Beccy SST11 draft 2

29 May

Bit nervous about posting this. I rewrote the poem after Ioney’s  workshop on Friday and I’ve added a kind’ve weird script/monologue thing at the top because it’s just this idea I had to kind of make the poem part of that. Anyway, part of me thinks it’s massively pretentious and silly and I should just stick to doing a poem. If you agree please can you break it to me gently 😉 Other feedback I want is; does the poem work alone as well? Which do you prefer poem alone/poem as part of thing.

Approx running time 2-3 mins

To the frightened (What I know about outer space)

Two siblings in the back of a car.
Sibling 1 Makes rocket launching noises
Sibling 1: And we have lift off! And the Galaxy Voyager 95 sets its course for Mars —
Sib2: Saturn
Sib1: — sets its course for Mars…
Current me: I mean, now I know that even if you could be bothered to send a rocket that far, you couldn’t actually land it on Saturn – it’s all gas. But it looked kind of pink in the pictures and it had rings, so it was my favourite.
Sib1: And the voyager is getting higher and higher, due to reach Mars in two hours. But what’s this? The rocket passes through a meteor shower and has to make a series of sudden turns –
Sib2: Look! I can get us through them –

Sib1:  – disaster! An enourmous meteor hits the Voyager! It’s on fire! It’s plummeting!

Sib2: But we can save it!

Sib1: No, we can’t. You should have left the controls alone.


(Me on my own)  Space travel is scary. The idea of crashing all that way terrified me, but then, so did crashing in a train or a car… not a bike, though. I hurtled myself down all the biggest hills like I wasn’t afraid of falling off, which is good, because I frequently did. But, somewhere between the ages of five and twenty-five, the idea of falling has become unbearable.



You will graze your knees. The stinging is worth

the moment of flight, though. Seeing your earth

from space, while your brother grabs the controls

weaves through sharp meteors and black holes –

which you totally could have handled – you

realise you’re small. That you could plunge into

the dark matter soup and not be counted

or missed. Knowing your meteor showers are

your parents traffic jams and just-caught swear

words when someone cuts them up, could make you

give up, step away from the console. Don’t.

Graze your knees for the moment of flight. It

doesn’t have to get a hundred likes, or

win a nobel prize – these wings are yours.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: