A Full Life

Two years ago a doctor told me that it was unrealistic for me, a fifty year old man, to want to live the sort of active life that I lived before my accident and that I should accept my lot.

To me his suggestion was like telling a lion to eat grass, it wasn't going to happen. I decided then and there that I had had enough of doctors and their drugs. Two years on I have just completed my first major goal.

I hope this poem might inspire someone else to grab the bull by the horns and find the courage to go for it.

A Full Life

They said;
"After this you'll be able to live a full life."
But what did they really mean?
How did these overweight, red faced,
middle age men define "live"?
I'd never run again.
I'd never climb, or swim or jump
Or live....
but in their view,
why would a fifty year old want to run, climb or jump?
They had consigned me to their bin
their 'has been' bin.
Leave life to the young,
accept the constraints of a failing body,
fade into the mass.
So I said "NO".
I threw away their drugs,
dug deep and fought to live life again.
Baby steps at first
then as meters turned to K's
I felt the real me rise again.
Quiet determination at first
and then a blazing;
"I CAN"
"I WILL"
as the pain burned deeper
the fire within grew
and the "I CAN"
became "I DID"
and now I am ready;
To LIVE.

John Carré Buchanan
02 September 2015

A Lucid Moment

When I started this poem I intended to examine the frustrations of growing old, losing one’s physical abilities and being left with only memories. As I wrote I realised that a far greater tragedy would be to know that you are losing those memories. I hope you like the poem;

A Lucid Moment

I never thought I'd live so long,
I didn't really plan to
I lived my life at full speed
taking risks I aught not to.

I jumped from planes
and scaled tall cliffs
I dived beneath the sea
I even stood in foreign lands
while people shot at me.

I climbed tall mountains
crossed deserts wide,
and forded rivers deep.
I hacked a path through jungles
where scary critters creep.

I loved once
with burning fire
but sickness took my heart’s desire
and I was left to live alone
with a broken heart, turned to stone.

Yes,
I planned to be a candle bright
to live life short and sweet.
but now I have the tee-shirt
life ain't half as neat.

I had a young man’s mind
In an old man’s frame
I wanted to play;
Not remember the game.

Yet now life’s dealt its cruellest blow
It stole memories formed long ago
and left me alone to sit and stare,
a frail old man
in a green armchair.

John Carré Buchanan
16 September 2015

If you click on the link below you can listen to me read this poem.



This poem is linked to Poets United.

The Drum

Whilst swimming this morning I became aware of my pulse beating away in my head, this triggered a thought process which resulted in the following poem, I hope you like it;

The Drum

The drum beats,
B-boom, B-boom,
its steady rhythm
constant,
metronymic,
filling the body
with a soft, deep, pulse,
B-boom, B-boom.
At full charge,
or a mere murmur,
it matches the pace of life;
as the drummer beats
the backing track
through the whole gig.

John Carré Buchanan
04 September 2014

Sarah Teelow - In Memoriam

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Sarah Teelow, The F2 Water-ski World Champion, came off her ski during the Bridge to Bridge Water Ski Classic on the Hawkesbury River in Australia on Sunday.

She sustained serious spinal and head injuries and was airlifted to hospital. Sadly she died on Monday evening.

My thoughts are with her family and friends.

Sarah Teelow - In Memoriam
Women's Waterski (Formula Two) World Champion

Wind in her face.
Plume from her ski.
Pure power.
Pure speed.
Pure, beauty.

No place she'd rather be
than out on the water, on a ski.
Pure power.
Pure speed.
Pure, beauty.

Wind in her face.
Plume from her ski.
Eternal still waters,
Australian beauty.

John Carré Buchanan
26 November 2013

7,000,000,000

The United Nations used yesterday to symbolically announce the birth of the 7 billionth human. The celebrations began in the Philippines, where baby Danica May Camacho* was born just before midnight on the 30th October.

Danica (which means Morning star) joins the rest of us on a planet which is quickly becoming overcrowded and devastated by mankind. The “celebrations” inspired me to write this poem;

(* in Photo from MSN Today News)

7 Billion

They say the world’s population
hit seven billion people today.
That’s a seven with nine noughts on the end,
And some say hip hip hip hooray!

I think that this is a tragedy,
for mankind is the scourge of the earth,
the fact that our population’s soaring
is hardly a reason for mirth.

