Tag: poetry

By Elizabeth Saunders with apologies to Alan Alexander Milne

 

Whenever I walk down a Brisbane street,

I’m ever so careful to watch my feet

And I keep from the lines

Or it’s double-up time.

Tactile paving is oft the worst to step on

No steps is best, or else two must be upon.

But no gait change allowed

(That counts as a step)

It must be all even among the crowd.

 

There are bears in my brain which make up the rules

I don’t know what they are til I’m given the chills.

Driveways, usually, an even number of steps

Sticks, leaves and seedpods must be re-stepped.

Running’s the worst,

(And with no headphone a curse.)

I halt on my jog – a utility cover.

I’ll have to turn round and look for another

Route to get home but all paths are the same,

Too many parts to mimic and maim.

 

The bears growl to each other

Inside my brain

About the lines on the footpath

And the marks on the drain.

The masses of bears,

They see the germs too.

Telephones, lift buttons and eftpos devices

Handles and handshakes: unsanitary vices.

I do my hand washing and I use my hand gel,

The bears think I’m a silly

But I use hand wipes as well.

 

Some of the younger bears try to pretend

That it’s all about footpaths

Or germs on one’s skin.

But the bigger bears know that in the scariest lairs

They go beyond childhood games and cares

For deep down inside are the menacing bears.

 

The intrusive thoughts, those menacing bears,

They tear apart every one of your cares.

The worst thing you can think of,

Your boggart – that’s you.

You “know” it’s not true – but really, do you?

You might try to pretend to be someone’s friend

Then hurt them somehow

Or whatever it is that you think is most foul.

 

The bears in your brain, they know that it’s true

The worst of the worst – the bears tell you it’s you.

It’s ever so portant that you don’t balk

As you try to believe your therapist’s talk

And it’s ever so frightful to beg out “Bears,

Stop the intrusive thoughts from the darkest of lairs!”