Personal Testimony

Definitely, I think there are cases
where those together look like each other.
Maybe do from the start, in their faces,
or change to resemble one another.

Of course, some similarity may grow
in other-than-looks attributes they have.
Physical and attitudinal, show.
Some earlier solo aspects not save.

Living close together could do the trick.
And man I saw said, applies to pets too.
Like his owner, or owner him, a bit.
Suggested me and my dog, as if true.

But quick repartee on my part, a joy.
I said, “he is a very handsome boy”.

What is funny about any of this?
Comedy. Seems as if giving a miss.
If knew of a joke, I would not desist.
Tell it, along with its humorous twist.

But I am not able to raise a laugh.
Cannot even think of something quite daft.
Can’t remember a good one from times past.
What amused me then, in my mind not last.

Yet, as I write this, a man walks on by,
gripping in his hand lots of blown-up balloons.
Maybe with them he could take-off; could fly,
my witty imagination assumes.

I think, some could burst, others fly away.
Laugh hysterically? Someday, I may.

I had as many enemies as friends,
that’s what I conclude to have been the case.
Grievance, prejudice, dislike, caused offence
Maybe simply thought, did not know my place.

Some were close to home. Others where I worked.
Thought me unworthy of what I’d become.
Harboured a grudge, as if I had usurped.
Contempt had a goal, whilst Respect had none.

Many who were colleagues, or called ‘comrades’,
were actually uncollegiate
and uncomradely, with their ready blades.
Transformation, when down, immediate.

Too self-absorbed to be counted as friend.
My enemies came for me, at the end.

He is, genuinely, a great poet.
To my way of thinking, a laureate.
The body of work, examined, shows it.
Should be eminent, from whom emanate.

Genuinely good politically.
Clear mind can analyse situations,
and opinions favour equality.
To events, can provide explanations.

Genuinely trying as a carer.
Do the shopping, make the food, am around.
Of many tasks, where able, the bearer.
Understated, but this role quite profound.

Bit egotistical, tentatively.
But it is who it is, genuinely.

Been told I have a detached retina.
My left eye compensates with great vision.
Like it’s a pro. Other, poor amateur.
Likely operate, be the decision.

Quip, ‘won’t be able to see you right now’
And, no faith, as ‘seeing is believing’.
If ‘turn a blind eye’, by that means, allow.
To the letter, might be ‘a misreading’.

Still, the ‘not seeing now’ reminded me
of man desperate to see his doctor.
Told ‘not now’, but was determined to see,
so rushed-in saying ‘can’t wait any more’.

Exclaimed, “I’m Shrinking, to quite an extent”.
“Well, you’ll have to be a little patient”.

My wife was born a mill-weaver’s daughter.
Grew-up during war and when times were hard.
Did not have the chances that she ought a.
Might have thought her character would be scarred,

with all the unfair discrimination,
and the abuse which she was subject to.
But came through by her determination,
work, and study to increase what she knew.

I knew her as brilliant and beautiful.
In both, she far exceeded most, and me.
In teaching, and politics, radical.
And ‘gave’ with love, almost effortlessly.

Born a painter’s and mill-weaver’s daughter,
turned-out superb. I want to applaud her.

As generous as could be expected.
More so, in fact, than the mean average.
My situation therefore accepted.
Could perceive it as being privileged.

But must admit feeling dissatisfied.
Would like more, but that is not for more wealth.
Sufficient now, what my past did provide.
To attain extra, not aim of myself.

My desire is to live well, for longer.
Be … more … in good health in body and mind.
In my role as carer, feeling stronger.
The talents I have, stay, not be denied.

Not matter, glory or fame to my name.
Love retained is the more I want to gain.

Have one more say. Will have my say, once more.
Compilation of my thoughts into words,
in the poetry form that I adore.
Selectively chosen, ones which preferred.

There is no societal prize from this.
It is undertaken to please myself.
Showing that they exist; that I exist.
Beyond me, possible life for themselves.

But even if not known, read or spoken,
they represent my act of defiance.
When my place for speaking-out was broken,
used this to speak loud my non-compliance.

Probably less, from now on, I daresay.
But will have my say once more. One more say.

I am a shadow of the man I was.
A flicker on the shutter reflected
black and white from the window. Me, its source.
Only if looked-for, am I detected.

I am the unspoken that could be said.
Words mysteriously formed. Maybe, read.
Or from the mouth of someone else instead.
Behind them, insistent, “I am not dead”.

I am not dead. Just in a remote place.
As if exiled, subsequent to disgrace.
Banished. Left to wander around in space.
Presence that was mine, having been erased.

Strange, I suppose, if was the man I was.
Over time, lost. Now, flicker on and off.

I am going in the right direction.
I know that, as only one way to go.
Forward, then, has to be the intention,
as backward would mean a nothing-new show.

Do not have to race toward the finish.
Can take it quite leisurely; even slow.
And if find my faculties diminish,
can still make use of what it is I know.

Think of it as a river in sunlight,
on its way, by way of an easy flow.
Glistens, as it travels in the daylight.
And, under moonlight, too, surface will glow.

All the while, going as Nature requires.
Ahead. Yet still shine, embers from own fires.