By Stanley Collymore
You keep touching me like no other man has ever touched
me before and young and sexually inexperienced though
I might be I’m even so well aware that what you’re
doing is really all about you and most definitely
not about me; and if you don’t stop doing it
immediately I shall be obliged to call the
police; but then maybe not, for their bosses will
only cover it up: paedophilia protectors and
even practitioners themselves you see.
So instead I shall self-defensively,
as is my right, kick you with
all my might where it truly
hurts – smack bang in
the middle of your
very soon to be
© Stanley V. Collymore
6 October 2015.
A young lady I met while travelling on a bus in the Southeast of England and who had sat next to and was on her way home from the college she attended noticing how engrossed I was at the time with my notepad which I always carry with me and the writing I was quite earnestly undertaking, obviously out of general curiosity first politely apologized and then asked me what I was doing; was I a teacher, a writer or a journalist? I smiled and told her I was all three of these. A conversation ensued and I explained that I was writing a poem. As it happened I had with me a few copies of previously written poems that I’d collected from the printing firm where I professionally have my personalized poems and posters done. As she was interested in seeing them I showed them to her.
She evidently liked them and asked what subject I taught. I told her and she said English was also her favourite subject, that she wanted to go on to university and hoped to major in it. Understandably I congratulated her on her sensible choice. She laughed and as our journey continued we built up a natural rapport with each other. Twenty minutes later we said a warm goodbye to each other as she prepared to get off at her stop while I continued on my journey home.
As fate would have it we ran into each other again but this time she was with a group of her friends who she introduced me to. As our encounter took place in the town centre this time we all of us mutually agreed to go to a coffee shop and socialize there. Quite an interesting and entertaining occasion it turned out to be too, leaving us all in stitches of laughter. And it was from one of the young ladies present and who cheerfully and voluntarily relayed her story that this poem I’ve now written was given birth to. She also said that she didn’t mind in the least my turning it into a poem and the others likewise agreed.
This group consist of a superb bunch of lads and lasses who’ve clearly got their heads screwed on the right way; and with me, at their unanimous request conjoined with their parents’ specific permission, I’m now acting as their informal “teacher”, assessing their academic work and making constructive suggestions wherever appropriate both face to face when we meet up but more often than not online when I’m out of the country. Politically they’re also energized but I shan’t say for which party or political leader as this is not a commercial (smile). Suffice to say though their choices in both instances are spot on with mine!