Poetry

Lesson

I crave it. The knowledge

you have, the hours of practice you’ve put it.

I want to gain it for myself, I’m not afraid of putting in the work

but how can I train, how can I improve

when being observed

freezes up every thought I have?

The frustration at myself builds.

The explanations are clear, so why do I misunderstand?

There must be a way around it. Trust that I won’t be judged

when my work needs correcting.

Trust

that I don’t have to be perfect

from the start.

Poetry

All potted up

I have a little seedling,

it’s just sprouted green leaves,

it waves about in the wind

and makes our cat sneeze.

 

I want to give it a home,

so I’ve found a neat brown pot

and filled it with earth

all the way to the top.

 

I’ll make a small hole

using an old lollipop stick

and put my seedling in it

so the stem grows nice and thick.

 

Then for the important bit,

I’ll need to give it a drink.

I heard rainwater’s best,

not just water from the sink.

 

After that, I’ll have to wait

and care for it with love,

only then will it flower

from its tender buds.