and a poet

The Killing Field

September 17, 2023

This is the killing field,
But the danger does not come to you or me
From the piercing horn of a bull’s rush,
The digoxin punch of a fox’s glove,
Or a saliva-damp kiss from a cow’s lip.

This is the killing field,
But the danger does not come to you or me
From the aconitine grip of the wolf’s bane,
The spicular burn from a nettle’s leaf,
Or a sudden unexpected stroke of a pony’s tail.

This is the killing field,
And just for once, the danger does not even come
From those who strip the land to build and burn,
Who work the soil to plant and grow,
Who take whatever they wish to take,
Who go wherever they wish to go.

This is the killing field,
But the danger does not come to you or me.
It comes to the little creatures that scuttle and slither over ground,
Or paddle at the water’s edge,
Or take flight into the humid air,
Or hide away within the sedge.
For they refused to yield
To kiss the ground before the wise birds’ shrieks,
And so were baited by the raptors’ curse.

This is the killing field,
But the danger does not come to you or me.
It comes to the mouse, the rabbit and the vole,
Not fast enough to find a hole,
The beetle, grub and dragonfly,
Left with no escape to try,
The snake, the newt, the toad, the frog,
Too slow to get beneath a log,
And the pigeon, finch and moorhen chick,
This time, insufficiently quick.

This is the killing field,
And for all the little creatures that you love,
Death comes unheralded from far above.

First comes
Buteo buteo (Buzzard):
Mightiest of all,
Soaring high in thermal plumes,
Before swooping down,
To grasp in taloned feet
The unfortunate prey it must consume.

Then comes
Circus aeruginosus (Marsh Harrier):
Not far behind in stature and power,
Ranging low,
With undulating flight,
Before entering the reed bed,
To pluck out
The tiny creatures hiding there in fright.

But not all threats require wings of such size, for now come
Falco tinnunculus (Kestrel):
Fast wings,
Steady hover,
Sharp eyes,
Before falling like a stone,
To pounce
With great surprise

And
Falco subbuteo (Hobby):
Wings swept,
Swift flier,
Thrilling chase,
Before making the snatch,
To prove
That it has won the race.

An optimist might think
That the setting of the sun
And the falling of the dark
Could bring respite.
But this is the killing field,
And the danger comes both day and night.

For now, in fading light, comes
Tyro alba (Barn Owl):
Heavy flaps,
Ghostly glide,
A pause upon a post,
Before the sudden drop,
To make the surprise visit
To its host.

Then, as darkness gathers like a cloak, comes
Athene noctua (Little Owl):
Sitting,
Watching from a lofty perch,
Shattering the silence with its screech,
Before flying down,
To snaffle up
Whatever it can reach.

And finally, with all light gone, comes
Strix aluco (Tawny Owl):
Master of the dark,
Night vision goggled,
Waiting patiently with hunting ears,
Before pouncing,
Silently,
On each and every morsel of a meal it hears.

This is the killing field,
But the danger does not come to you or me.
The danger comes from far above,
From birds named with gladiatorial sounding words:
Buteo buteo and Circus aeruginosus:
Majestic Buzzard and Marsh Harrier
Falcos tinnunculus and Subbuteo:
Agile Kestrel and Hobby,
Tyro alba, Athene noctua and Strix aluco:
Barn, Little, Tawny - the three wise owls.

This is the killing field,
And the danger comes with such beauty and grace,
That seeing Death has never before
Put such a smile upon my face.

Reed Beds at Redgrave and Lopham Fen – The Killing Field

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About this poem: While staying in Suffolk during the second week of our summer holiday we walked around Redgrave and Lopham Fen one afternoon. Having seen various birds but not being entirely sure that I had been able to identify them all correctly I made sure that we went back for a second look and I was really thrilled to confirm my first ever sightings of a Marsh Harrier and a Hobby along with the oft-seen Buzzard and Kestrel. These are all beautiful birds and it was fascinating to watch their different flight patterns and to look up information about their diets and hunting styles. But it struck me quite forcibly that with that beauty and guile came death and the idea that the area around the fen was a ‘Killing Field’ took root in my head. During our stay we also heard or were told of the whereabouts of several different species of owls – the evening and night hunters – and so I threw those into the mix too.

