Look past the chair
And see the man,
With no functioning legs
He can’t stand,
Don’t assume just because
There’s no mobility,
That he has no brain
Or little ability,
See the man
Don’t look at the chair,
Or walk past and ignore him
Don’t pretend he’s not there,
The man is intelligent
Although his limbs may be weak,
That man has a tongue
And is able to speak.
Diane Scantlebury
Showing posts with label Disability. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disability. Show all posts
A Cup of Tea Please - Questa
Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in January 2013.
A cup of tea please
and two biscuits
thank-you very much
that table over there
by the window
with the view
Nothing for my friend
He's an Alien
Doesn't eat our food
You can offer
If you like
But where he's from
it's considered rude
Oh - and don't stare
I know he doesn't look
like an alien
but he is.
It must be the wheelchair
that throws you
It's a disguise
but he is an alien
Look at his eyes
They're cold and empty
since the accident
When he was human
and his mouth
made words
not noises
but he's harmless now
He can't get back
where he came from
Earth -
Questa
A cup of tea please
and two biscuits
thank-you very much
that table over there
by the window
with the view
Nothing for my friend
He's an Alien
Doesn't eat our food
You can offer
If you like
But where he's from
it's considered rude
Oh - and don't stare
I know he doesn't look
like an alien
but he is.
It must be the wheelchair
that throws you
It's a disguise
but he is an alien
Look at his eyes
They're cold and empty
since the accident
When he was human
and his mouth
made words
not noises
but he's harmless now
He can't get back
where he came from
Earth -
Questa
The Traveller - Ros Willard
Father was always an adventurer.
As a boy he journeyed in his imagination
to Africa.
Paddling across Penrose Lake
on the raft he had made
he was Burton or Speke,
Stanley or Livingstone,
searching for the source of the Nile.
As a young man
he climbed the Ruwenzori Mountains,
cycled from Izmir to Istanbul,
rode a golden Palamino across the Pyrenees.
In middle age
he cruised on luxury liners
to Antigua, Barbados, Mauritius,
travelled on the Patagonia Express,
the Deccan Queen, the Rocky Mountaineer,
painted watercolours
in Hong Kong, Honshu, Honolulu.
In old age
he wandered the streets,
bare-foot in the snow,
trying to find his way home.
Ros Willard
As a boy he journeyed in his imagination
to Africa.
Paddling across Penrose Lake
on the raft he had made
he was Burton or Speke,
Stanley or Livingstone,
searching for the source of the Nile.
As a young man
he climbed the Ruwenzori Mountains,
cycled from Izmir to Istanbul,
rode a golden Palamino across the Pyrenees.
In middle age
he cruised on luxury liners
to Antigua, Barbados, Mauritius,
travelled on the Patagonia Express,
the Deccan Queen, the Rocky Mountaineer,
painted watercolours
in Hong Kong, Honshu, Honolulu.
In old age
he wandered the streets,
bare-foot in the snow,
trying to find his way home.
Ros Willard
In the Company Of Madness - Diane Scantlebury
The human mind
Is the strangest thing,
I have just spent an evening
In the company of madness,
Switching and turning
This way, then that,
One minute sensible
The next unreasonable,
Insanity is selfish
Bringing those who care
To guilt and anger,
But this is pointless,
Because as soon as spoken
Things are forgotten,
Childlike the crazy one
Incites others to reaction,
For at that moment
They are the centre of attention,
Reasoning is futile
As there is no reason,
Fighting and feuding is futile
And can have no function,
For in the company of madness
All is nonsense.
Diane Scantlebury
Is the strangest thing,
I have just spent an evening
In the company of madness,
Switching and turning
This way, then that,
One minute sensible
The next unreasonable,
Insanity is selfish
Bringing those who care
To guilt and anger,
But this is pointless,
Because as soon as spoken
Things are forgotten,
Childlike the crazy one
Incites others to reaction,
For at that moment
They are the centre of attention,
Reasoning is futile
As there is no reason,
Fighting and feuding is futile
And can have no function,
For in the company of madness
All is nonsense.
