Thinking a lot about my son struggling towards exams in a few months time and with some serious stumbles and hurdles along the way, I came across a poem from last year.
Dyslexic Diaries
On a shelf under dust,
with chargers and disks
lies a book, overlooked
where your scribblings survive.
In a Spanish note-book
amongst unfinished work
lives an elf armed with knives and a bow.
Across pages he sneaks,
crossing lands on light feet
and I wonder what language he speaks.
There are battles you drew
between armies of ants
armed with swords,
beetle tanks,
now forgotten in drawers,
in the midst of a war.
Signs of Tolkein’s I find,
Tintin, Halo and Shrek,
all adapted and changed by your hand.
Amongst papers in piles,
Slow maturing in style
unknown worlds that were part of your life.
Dhaka 2014
So well written. It touches a nerve, because all three of us. granmother, mother and child has the same problem. I wish him luck-
Really touched my heart. Why? Have my own reasons.
That is the interesting thing about poetry, some poems touch certain people, but often for different reasons, and understood in different ways. I am always glad when a poem touches a nerve.
Nice