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The Lies of the Land

September 16, 2023

Poems

There’s a hill marked on the map and so we will have to climb up,
And we follow the river along the valley so then we’ll be quite far down.
Let me see, there should be a church tower - yes, on the horizon, over there,
And that means that our path will go right then left twice and then another turn right.
Next to the fen marsh it will probably be a bit wet,
But the stretch along the beach should be sandy and dry.
That’s the car park, just in front, so…
Where’s the windmill? Behind us, out of sight.

It is helpful to be able to orientate yourself in time and space,
And a comfort to know that everything stands in order and has its rightful place,
Because, believe me, there is a problem if you don’t know which way you should face.
I think I’m pretty good at this so let me help you understand,
Left, right, up, down, in front, behind, parched or drowned,
The truth is that you must get to know the lie of the land.

No…sorry…wait…it’s not quite that simple…
That hill I mentioned is only five metres above sea level, it’s so low down that it can hardly be called a hill – it’s little more than a pimple.
The water in the river flows further down towards the shore, which means that the valley is actually up above the sea.
When we reach the church tower, it won’t be over there, it will be our here. Obviously.
And when we follow the path back, we will take a left, a right and after that we’ll go right then left again.
But it shouldn’t be too confusing because we’ll be on familiar ground by then.

This isn’t what I was expecting from the map on the visitor centre wall.
I guess there’s been so little rain recently that the marsh is bone dry, and there’s hardly any water in the drainage channels at all.
The tide must be on its way out, because there are shells and seaweed all along the shore and so the sand is salty wet.
Anyway, it’s been nice since we got away from the car park. I was pleased to leave that behind, all those cars and people made me fret.
So…Where is the windmill? Have patience, don’t get stressed…
Wait for it… ready? There, right in front. Are you are impressed?

It would be helpful if I could orientate myself in time and space,
And comforting if everything would actually get in order and into its rightful place.
Because, I definitely have problem when I don’t know which way I should face.
I thought I was pretty good at this but now things are getting out of hand.
Left, right, up, down, in front, behind, parched or drowned,
I’ve really been made a fool of here by the lies of the land.

(c) Tim O’Hare

About this poem: While staying in the Norfolk Broads during our summer holiday we drove out to the coast for a walk at Horsey Gap, parking the car near Horsey Windmill. On the way there I had been amused to notice that features that were named on the map as hills were, in fact, only a few meters above sea level and the idea that such naming was a ‘lie of the land’ was born. The poem picks up on various elements of the walk which took in fenland marsh, a beach (with seals swimming in the surf) and, of course, the windmill.

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I Am Not Lost

September 16, 2023

Poems

I’m just back in from my morning run.
Before I left she asked me how far I was planning to go,
And I replied: “Only about 3 miles, maybe thirty minutes or so”.
I showed her my intended route on the map,
So that in an emergency she could find me in a hurry.

As soon as I was outside, my mind was transported.
There were poppies and other wildflowers in the hay fields, faces turned to greet the morning sun.
I ran through swathes of wheat and barley waving in the breeze,
Reed beds down by the fen and woods with birds singing merrily in the trees.

But I had been far too optimistic and so I found I made several false turns,
Finding my way blocked, not wanting to squeeze my way through tick-infested ferns.
At one point I had to whisper my way past a group of young cattle
That barred my path, even nibbling at my shorts and, fortunately, that encounter did not end up as a battle.

Some people might laugh at my incompetence, but I have to disagree, because:

I was not lost,
Although I will reluctantly admit that I did not know exactly where I was.
But I don’t think it really mattered that I wasn’t quite where I’d expected myself to be.

Anyway, I’m back now,
And as soon as I came through the door I said “sorry”, because I didn’t want the atmosphere to sour.
You see, I had run five-point-four miles and been out for almost an hour,
And although she didn’t say anything, if past form is anything to go by,
I expect that she had started to worry.

