Discover more from KP Writes by Kevin Pocock
Boots are off
The poet is back, but needs a polish
Afternoon! It is here and now, at least.
As part of my trying to unshackle the creative mind I’ve locked in the attic of my grey matter, I agreed with H I’d write daily. Anything. A few paragraphs, a little rhyme, even a haiku.
Daily doing of things is a good practice it seems and, well, it’s working fairly reasonably.
We recently had consecutive incidents, two nights running, where some fools thought it funny to boot our front door and then run away. Likely it was to get a rise out of the boy*, and it was likely teenagers given it was half-term for the schools.
I suppose we got off lightly given other goings-on in the fairly local area as people have reported eggs and other projectiles being thrown for whatever reason. It’s incredibly irritating of course, and a little unnerving too.
In any case, I wrote a little poem about it as a therapeutic machination. The bootings haven’t happened since, so who says there’s no power in poetry?
Here you go, I hope you enjoy it. Oh and if you’re not signed up to ‘KP Writes’ (this one’s for subs, paid or not, and those browsing on the site), I’d love to send you my latest scribblings, so hit the below button. The poem is below the button.
Wishing you well-mannered shoes
* ‘The boy’ is what I call our wonderful dog, love him.
The fools who boot the doors of others should learn from their fathers and mothers.
Ways and outlets for their boredom, to help retrain bad habits…and then some.
Inflicting on others a grievance or pain is nothing but self-grievance enflamed.
A wind-licked raptor that turns to bite the very caster of that kite.
So to those who boot the doors of others, I send this note so tired of the bother.
Leave off and flame your passions' spark.
...Or go boot a damn ball around a park.