Wednesday, 2 April 2014

Poolside poems (Part II)

























Obviously I can't write poems while I'm watching the pool. That would be unprofessional and potentially dangerous (although nothing ever happens).

I have written poems on the poolside before that you can read here
But that was due to a freak morning when I had a whole hour watching a completely empty pool. When I probably should have done some cleaning or something but instead chose to sit and write some poems (obviously) haha

However, although I can't really sit on poolside writing poems, sometimes I get an idea for a poem that I can scribble down during my heat breaks (yes we literally get breaks from the 31 degree heat to save us from falling asleep while we're supposed to be making sure people don't drown). And I also quite often start to form poems in my head while I'm swimming or showering.

Here is a poem I "wrote" a few weeks ago while in the shower at work. Regular readers will no doubt know who it is about (before you even read it):


One day


As I reach the bottom of the stairs
there you are.
Stood in the nipple deep water
your back to the pool wall
so I only see you from behind.
You're wearing a different cap
and maybe a different costume too
and so logic tells me
that it's probably somebody else
but my gut knows that it's you.

With an outwards skip
and an inwards giggle
I dash for the changing room
where I get changed
faster than I have since I was a child
and my aunt baby sat
for me and my two sisters
challenging us to a race.
The first to get changed and ready for bed
could have an Everton mint.

Dressed to swim
I float to the poolside
carried by the butterflies
and shower with my back to the pool
I'm trying to hide my smile
because I'm quite literally beaming
with no real reasoning
maybe I should let you see it
but I wait for my smile to subside
before making my way to the waters edge
where your pink flip flops reside.

If there's still any doubt that it's you
your perfect technique gives you away.
I lower myself slowly into the fast lane
for I swim faster but you swim with elegance
gliding through the water a ballerina on point.
I start to swim
you continue to swim
but at some point
we both stop swimming at the same time.

Stood at the end of our lanes
backs to the wall
we exchange nervous glances
and awkward half smiles
I want to talk
but as I feel my whole body temperature rising
my mind is consumed with only one thought
she's only looking because you keep staring
don't stare.
Say something, anything.

I push off from the wall
and I start to swim.
You continue to swim
but at some point
we both stop swimming at the same time.
This happens again, a third time a fourth
four good opportunities to speak to you
but I will not take any of them
before you get out and go home.

I swim
motivated by the anger
that I have failed to talk to you again
I swim harder and faster
than I ever have before
and I make myself a promise.
That one day I will conquer my fear
and tell you how I feel.
One day. I tell myself.
One day.


(Hopefully it sits ok on the page? But it's more of a stage piece so I will no doubt be performing it when I get the chance - although I'm kind of in semi retirement from performing at the moment - and hopefully there will be a video that you can watch sometime soon.)


Ps. this is the last I will talk of the girl with the pink flip flops and the perfect swimming technique but if you wanted to know what happened next. I've already written about it here.

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