My run gave me a chance to think, and realise that, even though things didn’t go entirely to plan:

I am not lost.
In fact I happily accept that I do not know exactly where I am,
Because it really doesn’t matter that I am not where I expect myself to be.

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About this poem: We moved base for the second week of our summer holiday and after a few less than successful days in Horning in the Norfolk Broads we moved to the village of Redgrave in Suffolk and I instantly relaxed and was happy with walks and runs from the doorstep. For my first morning run there I decided to do a loop of Redgrave and Lopham Fen, memorised a route (or at least thought I had memorised a route) and set out. It was a very enjoyable run but, predictably, I dropped off my planned route and had to use my instinct to find my way back to our accommodation running further and taking a fair bit longer than I had planned. I was not exactly lost, but I did not know exactly where I was and as I was running those words began to play in my mind and the seeds of the poem were sown.

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Problem Shared

September 16, 2023

Poems

A problem shared is a problem halved, or so the saying goes,
But whether that is really true is debatable I suppose.

My problem had been hidden deep inside until you called it by its name,
And that was like the whistle, blown to start the game.

The problem that was diagnosed affected how I lived,
It stopped me getting on with things, it made my brain a sieve.

This problem that you helped me with is tricky to unpack,
It means my brain keeps worrying; I never can relax.

The problem I am grappling with is not a sickness I contracted,
Rather it’s part of me, so always I’m distracted.

The problem you explored with me in many ways defies convention,
It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t control my attention.

The problem that I shared with you for years has had me troubled,
And to be honest since you got involved its size has more than doubled.

It isn’t that you didn’t help because certainly you did,
It’s just that now I’m in the game; you’ve helped me lift the lid.

The problem that was inside me has now come bursting out,
And now I want to dance and sing and jump and scream and even shout!

My problem shared it hasn’t halved or reduced in size at all,
But now we’ve torn down all the bricks it’s no longer a wall.

So although my problem may have multiplied by three or four or five,
Truly I give thanks because you’ve helped me come alive.

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About this poem: My diagnosis of ADHD in summer 2022 was completed through a private provider called ‘Problem Shared’ and for about 9 months in late 2022 and the first half of 2023 I had roughly monthly online sessions with a prescribing nurse. These conversations were always very enjoyable (for both of us I think) and helped me to unpack some of the challenges I was experiencing and to express my thoughts and ideas on tackling those challenges and on ADHD more generally. The poem was not intended to relate only to my interactions with the ‘Problem Shared’ organisation but used the name as a starting point. It captures the idea that whilst my diagnosis and subsequent treatment has certainly made things generally a lot better it has also opened up all kinds of additional issues and challenges.

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Build A Second Brain

September 16, 2023

Poems

Build a Second Brain they said:
It will help you stay on top of your life.
It will help you manage your personal knowledge,
And keep you from informational overload strife.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It will definitely be something you’ll want to pass on.
It even comes with a fancy name,
It will be what they call a Zettelkasten.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It will be much more useful than note-taking.
It will help you organise all kinds of content,
While developing your skills in note-making.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It will help you make connections.
It will join up all of your different ideas,
Rather than keeping them separate in sections.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It’ll stop your mind being like a sieve.
It’ll help you solve problems and find new solutions,
By helping you be more creative.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It will allow you to keep track of all your tasks.
It will help when you’re not quite sure what to do,
And not say ‘yes’ when ‘no’ is the best response if anyone asks.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It will lead to all kinds of digital high-jinks.
It will make you think about graphs and blocks,
And connect up your notes with links.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It does not matter which software you use.
It won’t eat up hours and hours of your time,
As you try out each one and can’t choose.

Build a Second Brain they said:
It really will be loads of fun.
It will give you so much more mental bandwidth,
Than you have with just brain number one.

Build a Second Brain they said:
But I am really not sure.
I’ve enough problems working the brain that I’ve got,
That I doubt I could cope with one more!

