Kitchen at Parties

We all know the song, yeah, of course we do! Here I am, another party, another kitchen! This one is all new and sparkly with bright new appliances, bright new cookware and so on. I was in my usual place in the corner, can of beer in my hand and basically trying to look like I was having a good time.

I tag along with my friends to these parties, nowadays these are house warming events of newly wed friends or acquaintances. Not so long ago they were the after the pub gatherings where we would be half drunk before we ever reached the house. Many things went on at these parties, things I seemed to be excluded from. I still used to go, what else was I to do?

Now my friends are all getting married , often I am the only one in the pub on a Friday evening, the only one of a once burgeoning group of young twenty somethings.

These house warming parties are often the last time I see these old friends. Until the next party, the next married couple invite all the other married couples to their parties. I often feel I get invited out of habit. I once belonged to their group. Now we have different priorities, different lives.

The kitchen is warm. Why do singles always elevate to the kitchen at parties? Is it because we have no one to cuddle up to? Is it because we are scared to enjoy ourselves? Is it because it’s where the beer is stored?

Music thumps away in the background as the evening drags on. This party, this couple leave me as the last single person of our old gang.

This evening does not end as happily for me as it does in the song. I go home alone and wait to be in another kitchen at another party.

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

The Path

Lined by forest trees, as if on guard,
the path leads ever on into the distance.
Sunlight only between the noon hours,
else dappled is the light that falls.
Shadows follow every footstep, every mile.
Sounds of nature all around, creatures unseen.

The track is a well trodden trough,
worn deep by those that went before.
On either side long grass offers resting places
for the weary travellers who chose this way.
Yet rarely is the grass flattened
by those that took up this resplendent offer.

Phantoms of travellers that went before,
drifting by as if carried on the air.
Their faces turned toward their goal,
walking silently, heads held high.
Those that decide to walk this way,
walk alone, no aid or comfort carried.

They do not walk on a pilgrimage,
this way is a choice for life, taken freely.
Discarded are the burdens of wealth,
replaced by the freedoms of choice.
Free from the troubles of man
and his religions, loves and hates.

Anyone can take the path if they so choose,
there are no restrictions, rules of entry.
To walk freely without woes,
to be free of unkindness, cruelty.
Be consumed by one overwhelming passion,
to never reach the end, and walk forever.

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Time

And so life continues,

the seconds tick by turning into minutes,

hours and days never losing their rhythm.

Time is an odd sensation,

we cannot touch it, drink it or eat it,

yet still it marches on

whether we watch the clock or not.

Our only visual signs of times passage,

day turning to night,

back to day once again.

The travels of our sun and moon,

stars at night floating through the black.

The clock ticking on the wall,

a man-made device to show it's passing.

Man's need to count the days means little

when you think of how many days there are.

No man will ever see them all,

nor count to include the final one.

We name the days, give them numbers,

all meaningless in the passage of time.

One day none of us will be here

to recollect this passage through time.

It will be someone else’s turn

to ponder the meaning of times rhythm

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Happy?

To think, all I ever wanted was to be happy.

Not one for fast cars (or fast women),

that happy-go-lucky fella with a smile on his face.

Endeavouring to be a good friend to those

that accept my friendship, expecting little in return.

Happily cooking for you, entertaining you,

the butt of your jokes with a smile on my face.

All I ever wanted was to make you happy!

Where did it all go wrong for me?

I was the one looking for happiness,

now it's you I'm trying to please!

When did I stop thinking about me

and start trying to please you?

Why have I stopped caring about me?

Questions start running through my mind,

creating turmoil as they bounce around my skull.

After all these years I finally stopped to think!

Why did I stop?

What do I think?

Where does all this thinking take me now?

It is not a case of stopping my life while I think,

I have to get on, life is passing me by!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Tomorrow is a new day (Beginning)

Tomorrow is a new day,

the beginning of the unknown.

The people we meet and talk to,

are looking for something new in us.

Whether it be words or ideas,

we need to fulfil this desire,

if only for ourselves to say that we achieved it

and take pride in our small achievement.

During this new beginning,

we might meet someone new.

