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
A Seagull's Prayer - Fred Brown
Footsteps fade on the sand runway
Through moon flight control and the tidal phase
Feathers shed from wayward courses
To new heights on the back of white horses
Spiralling round on thermals to heaven
Shores below left for dusk to redden
Crying laughter at the top of my voice
Till the oceans whisper without choice
Sail through me till my soul sings
With sunbeam wind-chimes under my wings
Breathe fluency into each wing flap
Till I soar with you over each mishap
Above dead suns, pink ice-sheets melting
Beyond bloated mountains, rainclouds pelting
To leave no trail of where I have flown
To let parted clouds be re-sewn
To lose trodden seashells to the tide
To live the rest of my life wide-eyed
Footsteps fade on the sand runway
Clear for landing on a brand new day
Fred Brown
Through moon flight control and the tidal phase
Feathers shed from wayward courses
To new heights on the back of white horses
Spiralling round on thermals to heaven
Shores below left for dusk to redden
Crying laughter at the top of my voice
Till the oceans whisper without choice
Sail through me till my soul sings
With sunbeam wind-chimes under my wings
Breathe fluency into each wing flap
Till I soar with you over each mishap
Above dead suns, pink ice-sheets melting
Beyond bloated mountains, rainclouds pelting
To leave no trail of where I have flown
To let parted clouds be re-sewn
To lose trodden seashells to the tide
To live the rest of my life wide-eyed
Footsteps fade on the sand runway
Clear for landing on a brand new day
Fred Brown
Cheesy Metaphors About Life - Fred Brown
Cheesy metaphors about life.
They might smell bad but they taste quite nice.
What you're about to hear may smell so wrong
But try and taste honestly through the pong.
Time is like swiss cheese, some say holy
And gobbled up quick like guacamole.
Use it most on your favourite dishes
To satisfy your hungriest wishes.
Some folks like tomato sauce
With everything from dessert to main course.
Others eat fish eggs on their motorbike -
Whatever you want! Whatever you like!
Think of a day like a cafe venue.
Each minute reads like a fancy menu.
Italian, Mexican or Chinese
There's time to try all delicacies.
You can fill each year from sea to sky
With a chocolate life-time supply.
Or Take 1 second and wrap it up
To savour like a Chupa Chup.
After you've eaten, how much will you tip?
Are you grateful for the taste on your lips?
Try to imagine when there's no more to eat -
Are you happy with the window seat?
If you look at an ocean full of salt
And can only see its fishy faults
Then I'd say you haven't got it.
There's a skeleton in your food closet.
But if you can spread honey on your hell-burnt toast
And give all your bananas to the chimp hurt most,
Then I'd say you're halfway there.
The stars are like sprinkles in the air.
Try eating a bowl of cereal.
Life's like that but more funereal.
Before you reach the bottom don't forget
That what you give is what you get.
Most people on this fruitful Earth
Will have their share of daily bread dearths.
It's hard to realise picnic baskets
In things hard to swallow like woe and caskets.
So when it's raining, try a cup.
It could quench your soul when next fed up.
When thunder's rumbling in your belly,
Welcome it like a wobbly jelly.
Hearts that grow cold, empty and rigid,
Are similar in description to new fridges.
Try some salad in there, baby milk or butter.
Hearts can find purpose with healthier clutter.
Being kind and being nice
Should be as common as plain white rice.
If you understand your neighbour's diet
It decreases the chance of a food fight riot.
And being right or being the best
Is not as important as feeding a guest.
If my tongue is bitter, give me a mint!
At least when I talk my breath won't stink.
Digesting this poem could be flabbergasting.
But a good cheese is often everlasting.
If you leave it for a while on the shelf, don't worry.
I'm quite the fussy eater myself. Sorry!
Fred Brown
They might smell bad but they taste quite nice.
What you're about to hear may smell so wrong
But try and taste honestly through the pong.
Time is like swiss cheese, some say holy
And gobbled up quick like guacamole.