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About the poem: I had been reading a lot about an area that is known as ‘Personal Knowledge Management’ (PKM) which is based on an older system of keeping discrete notes on index cards in slip boxes (in German this is called a ‘Zettelkasten’). One recent book on the topic has popularised the idea of a PKM-system as being like a ‘Second Brain’ and all kinds of claims are made about the usefulness of building a Second Brain for information storage and retrieval, creativity, task management etc. Me being me I threw myself into building my own digital second brain and then (also me being me) I became a bit obsessed with making it perfect, consistent, all-encompassing etc. It rather took over my life for a bit.

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King Heron

September 16, 2023

Poems

I spied you threading your way up the narrow ghyll,
Just down there where the waters tumble over rocks on their long route down to the sea.
I watched you picking your way along the stoney path,
Stopping to rest awhile under the shade of that old, wizened tree.
I sensed that with each step of climb, up, up, onto the high moor,
Your mind opened like the land and all of your thoughts broke free.
I was amused to observe you pause now and then, looking about to take in the sights,
Knowing that you had not yet seen me.

You think this land belongs to you,
Your thoughts confirmed by the remnant workings and heaps of spoil the miners left behind.
You see evidence all around, backed up by the words on the pages of your guide,
That this remote corner of the world is here for humankind.
You sense that there are creatures here and rue the fact that they hide from view,
Wishing they’d show themselves so that you can tick them off the list you carry deep inside your mind.
You imagine how it must have been to dig into this land, with the dust, the noise, the aching limbs,
To bring out the ore enriched with the heaviest metal one can find.

And then, at last, you catch sight of me as I stand waiting patiently beside the stream.
I thought you’d never notice, so deeply did you dream.
You stop and, stretching out one arm, guide your companion’s sight,
You speak in hushed voices, moving slowly so as not to create fright.

I shift my weight a little and turn my head to best present myself to you,
For there have been many others who have stopped to see this profile view.
And trust me, I know what to do.

Stick-like legs, beneath my plump grey body, surprisingly large when seen close by,
Arching neck, dagger bill, the crown of feathers that adorns my head,
all of this can make you sigh.
And, of course, I know only too well, that what you really want is to see me fly.

So, I rouse myself fully, unfurl my mighty wings
And with three swift beats I am up and away,
Hammering the air as I move along the stream until,
Tantalisingly out of sight, I find another spot to stay.

Twice more I lead you on our little dance.
I fly upstream and you advance.

You are thinking that there must be only meagre pickings in such a small and insignificant stream as this,
And that to sustain so large a body I must have to spend an age to find a useful meal from tiny fish,
And that to live here as I do must be so hard and pose a lot of risk,
But there are things that you don’t realise, sights that you have missed.

This is the miners’ land no more, and you are only passing through,
And things are not exactly as they seem,
For the land you see around you, all the hills, the rocks, the fields, the walls,
And each and every one of the countless little streams,
Has a mighty ruler who has chosen to be at its helm,
And you, my passing admirer?
You are welcome in my realm.

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About this poem: This poem was inspired by the sights experienced and thoughts that occurred during a wonderful walk while on our summer holiday in Ilkley, Yorkshire. The route took us along the valley of the River Wharfe and then north for lunch at The Old School Tearoom [highly recommended] in the village of Hebden. From there we slowly made our way up Hebden Ghyll, a narrow valley that was once the location for extensive lead-mining activities. As the terrain opened up to the expansive higher moorland I saw a heron standing at the side of the small stream than ran down the ghyll. We stood and watched it for a few moments and I commented that with the stream being so narrow it must offer slim pickings and that it must be hard for such a large bird to sustain itself there. Then, of course, the heron did what herons always do…

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Home

September 15, 2023

Poems

I don’t know if it is the air:
Clean and fresh like an ice-cold beer, bubbles rising, condensation on the glass,
Enough to quench the fiercest thirst;
Because sometimes…
It’s more like warm flat ale, the dregs of a barrel,
Forced down, because it cannot possibly go to waste.

