The Echoes poetry competition to celebrate Write Out Loud's 20th anniversary is now open.  Judged by Neil Astley.

Competition closes in 9 days, 15 hours. Get details and Enter.

Escape Artist

entry picture

squeeeeeeezing my way
down this slimy tube no
doubt about it it needs
no lube happening so
fast voices I hear two
of them I’ve heard
before the rest I
do not know I
figured that
the way to
be was
just go
with
the

f
e
a
r
f
u
l

f
l
o
w

a
n
d

t
h
e
n

errrrrrgggghhh

I’M OUT!
and what a change I feel
so cold it is and dryer than
the place I’ve been for months
all scrunched up with
water-wizened skin
and wonder

PAUSE

now they're sending me to school
what on earth for
it doesn't make sense
I just want to dream
haven't got time to appease
the teaching machine
end of term reports
always say the same thing:
"Out of the windowpane he stares
the boy's an escapist
doesn't care about the
things which count"
(like one-two buckle my screw)
better than being a rapist
is what I boldly say
unlike them who strip kidz
souls then leave a hole
into which every kind of crap
which fits into the gap
can find a home
so I became an absconder
which is another word
for escapist who does it
with his body not his mind

PAUSE

some years then passed
I walked the aisle
no one saw I didn't smile
office work humiliates
still stared out of windowpanes
at forty-two (well wouldn't you?)
always settled for second best
lousy heart pains in my chest
gave me some escape from drudge
on the ward they thinned my blood
you've had a narrow escape they said
(I didn't care)
prescribed more bed
a prisoner of the sheets I was
bed sores old before my time
gracelessly retired to find
bow out engraved upon my mind
All my life has ever been
is one escape act scene on scene
I took to writing clever verse
specialised in trailing rhyme
it took my mind beyond the clouds
escape route used up borrowed time

PAUSE

now I'm in a box again I say again because
it's kind of something like the slimy tube
I started with down which I funnelled
to this world some would say to
which we're hurled on my
gravestone words were
cut "Here lies a bloke
who slit his wrists
the final curtain
on his act
he was a
true

e
s
c
a
p
e

a
r
t
i
s
t"
 

Escape

◄ Snow in May

The Cuckoo's Strut ►

Comments

Profile image

Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 8th May 2011 22:33

Very imaginative. I especially liked the 'school kid' stanza.

Profile image

Isobel

Fri 6th May 2011 19:31

Ha ha - I love it! I'd love it more if his hands weren't obscuring the big picture...

You've managed to put a big smile on my face which is brilliant! Black humour cos there is some sadness in it - and I think we can all recognise a bit of life's trials - but funny nonetheless!

I get the impression of a round peg in a square hole. Love the analysis of school - can totally identify - it is even worse nowadays - if you are into creative writing that is. My secondary school child doesn't seem to do any of it. In my days it stopped at A level stage but it stops a lot earlier now.

'some years passed
I walked the aisle
no-one saw I didn't smile'

Could identify with that one also - though I did have a laugh on my wedding day - it wasn't shared with the right person...

I'm impressed by the speed you wrote it. I'm labouring to do owt at the moment. You are a lovely addition to the site! xx

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message