Use it most on your favourite dishes
To satisfy your hungriest wishes.
Some folks like tomato sauce
With everything from dessert to main course.
Others eat fish eggs on their motorbike -
Whatever you want! Whatever you like!
Think of a day like a cafe venue.
Each minute reads like a fancy menu.
Italian, Mexican or Chinese
There's time to try all delicacies.
You can fill each year from sea to sky
With a chocolate life-time supply.
Or Take 1 second and wrap it up
To savour like a Chupa Chup.
After you've eaten, how much will you tip?
Are you grateful for the taste on your lips?
Try to imagine when there's no more to eat -
Are you happy with the window seat?
If you look at an ocean full of salt
And can only see its fishy faults
Then I'd say you haven't got it.
There's a skeleton in your food closet.
But if you can spread honey on your hell-burnt toast
And give all your bananas to the chimp hurt most,
Then I'd say you're halfway there.
The stars are like sprinkles in the air.
Try eating a bowl of cereal.
Life's like that but more funereal.
Before you reach the bottom don't forget
That what you give is what you get.
Most people on this fruitful Earth
Will have their share of daily bread dearths.
It's hard to realise picnic baskets
In things hard to swallow like woe and caskets.
So when it's raining, try a cup.
It could quench your soul when next fed up.
When thunder's rumbling in your belly,
Welcome it like a wobbly jelly.
Hearts that grow cold, empty and rigid,
Are similar in description to new fridges.
Try some salad in there, baby milk or butter.
Hearts can find purpose with healthier clutter.
Being kind and being nice
Should be as common as plain white rice.
If you understand your neighbour's diet
It decreases the chance of a food fight riot.
And being right or being the best
Is not as important as feeding a guest.
If my tongue is bitter, give me a mint!
At least when I talk my breath won't stink.
Digesting this poem could be flabbergasting.
But a good cheese is often everlasting.
If you leave it for a while on the shelf, don't worry.
I'm quite the fussy eater myself. Sorry!
Fred Brown
Mr. Brown - Pearl White Regan
 |
| Image Mr. Brown by Pearl White Regan |
Mr. Brown - Pearl White Regan
In January I dropped a box
when shopping in the Town,
a man returned it to my arms
and I met Mr Brown.
‘Twas February quite near the end,
that we both met again;
We dashed to the same dry doorway
to shelter from the rain.
The March winds didn’t stop us
from meeting when we could,
we walked, and talked, and laughed a lot
the way that true friends should.
Then in the April showers
we ran across the sand,
and when the Sun was setting
we held each other’s hand.
May was quite exciting
we saw each other more,
He showed me lots of lovely scenes
I hadn’t seen before.
But June was quite the nicest month
the Sun was shining down,
When in a gown of sparking white
I married Mr. Brown.
Pearl White Regan
Reality - Julie Gallienne
Hearts of stone
cracked open
exposed.
Feelings flood in
unwanted thoughts and emotions.
No place to hide
head on colision
with reality.
Reaching out for help
with fingers clawing
at snippets of hope.
Life's blows
pull the rug from our feet
leaving vunerable exposure
for the world to see.
Tears can't always be hidden
from prying eyes
anymore than the truth
can be hidden by lies.
Take time to notice
those in need
for they can't always ask
or be lowered to plead.
Just a look
hug
or a smile
can change a perspective
in the blink of an eye.
Julie Gallienne
cracked open
exposed.
Feelings flood in
unwanted thoughts and emotions.
No place to hide
head on colision
with reality.
Reaching out for help
with fingers clawing
at snippets of hope.
Life's blows
pull the rug from our feet
leaving vunerable exposure
for the world to see.
Tears can't always be hidden
from prying eyes
anymore than the truth
can be hidden by lies.
Take time to notice
those in need
for they can't always ask
or be lowered to plead.
Just a look
hug
or a smile
can change a perspective
in the blink of an eye.
Julie Gallienne
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