Maybe it’s the trees:
Aged beings, firm trunks, twisting branches, rustling leaves,
All kinds of greens - magic matter drawn from thin air;
Although sometimes…
I am not so keen, when a dipping twig catches me in the eye,
Or a gnarly root sends me sprawling to the ground.

Perhaps it is the quiet:
Only the soft, gentle, companion sounds to the peacefulness of nature’s play,
The babbling of a stream, the stir of swaying grass, the lowing of distant beasts;
Although sometimes…
The incessant cawing racket of jackdaws, batters my ears and interrupts my calm,
Far more acutely than the hum of traffic or the playground shrieks of children.

It can also be the smells:
Sweet fragrances of flowers, fresh cut hay, that first exhalation of dry soil after a sorely-needed drink of rain;
Although sometimes…
There are certain emanations, animal and vegetable that have me rushing to hold my nose.

I wonder whether it is the sky:
Deep blue, adorned with a constantly changing dance of clouds,
Then fading to burning orange before the deepest black be-jewelled with silver stars;
But sometimes…
Such vastness can be far too much,
For this brain to consume in one sitting.

It’s definitely the route:
Words in the book, lines upon the map, places to stop for a view,
A little piece of history, a drink and a big piece of cake;
Although sometimes…
The wrong words have been used, those lines have simply not been drawn in the right places,
And the much-anticipated tea shop is closed, just because it is Wednesday.

It’s tempting to think it is the solitude:
Just me and the hills and the trees and the birds and… and… and…
Although, if I am really honest, I will admit that sometimes…
That can also be a state of loneliness.

In any case, it’s certainly also the companionship:
Sauntering along, side-by-side, ahead, behind,
Talking about the world around us, solving problems, making plans;
Although sometimes…
You just will not walk at the right speed and yes, I do know that I drive you crazy
Every time I stop to listen out for birds or to take one more arty snap with the app or the camera on my phone.

I think it could simply be the scale of it:
Always as far as the eye can see (and then beyond into the land of imagination),
Stretching back through an infinitude of whens and forward into yet more thens;
Although sometimes,
As truly awe-inspiring as that can be to consider,
I’m reminded that really there is only here and now.

So it seems to be the all of it:
Air, trees, quiet, smells, sky, route, solitude, companionship, scale and more, a little piece of all of the everything that has ever been,
Regardless of whether I, and all the others just like me, am here to do my worst whilst all the time I try to do my best.
Because we can build things, shape things, sell things and waste things,
But when I take a walk outside, away from all the stuff,
And when I allow myself to forget what I think I am, just for a moment,
Well then I am home.

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

About this poem: Our summer holidays tend to be based around walking in nature and I always find that this activity helps my brain to slow down and provides a great source of nourishment for my thinking. During the process of writing ‘Home’ I reflected on what it is that makes walking in nature such an important and grounding activity for me and as I ran through various possibilities and found counter-arguments for each one I came to realise that there is no single magic ingredient – it was simply that walking in nature was where I felt most at home.

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Todo List

September 15, 2023

Poems

PAST

OVERDUE:
[ ]   all the tasks that I said yes to when I ought to have said no
[ ]   all the calls I need to follow-up so their businesses can grow
[ ]   all the projects I took upon myself so that I could people please
[ ]   all the projects I need to do to put myself at ease
[ ]   all the urgent emails that I know I should have sent
[ ]   all the bookings that I should have made ahead of the event
[ ]   all those things that no one cares about but I think are a must
[ ]   all those gadgets that need mending before they fully bust
[ ]   all the delegated tasks from others resulting from their lack of time
[ ]   all the things I think I should do so they think I’m fine
[ ]   all the action points from meetings that I think were flagged for me
[ ]   all the edits to the documents that I know you need to see

