War Child

It has been quite a while since I last posted anything on this blog. I guess it's the same for many folk right now, what with all that's been going on in the world. It's probable that many have written much less because of lockdowns, wars and rumours of wars. But for me, it has been the opposite. I have been writing. I just haven't been writing academic material. My attention has turned to poetry, and as the most recent previous posts on this blog indicate, I'm deeply involved in reading, editing, publishing and performing poetry in numerous contexts. 

My most recent publication reflects the situation right now in Ukraine. A few weeks ago I was contacted by Save The Children - a global charity that supports children in crisis. Currently they are struggling to help all of the refugee children that are coming out of Ukraine, and they need as much help as they can get. So I took a few dozen of my older poems and a few new ones that focused on the theme of war, and put them together. The result is the book you see here - it's called War Child and it's just been published. All profits from the sales of the book (which is in both Kindle and paperback formats) will go to support Save The Children's efforts in Poland, Romania, Hungary, Moldova and other areas where Ukrainian refugee children are being cared for. Please, if you can, support this effort by purchasing a copy! 

You can buy through Amazon at various sites across the globe, including....

Amazon UK, Amazon USA, Amazon Australia, Amazon Canada, Amazon Germany, Amazon France, Amazon Spain, Amazon Italy, Amazon Netherlands, Amazon Turkey, Amazon Japan, Amazon Brazil, Amazon Mexico

Grades are like grenades

Photo from Flickr 

Grades are grenades exploding in the mind like waves and wounding little children as they try to find a place to avoid the flying shrapnel of sarcasm and hide behind the walls they build and weep within a chasm of silence their faces contorted with confusion at the verbal violence.

Grades are like grenades

With remnants of regret they strive to avoid the bottom set while aspiring to be the teacher’s pet which is something many grasp for but few will reach if the teacher is as cold as polar ice and does little more than teach and preach and throw content about like gambling dice.

Grades are like grenades

The curriculum is dour and should be rearranged but lesson plans pass through many hands unchanged, unrevised and undisturbed which leaves the children unprepared and much perturbed about where their future in society rests while expression and creativity matter less than tests.

Grades are like grenades

Steve Wheeler © 29 June, 2020

Locked inside

Photo by Nino Barbieri on Wikimedia Commons

George was locked inside his own head.

He couldn't get out. He didn't want to get out. He was quite comfortable, locked inside his own head.

The inside of his head felt safe and secure. Everything inside his head was familiar. Outside his head the world looked scary and unpredictable.

And so George sat there alone with his own thoughts, playing games inside his mind. He never played with the other children, even when they asked him. He was comfortable on his own, free to be himself, inside his own mind. Inside George's head, everything was possible, there was no-one to tell him what to do, and no-one could make him feel sad.

The other children looked at George and were curious. They tried to talk to him, but George said nothing. He wouldn't even look at them. They tried to get him to play with them, but George just sat there, staring ahead. In the end, the other children got bored with George. Then they called him names. Then they ran away laughing. They left George alone, locked inside his own head.

George was always alone with his own thoughts.

One day, George began to wonder what it might be like to escape from his own head. He imagined what it would be like to unlock the door in his mind and go outside. But he couldn't. It was scary outside his head, and he began to get anxious about leaving his safe place. So he stayed locked up inside. All around him, the children played and laughed and danced, and ran. And George just sat there, staring ahead, and locked inside his own head.

Until, one day, Maisie came along.

She looked at him and wondered what George was thinking. But George just sat there, staring ahead.

So Maisie gently touched his hand. George looked down, and then he looked at her. She had a nice face, he thought. George smiled, and suddenly the lock in the door inside his head began to turn. It opened and the light streamed in, and George didn't feel unsafe any more. In fact he was happy. His smile began to widen.

He jumped up, and soon he and Maisie were running around, laughing and playing together. As they ran between the trees and through the long grass together, he thought 'this is fun!'

Maisie agreed, and her tail wagged with joy.



Locked inside by Steve Wheeler was written in Plymouth, England and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.