We devour the planet’s resources
and pollute the streams and the air
the oceans are full of our garbage;
truth be known we don’t care

Oh, we pretend to be concerned
about the damage we do to the earth
but as soon as the price increases
we scream blue murder, and worse.

We allow our leaders to stagger
from one treaty to the next
and as soon as things get a bit tricky
all good intentions are vexed.

Our numbers will increase further,
They say a billion a decade or more.
We’ll end up fighting for water
like we’ve fought for oil before.

What a sorry state of affairs it is,
that our numbers have soured so high
without learning to share resources
and cherish all under the sky.

John Carré Buchanan
31 October 2011

Half a Job

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Richard Bach made the following observation in his book Illusions;

“The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.”

In recent years I have found this idea to be most useful in surviving moments of depression but occasionally, I have found that it does not stimulate the same defensive thoughts and I am left asking myself a much more fundamental question.

Today has been one such day. I have been busier than normal and, having done too much, I am now suffering with both increased pain levels and depression.

I’ve been searching for an answer to the following ‘simple’ question; the problem is the answer is not simple. The question; What is the point of living when you spend most of your life racked in pain and unable to do almost everything you enjoy doing?

I have heard the standard answers, “luckier than others”, “loving family”, “I’m needed”, “almost, isn’t everything”, and “there is hope”….. but to be brutally honest when the chips are down and the spiral of doom is turning the wrong way these answers are not good enough.

I’m exhausted, frightened, angry, depressed and in agony. When our dogs were ill and in pain we made the difficult decision to put them down, the decision was born out of a very deep love for them and a deep desire to end their suffering. I wish with all my heart that our society was not so averse to offering humans the same dignity.

So if there is anyone out there who can answer the question please enlighten me. When you can’t live your life as your true self, what is the point of living?

The best I have come up with thus far is another Richard Bach quote;

“Here is a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished:
If you're alive, it isn't.”

My poem for today is based on a thought I have had almost every day since my accident;

Half a Job

I wish she’d done a better job,
the woman who hit me.
For if she’d done it properly,
I would not live in misery.

John Carré Buchanan
12 November 2010

Framed

Autumn is on its way and the garden is beginning to shut down. Soon leaves will start to turn orange and red. I am told that the weather this year has been unusually good for photosynthesis and as such many plants are carrying high levels of sugar. This means we are likely to see a particularly colourful autumn this year. Add to that, the fact that some plants have been tricked into flowering again by a last minute Indian summer, and it is a truly amazing time to be looking at what is happening in the garden.

A few months ago when I was working I remember rushing out to the car sticks in hand bag falling off shoulder and running into a web that a spider had spun across the archway. I remember cursing the spider as I removed silk from my face and then, having had a pang of guilt recriminating myself for destroying his/her web. I ended up concluding that it was a stupid place for a spider to put a web. I then threw everything into the car and rushed off to work.

A couple of weeks ago I was again leaving the house, this time considerably slower and less cluttered. This time I had time to stop and admire the spider's work before ducking under it and heading off. The image of the beautiful web hanging in the Jasmine framed archway around our front door stuck in my mind. It is now two weeks later and I can still see how the sun glinted on the web which was set off by the greens of the jasmine leaves.

That day I learnt a valuable lesson; When you rush through life you may occasionally notice things, particularly if they slap you in the face, but the memories of them are indistinct and fade, smothered by the adverse feelings associated with rushing. But if you take time to live each moment of your life at the speed at which it was designed to be lived at, you will notice more, remember more and enjoy your life more.

Who knows if you then take the time to write about it, you may even be able to share the moment with others and make a moment in time seem like an age.

Here is my poem; not as grand as the spiders web and not as beautiful as the Jasmine, but enough for me to share the moment. I hope you enjoy it;

Framed

Broken sun light shines through the jasmine
which wrecks the symmetry of the stone arch.

The jumble of green leaves and white flowers,
burst from the frame, as if to claim nature has no order.

Yet at the apex of the curve, the light hints -
as it glints through drops on a line, that this is not so.

Here in this space, of scented chaos
hangs a pure symmetry of silken thread.

Did the spider know when it wove its web
of nature’s plan to frame it?

John Carré Buchanan
16 September 2011