Diane Scantlebury
Right Hand World - Lyndon Queripel
If you mean what you say
And want to play
Disadvantages lay
Ahead straight away
The game is set
The match is met
Place your bet
But don't forget
In this circumstance
It's a right hand world
With nothing left to chance
I know a lot about a little
And a little about a lot
But this right hand world
Has got my fingers in a knot
It seems in all the dreams
That are worth pursuing
The left hand doesn't know
What the right hand is doing
The game is hard
With no holds barred
You punch your card
With your future starred
But you will find
In this right hand world
It's been left behind.
Lyndon Queripel
And want to play
Disadvantages lay
Ahead straight away
The game is set
The match is met
Place your bet
But don't forget
In this circumstance
It's a right hand world
With nothing left to chance
I know a lot about a little
And a little about a lot
But this right hand world
Has got my fingers in a knot
It seems in all the dreams
That are worth pursuing
The left hand doesn't know
What the right hand is doing
The game is hard
With no holds barred
You punch your card
With your future starred
But you will find
In this right hand world
It's been left behind.
Lyndon Queripel
Forgive Me - Diane Scantlebury
If I don’t have my glasses on
I won’t see it,
If I don’t write it down
I won’t remember it,
So if I ignore you
Doesn’t mean I don’t know you,
Forgive me
I’m just getting old,
If I don’t feel it
Can it hurt me?
If I don’t understand it
Will I be ignorant?
If I turn a blind eye
Will I be negligent?
Forgive me
I’m just getting old,
But can I use age
As an excuse,
To be a bystander
And no longer contribute to life?
Or maybe I missed
The point altogether,
Forgive me
I must be getting old!
Diane Scantlebury
I won’t see it,
If I don’t write it down
I won’t remember it,
So if I ignore you
Doesn’t mean I don’t know you,
Forgive me
I’m just getting old,
If I don’t feel it
Can it hurt me?
If I don’t understand it
Will I be ignorant?
If I turn a blind eye
Will I be negligent?
Forgive me
I’m just getting old,
But can I use age
As an excuse,
To be a bystander
And no longer contribute to life?
Or maybe I missed
The point altogether,
Forgive me
I must be getting old!
Diane Scantlebury
RDA Volunteers - We Need You Please - Jenny Hamon
 |
| Image Source: Jenny Hamon |
This week is volunteer week and I wrote this poem to try to persuade people to volunteer as a helper with Riding for the Disabled. I sent it to the RDA headquarters and it has been placed on their facebook page today. I then thought I should show people not connected with RDA that we need volunteers and maybe they could join us.
If anyone is interested in helping the RDA please contact them using the details found here.
RDA Volunteers...We Need You Please - Jenny Hamon
Please take a moment to read my rhyme here.
We’re on the lookout for people to volunteer.
Someone who has some time to spare
To help people to ride and show you care.
The charity I mean is RDA
Oh can you explain please I hear you say.
Riding for the Disabled is our name,
To help people with problems to ride is our aim.
By giving your time you help someone achieve
Small things in life and they learn to believe
That they can be brave and allay their fears
With the help of the pony and our volunteers.
The ponies are specially trained for the task.
They are laid back and happy and will do as you ask.
Their nature is such that they want to please
And give to the rider the confidence he needs.
The bond between rider and pony will show
In so many ways that we may not know
But by helping a rider and giving him praise
The rider gains so much in so many ways.
They say “many hands” and that’s what we need,
Two people to side walk, another to lead,
To keep riders happy and safe while they ride,
And to talk and to guide while you walk alongside
If you are able and can give us your time
We will be grateful and you’ll fit in fine
You will have your rewards from the riders you meet
And to interact with the ponies is always a treat.
So if you are willing to give it a go
Please contact your local group or someone you know.
We will welcome your help and train you to do
A job that’s fulfilling and fun for you too.
Jenny Hamon
But Surely You Can't Dance - Aindre Reece-Sheerin
But surely you can't dance
Firstly, don't call me shirley
dance, of course I can dance
in my mind, this broken, old body takes flight
still spinning and turning and lifting higher than ever before
physically, I can spin my chair like no-one else can
I rhumba like a goodun - tango takes a little practice
but man can I jive and two girls at once too
many times have I been stared at for just
getting up on the floor as soon as the music starts
you see, I am only restricted in my chair
by my ambitions. luckily they are varied and vast
being held back since the accident? I knew it wouldn't last
so yes, I can dance with Shirley or anyone
who will take centre spot with me
Aindre Reece-Sheerin
Firstly, don't call me shirley
dance, of course I can dance
in my mind, this broken, old body takes flight
still spinning and turning and lifting higher than ever before
physically, I can spin my chair like no-one else can
I rhumba like a goodun - tango takes a little practice
but man can I jive and two girls at once too
many times have I been stared at for just
getting up on the floor as soon as the music starts
you see, I am only restricted in my chair
by my ambitions. luckily they are varied and vast
being held back since the accident? I knew it wouldn't last
so yes, I can dance with Shirley or anyone
who will take centre spot with me
Aindre Reece-Sheerin
Competition Winner - February 2013
Alone ~ Three Perspectives - Stephen A. Roberts
 |
| Image Source: Marcus Buchanan |
The image above is called 'Alone'. It was taken by Marcus Buchanan.