OTHER:
[ ]   more tasks that I said yes to when I wanted to say no
[ ]   more calls I’d like to follow-up to help my business grow
[ ]   more projects I have taken on so I can people please
[ ]   more projects that I want to do to put myself at ease
[ ]   more emails that I know that it would help for me to send
[ ]   more plans that I could make for upcoming events
[ ]   more things that no one cares about but I think are a must
[ ]   more gadgets that need maintenance to stop them going bust
[ ]   more delegated tasks from others resulting from their lack of time
[ ]   more things I’d like to finish (only then will I feel fine)
[ ]   more action points from meetings that I let them flag to me
[ ]   more edits to the documents that I’d like you to see

SOMEDAY/MAYBE:
[ ]   try to make some art
[ ]   try to pause a while
[ ]   try to take time for myself
[ ]   try to have fun
[ ]   try to meet up with a friend
[ ]   try to smile
[ ]   try to laugh
[ ]   try to simply do the things I want
[ ]   try to quench my thirst
[ ]   try to look after my brain
[ ]   try to use a different font
[ ]   try to listen to my heart
[ ]   try to sit in the sun
[ ]   try to soak up the rain
[ ]   try to read the books that are piled upon the shelf
[ ]   try to have a nice relaxing bath
[ ]   try to ‘pay myself first’
[ ]   try to ignore the latest trend

WAITING FOR:
[ ]   the perfect time
[ ]   the stars to align
[ ]   the mists to clear
[ ]   the loss of fear
[ ]   all of the pieces to fall into place
[ ]   and, of course, the ideal space
[ ]   the feeling that it’s right
[ ]   and for my chest to feel less tight
[ ]   a decent night’s sleep
[ ]   the bravery to take a leap
[ ]   something to drink, and some food
[ ]   the right mood

TODO TODAY:
[ ]   put a cross in the unchecked boxes and strike-through all the words in the following lists:
.......[ ]   WAITING FOR
.......[ ]   OTHER
.......[ ]   OVERDUE
[ ]   wherever they appear in the SOMEDAY/MAYBE list strike-through the words: ‘try to’
[ ]   start a new list with the title ‘TODO (RECURRING - EVERY DAY)’
[ ]   add the unchecked tasks from SOMEDAY/MAYBE in a pleasing way
[ ]   tear up all of the old lists and throw them right away

PRESENT

OVERDUE:
[x]   all the tasks that I said yes to when I ought to have said no
[x]   all the calls I need to follow-up so their businesses can grow
[x]   all the projects I took upon myself so that I could people please
[x]   all the projects I need to do to put myself at ease
[x]   all the urgent emails that I know I should have sent
[x]   all the bookings that I should have made ahead of the event
[x]   all those things that no one cares about but I think are a must
[x]   all those gadgets that need mending before they fully bust
[x]   all the delegated tasks from others resulting from their lack of time
[x]   all the things I think I should do so they think I’m fine
[x]   all the action points from meetings that I think were flagged for me
[x]   all the edits to the documents that I know you need to see

OTHER:
[x]   more tasks that I said yes to when I wanted to say no
[x]   more calls I’d like to follow-up to help my business grow
[x]   more projects I have taken on so I can people please
[x]   more projects that I want to do to put myself at ease
[x]   more emails that I know that it would help for me to send
[x]   more plans that I could make for upcoming events
[x]   more things that no one cares about but I think are a must
[x]   more gadgets that need maintenance to stop them going bust
[x]   more delegated tasks from others resulting from their lack of time
[x]   more things I’d like to finish (only then will I feel fine)
[x]   more action points from meetings that I let them flag to me
[x]   more edits to the documents that I’d like you to see

SOMEDAY/MAYBE:
[ ]   try to make some art
[ ]   try to pause a while
[ ]   try to take time for myself
[ ]   try to have fun
[ ]   try to meet up with a friend
[ ]   try to smile
[ ]   try tolaugh
[ ]   try to simply do the things I want
[ ]   try to quench my thirst
[ ]   try to look after my brain
[ ]   try to use a different font
[ ]   try to listen to my heart
[ ]   try to sit in the sun
[ ]   try to soak up the rain
[ ]   try to read the books that are piled upon the shelf
[ ]   try to have a nice relaxing bath
[ ]   try to ‘pay myself first’
[ ]  try to ignore the latest trend

