stdClass Object
(
[ID] => 18757
[post_author] => 18
[post_date] => 2018-03-12 13:49:21
[post_date_gmt] => 2018-03-12 13:49:21
[post_content] => stands in front of me
head bowed very concentratedly
rolling and unrolling my sleeve
I stand very still
I don’t want to disturb him
I want to carry on standing like this
for as long as he is engaged in this
I can see that this is something he needs to do
and that I am more than happy
to be part of that need
We are two people
standing in the middle of a room
rolling and unrolling a need
Nobby falls like a small rotted stump
slowly sideways
It is a gentle not unhappy thud
on the dark carpet
of mulch and leaves and needles and loam
It is forgiving ground
where Nobby lies on his side alone
There’s a moment of pure unnoticing
where everything appears to be in its place
Nobby on the floor with his smiling face
The world opens out or shuts down
(which is it, which is it)
[post_title] => A man called Harold
[post_excerpt] =>
[post_status] => publish
[comment_status] => closed
[ping_status] => closed
[post_password] =>
[post_name] => a-man-called-harold
[to_ping] =>
[pinged] =>
[post_modified] => 2018-04-13 14:38:36
[post_modified_gmt] => 2018-04-13 14:38:36
[post_content_filtered] =>
[post_parent] => 0
[guid] => http://poems.poetrysociety.org.uk/?post_type=poems&p=18757
[menu_order] => 0
[post_type] => poems
[post_mime_type] =>
[comment_count] => 0
[filter] => raw
[meta_data] => stdClass Object
(
[wpcf-published-in] => This poem is an extract from Who's There, an audio piece for BBC radio.
[wpcf-date-published] => 2017
[wpcf-summary-description] => Who's There is a radio piece tackling the topic of dementia through an interweave of word, sound and music that was broadcast on BBC Radio 4’s Echo Chamber. From the judges: “It’s a piece that offers no judgement and no (illusory) hope: it simply presents, with courage and cleanliness, an aspect of contemporary life that’s pretty hard to take.” You can listen to Who's There in full on Soundcloud.
[wpcf-rights-information] =>
[wpcf-poem-award] => 2017 Ted Hughes Award Shortlist
[wpcf_pr_belongs] =>
)
[poet_data] => stdClass Object
(
[ID] => 18758
[forename] =>
[surname] =>
[title] => Greta Stoddart
[slug] => greta-stoddart
[content] => Greta Stoddart was born in Oxfordshire in 1966. Her first collection At Home in the Dark (Anvil) was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection and won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize in 2002. Her second book, Salvation Jane (Anvil), was shortlisted for the Costa Book Award 2008. She was also shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best Individual Poem in 2012. Her third book, Alive Alive O (Bloodaxe, 2015), was shortlisted for the Roehampton Poetry Prize 2016. Her radio poem Who’s There? was broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in 2017 and was BBC Pick of the Week. She lives in Devon and teaches for the Poetry School and the Arvon Foundation.
)
)
stdClass Object
(
[ID] => 18758
[forename] =>
[surname] =>
[title] => Greta Stoddart
[slug] => greta-stoddart
[content] => Greta Stoddart was born in Oxfordshire in 1966. Her first collection At Home in the Dark (Anvil) was shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best First Collection and won the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize in 2002. Her second book, Salvation Jane (Anvil), was shortlisted for the Costa Book Award 2008. She was also shortlisted for the Forward Prize for Best Individual Poem in 2012. Her third book, Alive Alive O (Bloodaxe, 2015), was shortlisted for the Roehampton Poetry Prize 2016. Her radio poem Who’s There? was broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in 2017 and was BBC Pick of the Week. She lives in Devon and teaches for the Poetry School and the Arvon Foundation.
)
stands in front of me
head bowed very concentratedly
rolling and unrolling my sleeve
I stand very still
I don’t want to disturb him
I want to carry on standing like this
for as long as he is engaged in this
I can see that this is something he needs to do
and that I am more than happy
to be part of that need
We are two people
standing in the middle of a room
rolling and unrolling a need
Nobby falls like a small rotted stump
slowly sideways
It is a gentle not unhappy thud
on the dark carpet
of mulch and leaves and needles and loam
It is forgiving ground
where Nobby lies on his side alone
There’s a moment of pure unnoticing
where everything appears to be in its place
Nobby on the floor with his smiling face
The world opens out or shuts down
(which is it, which is it)