Alone ~ Three Perspectives - Stephen A. Roberts
The Chair
You've brought me down, John,
You've brought me down
to the beach
and left me, your exoskeleton
waiting for the tide
with the clam shells and echinoids
the grit has mucked up my wheels
and their shine has been dulled
by Nature's salt tears
It's alright for you, but
I will be removed
by the beach clearance team
while you and those seashells
float away on the next ebb
The Son
You've brought me down, Dad,
You've brought me down
to the beach
collecting pebbles
you linger over the bigger ones
the sea spray wet on your face
I can see that you're tired Dad
but you can still teach;
let's do photography tricks
some fast motion shots
then I'll fetch the chair
as we've come all this way
empty your pockets Dad
and I will take you home
The Poet
I've brought myself down,
I've brought myself
down to the beach
it's never easy
on your own alone
weighed down
by a coat full of stones
sometimes I'm submerged
in my thoughts;
drifting off until I realise
I've got work to do -
poems don't write themselves
now where did I put
that blasted chair?
Stephen A. Roberts
A Cup of Tea Please - Questa
A cup of tea please
and two biscuits
thank-you very much
that table over there
by the window
with the view
Nothing for my friend
He's an Alien
Doesn't eat our food
You can offer
If you like
But where he's from
it's considered rude
Oh - and don't stare
I know he doesn't look
like an alien
but he is.
It must be the wheelchair
that throws you
It's a disguise
but he is an alien
Look at his eyes
They're cold and empty
since the accident
When he was human
and his mouth
made words
not noises
but he's harmless now
He can't get back
where he came from
Earth -
Questa
and two biscuits
thank-you very much
that table over there
by the window
with the view
Nothing for my friend
He's an Alien
Doesn't eat our food
You can offer
If you like
But where he's from
it's considered rude
Oh - and don't stare
I know he doesn't look
like an alien
but he is.
It must be the wheelchair
that throws you
It's a disguise
but he is an alien
Look at his eyes
They're cold and empty
since the accident
When he was human
and his mouth
made words
not noises
but he's harmless now
He can't get back
where he came from
Earth -
Questa
Competition Winner - September 2012
Flight - Yasmin Mariess
As well I might, consider flight,
for I have wings, not feet.
For who needs feet to fly?
Legs that were once strong still there,
now in the confines of my chair.
I am unstoppable, the heart beats strong
It is the will that pushes on.
And upwards, to fly unfettered, free...
Hear me shout "I am still ME!"
Yasmin Mariess
for I have wings, not feet.
For who needs feet to fly?
Legs that were once strong still there,
now in the confines of my chair.
I am unstoppable, the heart beats strong
It is the will that pushes on.
And upwards, to fly unfettered, free...
Hear me shout "I am still ME!"
Yasmin Mariess
Gladiators - John Carré Buchanan
Channel 4 have been running a superb advertisement for the 2012 London Paralympics which start tomorrow. The advertisement is based upon the fact that the British Paralympic athletes are superhuman. Think about it; just for a few seconds please stop reading and think about it;
These people have a struggle to do things many take for granted, things such as; getting dressed, traveling to and from work, even mundane things like having a bath or going to the loo and that is before they start training. Each of them has adapted to, and overcome their personal difficulties and then gone further and learnt to compete at the very top of their chosen sports. This takes guts, determination and a singular focus on their goals.
These people are truly inspirational. In my eyes, the eyes of someone who finds just getting to tomorrow a struggle, they are magnificent, and yes they are in every sense of the word, Superhuman. My poem is dedicated to all of the Paralympians representing Great Britain, Go Team GB.
Gladiators - John Carré Buchanan
They stand proud.
