?
The hole inside my heart?
I may feel glad at what you have,
But I’m also torn apart…)

Can’t you see my happy face?
I’m ecstatic, and it shows,
I’m happy that you’re happy,
And that’s the only truth you’ll know.

Poetry by Niobe Malcolm Copyright 2016 All Rights Reserved

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