Offering new words or ideas,

making us look in a new way.

Joined thinking offers exciting horizons,

it could be family or professional.

We must accept these new approaches,

we may never see them again.

As the door on the old day finally closes,

freeing the way for the new door to open.

So should we accept this new challenge,

with fortitude and grace.

Our lives will become meaningful,

our experiences will be refreshed, renewed.

Do not despair at the ending of today,

for tomorrow is the next beginning.

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Waiting

The appointed time had arrived,

I stood waiting.

Would I recognise you from the photo,

people passed by.

There you were, walking towards me,

not recognising me.

My photo must either be very bad,

or not representative.

Holding my breath, I walk towards you,

saying your name as I close in.

You look to me, smiling, grateful to see me,

you were not stood up.

We talk hurriedly, where should we go?

A café around the corner.

Our chatter slows down, we scrutinise,

giving each other a once over.

We walk towards the café, talking nothings,

are you as nervous as me?

We enter, find a table and get served our coffees,

we look at each other.

The talking starts, we talk and talk,

like long lost friends.

Our hour passes all to quickly,

I want more.

We leave the café agreeing to contact,

swapping numbers.

Now here I sit, do I call you so soon?

It was only this morning.

I want to talk and talk like we did today,

already I miss you.

I email you, now I await your reply,

waiting!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Inspired by the latest Oxfam Campaign

Here are four poems I recently composed, they are all inspired by the latest Oxfam Campaign about food shortages, highlighting climate change and generally the wrongs in the system.
To read about the Oxfam campaign, visit here Oxfam

 

Climate Change

Seasons change,

as they always have.

Something is wrong,

the seasons don't match

their previous paths

Dry when it should be wet.

Wet when it should be dry.

Floods wash away crops.

Drought kills crops.

Winds wreck crops.

Food that should feed,

dies as the farmer watches.

Helpless.

Families suffer.

Children starve.

Livestock falters,

Children die!

We may not be able to alter

the damage we have done.

Let's feed those that suffer,

because of our avarice.

They did not cause this nightmare,

they are paying the consequences.

It's time to think differently,

The System's Bust!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Land Grabs.

Can you imagine how it must feel,

to have the land you need to survive,

the land you call home, taken away?

You live on a smallholding,

farming enough to survive,

enough to feed your family.

Along comes this man,

he says you must leave your home,

go away, at the point of a gun!

This is done in the name of progress,

you starve to make others rich.

Others starve alongside you.

The man gets rich on your loss,

the land goes to waste, fallow.

Nothing grows where once stood crops.

How do you feel now?

It’s time to think differently,

The System’s Bust!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Food Price Hikes

How is running a car

more important than eating?

This is a question you would ask,

if you were starving!

How can it be right,

that people starve whilst food rots?

Warehouses full of grain,

rats having the time of their lives.

Think about Africa or India,

continents that daily go without.

Start to think of Europe, the Americas.

Look down your street,

who is going hungry tonight?

Children cry themselves to sleep,

through hunger!

Parents foregoing meals!

Now how do you feel about fuelling your car,

with that biofuel you bought today?

Do you even think of the food waste

that ends up in your bin?

Look in your fridge, what will you eat?

What will be thrown away without regard?

It's time to think differently,

The System's Bust!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield

Intensive Farming

You can see for miles,

the big sky, blue overhead.

The flatness of the land,

villages lost in the haze.

Far off church spires

glisten in the sunlight.

Water towers dot the skyline,

even from a distance, dominating.

This is Fenland,

This is Farmland!

Giant machines crawl over the land,

no hedgerows hide their progress,

no trees offering welcome shade.

Irrigation ditches the half-hidden landlines

that cut the land deeply, dividing.

Mile after mile of fertile soil

worked until it can produce no more.

Grain, fruit and vegetables,

destined for western tables,

and ultimately western bins.

Gone are the days when

farming was a way of life.

Living off the land,

selling the surpluses.

We now measure our surplus

by the value tied up in it.

Not in how many mouths it could feed,

not by thinking who will eat tonight?

It's time to think differently,

The System's Bust!

©2011 Trevor Litchfield.