Clothed in national colours
they form one body,
and that body exudes confidence.
The smiles on their faces betray them!
For these are smiles that know;
‘I can – I will’ and ‘I have’.
This knowledge;
born of unfathomable hardship
underpins all.
True - carbon fibre, plastics and alloys,
support bone, flesh and blood
but all are useless
without the knowledge.
So believe, British Gladiators,
believe and be proud.
And I will stand behind you
with a Nation that believes in -
and is proud of - you.
John Carré Buchanan
These people have a struggle to do things many take for granted, things such as; getting dressed, traveling to and from work, even mundane things like having a bath or going to the loo and that is before they start training. Each of them has adapted to, and overcome their personal difficulties and then gone further and learnt to compete at the very top of their chosen sports. This takes guts, determination and a singular focus on their goals.
These people are truly inspirational. In my eyes, the eyes of someone who finds just getting to tomorrow a struggle, they are magnificent, and yes they are in every sense of the word, Superhuman. My poem is dedicated to all of the Paralympians representing Great Britain, Go Team GB.
Gladiators - John Carré Buchanan
They stand proud.
Clothed in national colours
they form one body,
and that body exudes confidence.
The smiles on their faces betray them!
For these are smiles that know;
‘I can – I will’ and ‘I have’.
This knowledge;
born of unfathomable hardship
underpins all.
True - carbon fibre, plastics and alloys,
support bone, flesh and blood
but all are useless
without the knowledge.
So believe, British Gladiators,
believe and be proud.
And I will stand behind you
with a Nation that believes in -
and is proud of - you.
John Carré Buchanan
I’m Still Here You Know - Aindre Reece-sheerin
I’m still here you know. What with the rain and the snow
And even if sunshine, sure I’ve nowhere else to go
I’m still the one who raised you who fed you at my breast
Who at the tender age of ‘not quite two’ – took you to your first music fest
I helped you sing before you spoke
and slapped you in the middle of your back if you choked
I taught you reason I taught you rhyme
I gave you almost all of my time
So in these fleeting, ‘lucid’ moments of bliss
Hold me like I held you
Take my hand with a kiss
Tell me how much you love me and, its me that you miss
I’ve heard some talk of Alzheimer’s or Dementia
Though I know nothing of that
I just remember your first home nappies
Where everything started with ‘Splat’
I’m still here you or did you forget
When you look so deep into my eyes
The same as your’s – like the bright, blue skies
I’m still here you know and yet……
Why has everyone abandoned me
Why do they tell me what to do
Hoh! and there you go again little one
Potty on your head when its time for a pooh
Rarely but sometimes I forget who and where I am
My name? Why, its Doris, I’m my daddy’s little lamb
Must get the chips on and Andy will be here soon
Must get the chips on – ‘Don’t be talking stupid Doris – I’m not the King of Siam’
I’m still here you know – no I haven’t gone away
I’m a little older now and forgetful so sometimes my thoughts stray
Must get the chips on, somebody took the cat
Are we going out today, Oh my giddy Aunt, I must just clean that mat
What’s your name, are you here to see your Mother?
Its lovely that you come to see her
Mine never bother
I’m still here you know - Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of memories – only tuppence a bag
Doris is still here you know - Just take a closer look inside
Aindre Reece-sheerin
Dedicated to Doris E Ward Sheerin
And even if sunshine, sure I’ve nowhere else to go
I’m still the one who raised you who fed you at my breast
Who at the tender age of ‘not quite two’ – took you to your first music fest
I helped you sing before you spoke
and slapped you in the middle of your back if you choked
I taught you reason I taught you rhyme
I gave you almost all of my time
So in these fleeting, ‘lucid’ moments of bliss
Hold me like I held you
Take my hand with a kiss
Tell me how much you love me and, its me that you miss
I’ve heard some talk of Alzheimer’s or Dementia
Though I know nothing of that
I just remember your first home nappies
Where everything started with ‘Splat’
I’m still here you or did you forget
When you look so deep into my eyes
The same as your’s – like the bright, blue skies
I’m still here you know and yet……
Why has everyone abandoned me
Why do they tell me what to do
Hoh! and there you go again little one
Potty on your head when its time for a pooh
Rarely but sometimes I forget who and where I am
My name? Why, its Doris, I’m my daddy’s little lamb
Must get the chips on and Andy will be here soon
Must get the chips on – ‘Don’t be talking stupid Doris – I’m not the King of Siam’
I’m still here you know – no I haven’t gone away
I’m a little older now and forgetful so sometimes my thoughts stray
Must get the chips on, somebody took the cat
Are we going out today, Oh my giddy Aunt, I must just clean that mat
What’s your name, are you here to see your Mother?
