Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Knowing Me, Knowing No-One

by Katharine Budd

It’s hard to be known,
Known for your skills and feats,
When all the while they don’t know
What is the real you.
To be thought of as caring
When you take care of others;
To be considered sensitive
As you listen to tribulations;
To be cogitated as funny
But in a way that is unique to you;
To be calm as early morning waves
Instead of uptight and twitchy,
A cat on hot bricks singing its delicate paws;
To be shy whilst being confident,
A fear that most cannot fuse;
To be the sweetest person
Who knows what to say when you want it;
Chiefly, to be known as genuine,
A person who really cares
With a softness to love and live for.
But when that is passed by
With even barely a fleeting look,
How can we even know someone so well?
So we disappear freely,
Blending into obscurity
Ready to sit it out,
Wondering when the blanket will be lifted.

Added: 18.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

07.05.2011

True. I am judging you by this one work. I will never know if you and I could be friends - and we won't be, not in this blanketed society.

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