WAITING FOR:
[x]   the perfect time
[x]   the stars to align
[x]   the mists to clear
[x]   the loss of fear
[x]   all of the pieces to fall into place
[x]   and, of course, the ideal space
[x]   the feeling that it’s right
[x]   and for my chest to feel less tight
[x]   a decent night’s sleep
[x]   the bravery to take a leap
[x]   something to drink, and some food
[x]   the right mood

TODO TODAY:
[x]   put a tick in the unchecked boxes and strike-through all the words in the following lists:
.......[x]   WAITING FOR
.......[x]   OTHER
.......[x]   OVERDUE
[x]   wherever they appear in the SOMEDAY/MAYBE list strike-through the words: ‘try to’
[x]   start a new list with the title ‘TODO (RECURRING - EVERY DAY)’
[x]   add the unchecked tasks from SOMEDAY/MAYBE in a pleasing way
[x]   tear up all of the old lists and throw them right away

FUTURE

TODO (RECURRING - EVERY DAY):
[ ]   quench my thirst
[ ]   ‘pay myself first’
[ ]   read the books that are piled upon the shelf
[ ]   take time for myself
[ ]   soak up the rain
[ ]   look after my brain
[ ]   make some art
[ ]   listen to my heart
[ ]   sit in the sun
[ ]   have fun
[ ]   have a nice relaxing bath
[ ]   laugh
[ ]   pause a while
[ ]   smile
[ ]   ignore the latest trend
[ ]   meet up with a friend
[ ]   use a different font
[ ]   simply do the things I want

(c) Tim O’Hare, June 2023

About this poem: I’ve been something of a ‘productivity geek’ for quite a few years using various systems of lists to track what I need to do (or think I need to do). Much of this tracking behaviour is built on a very well-known system known as ‘Getting Things Done’ (GTD) from a book with the same name by the author David Allen. This uses lists for things To Do, things that you are Waiting For, things you might do Someday and/or Maybe etc. Recently, I’ve been trying to relax my use of such systems, especially as I have realised that tracking everything in this way also feeds some of my obsessive collecting and perfectionist behaviours and supports my ‘people pleasing’ tendency. Todo List tries to capture a way out of this pattern of thinking, turning the controlling power of a Todo List into a weapon to destroy the worst aspects of the behaviour such lists can engender.

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Untitled, 1990?

September 14, 2023

Poems

(c) Tim O’Hare

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Does It Matter?

September 14, 2023

Poems

Does it matter what they’re thinking?
Does it matter what they think of what I say?
Does it matter if I do what they’re expecting?
Does it matter if I do it anyway?

Does it matter if I play the game they choose?
Does it matter if they think that I’m a fool?
Does it matter if I win or if I lose?
Does it matter if I play by different rules?

Does it matter if I do it when I should do?
Does it matter if I go at my own pace?
Does it matter if I keep myself beside you?
Does it matter if I run a different race?

Does it matter if I wear a different colour?
Does it matter if I my hair’s a little long?
Does it matter if I like things to be quieter?
Does it matter if I break out into song?

Does it matter if I go across the bridge?
Does it matter if I’m in a different land?
Does it matter if I speak a different language?
Does it matter if I’m hard to understand?

Does it matter if I go to different places?
Does it matter if I seem a little weird?
Does it matter if I once wore rainbow laces?
Does it matter if I’m nothing to be feared?

Does it matter what they’re thinking?
Does it matter what they think of what I say?
Does it matter if I do what they’re expecting?
I think I’ll do it anyway.

(c) Tim O’Hare, June 2023

About this poem: I had read an article about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria and how this can lead to ‘people pleasing’ behaviour, something that I tend to adopt strongly. ‘Does It Matter?’ tries to capture aspects of the internal struggle that works its way through my head on a near continuous basis and also provides a form of written antidote that reminds me that I do not have to do what I think is expected of me or behave in the ways that I think I am expected to behave or only do things once I have received some form of external confirmation that they are worthwhile or valid things to do.

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