Its lovely that you come to see her
Mine never bother
I’m still here you know - Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of memories – only tuppence a bag
Doris is still here you know - Just take a closer look inside
Aindre Reece-sheerin
Dedicated to Doris E Ward Sheerin
As Sure As I'll Ever Be - Aindre Reece-sheerin
Can you see what I can’t see
Could you be me if I were thee
What is it that you do there
Could you still do it if you were over here
Why is 2 times 2 four
Why does it rhyme with a knocking at the door
Or falling on the floor
Or being like a bird to Soar
Where am I who am I Why
Am I really innately shy
Just like a pig in a sty
Why can’t I take wing and fly
Why is ‘it’ so
Where should 'i' go –now
What is next
What was then
Where is now
Who am I why
Aindre Reece-sheerin
Could you be me if I were thee
What is it that you do there
Could you still do it if you were over here
Why is 2 times 2 four
Why does it rhyme with a knocking at the door
Or falling on the floor
Or being like a bird to Soar
Where am I who am I Why
Am I really innately shy
Just like a pig in a sty
Why can’t I take wing and fly
Why is ‘it’ so
Where should 'i' go –now
What is next
What was then
Where is now
Who am I why
Aindre Reece-sheerin
Pony & Rider - Jenny Hamon
I was inspired to write these poems as I have been a volunteer and Group instructor with our local group for many years.
I have had experience of the wonderful bond between horse and rider and the theraputic value for people with all sorts of disabilities or problems.
The Riding for the Disabled Pony - Jenny Hamon
My eyes are yours for just a while,
My legs, so strong, will walk a mile.
To share my world, my precious friend,
My gift of movement I will lend.
I give to you my body power,
For you to use for just an hour.
To shake off shackles and to see
A whole new world because of me.
Patiently I’ll stand and wait.
I’ll carry you with steady gait.
I’ll keep you safe and carefree here.
In me you have a friend so dear.
In my dreams we’ll gallop free,
Along the beach, beside the sea.
Your wheels are gone, there is no need.
Just you and me, your trusty steed.
Jenny Hamon
The Disabled Rider
I feel your muscles, hear your hooves,
With joy of liberating moves.
You give me time and space to see
Your world that never restricts me.
A glimpse of life that’s free and able,
Instead of living with a label.
Upon your back I am just “me”,
A rider who is young and free.
But do not think that I despair,
While riding on my chestnut mare.
I shake the shackles from my feet,
And for that hour my life’s complete.
A precious gift you leave with me,
You give me life and help me see
There is a world that I can share
Despite me “living” in a chair.
Jenny Hamon
 |
| Image Source - Jenny Hamon |
I was inspired to write these poems as I have been a volunteer and Group instructor with our local group for many years.
I have had experience of the wonderful bond between horse and rider and the theraputic value for people with all sorts of disabilities or problems.
The Riding for the Disabled Pony - Jenny Hamon
My eyes are yours for just a while,
My legs, so strong, will walk a mile.
To share my world, my precious friend,
My gift of movement I will lend.
I give to you my body power,
For you to use for just an hour.
To shake off shackles and to see
A whole new world because of me.
Patiently I’ll stand and wait.
I’ll carry you with steady gait.
I’ll keep you safe and carefree here.
In me you have a friend so dear.
In my dreams we’ll gallop free,
Along the beach, beside the sea.
Your wheels are gone, there is no need.
Just you and me, your trusty steed.
Jenny Hamon
The Disabled Rider
I feel your muscles, hear your hooves,
With joy of liberating moves.
You give me time and space to see
Your world that never restricts me.
A glimpse of life that’s free and able,
Instead of living with a label.
Upon your back I am just “me”,
A rider who is young and free.
But do not think that I despair,
While riding on my chestnut mare.
I shake the shackles from my feet,
And for that hour my life’s complete.
A precious gift you leave with me,
You give me life and help me see
There is a world that I can share
Despite me “living” in a chair.
Jenny Hamon
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