Poésie - adolescents

Switch

It scares me that you think there is a switch in my head

Something I can just click to make me get out of bed

Something I can turn to to get of the floor

And something I can use to not care anymore

It would be a good idea to turn to your attention

That there is not yet such an invention

For a switch so grand is not yet created

Because I’ll tell you…

If there was such a switch I would clear out my head

If there was such a switch I would get out of bed

If there was such a switch I wouldn’t lye on the floor

And if there was such a switch I wouldn’t care anymore

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old - Tadley - England - Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 31, 2023

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Poverty

She walks into class a little late from her walk

The tiredness and fatigue making her hesitant to talk

With a pen in her blazer that she found on the floor

And another peeping out of the hole in her backpack that she found in the bits and bobs draw

Everyone knows her lunchbox is empty

And that she has to flip her vests inside out

But no one seems to hear the internal shout

As she reuses paper that she finds in the bin

And eats her meal a day dinner out of a tin

No one seems to want to help her as she dreams of a bed that isn’t a blanket on the floor

As she keeps her cries behind the bathroom stall doors

Spending her weekends at food banks or dog walking for money

Something all the other kids seem to find funny

And as time goes by the holes in her socks get bigger and bigger

Whilst her small pale frame becomes thinner and thinner

But all of the other kids just stop and stare

None of them having much care

They all know they’ll never be in the same spot

As there nice clean clothes and heated houses keep them nice and hot

Their happiness paid for by the cartoons they see on the screens

With none of them having to limit their dreams

So blissfully unaware of what the girl goes through day by day

As the curse of poverty makes her wither away

But one thing she clings into with an iron fist is her happiness

Something she isn’t willing to put towards bills or the weekly shop

But something she uses to get through the endless troubles that never seem to stop.

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old - Tadley - England - Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 26, 2023

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Different

How can we define what’s best

When we are all different from the rest

Why can’t we just look at what’s true

And appreciate the differences between me and you

When did it all become a competition

To live with these insecurities and superstitions

About what makes us beautiful and what makes us true

And about who has more than me and you

Who are we to define

What makes another person more fine

When we know we could never be the same

We only have society to blame

Megan-Hope Davis, 14 years old, Tadley, England -Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 23, 2023

(Voir la traduction française faite par Louise Gagné dans l'onglet: Différence - Différent)

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A math equation

I tried to solve equation once

It was an extreme fiddle

With four y’s two z’s and an x in the middle

I tried to solve an equation once

And boy was it difficult

With part of the equation asking me to find the reciprocal

I tried to solve and equation once

And I had to take a break

There were three additions and two divides I was sure it was a mistake

I tried to solve and equation once

And I swear it made no sense

After looking at the seven different zeros, I was feeling kind a dense

I tried to solve and equation once

And jeez did I give up

After seeing syntax error I was sure I was out of luck

I tried to solve and equation once

And it was not my kind of fun

I never did solve the equation but, I heard the clever kid yell ‘don’.

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old - Tadley - England - Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 22, 2023

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The dark covers the world

The dark covers the world like a blanket

Day turns to night

Shadows turn to moonlight

As the creeks and whispers of the trees collide

Just swinging

The day covers the work like a blanket

From moonlight to shadows

As creeks and whispers of trees turn into small talk and sunlight

Just a normal day

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old - Tadley - England -Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 22, 2023

(Voir la traduction française faite par Louise Gagné dans l'onglet: L'expérience - Une couverture)

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Words

If a word is a word then why does it hurt so bad

If a word is just a word then how come I feel so sad

If a word is just a word how come I’m broken on the floor

If a word was just a word there would be no conflict anymore

If a word was a person would they tower over me

If a word was a mirror would it shatter constantly

If a word was a day would it drag on and on

If a word was just a word would it communicate like a song

If a word brought happiness would it last the whole day

If a word brought woe would it follow me for the rest of the way

If a word brought anger would it control what I say

If a word brought pain would it shape me like clay

If a word is only a collection of letters then why do I give it such meaning

If a word is only a opinion then how can it define what I’m feeling

If a word is only a syllable or two then how can it pave the way

To how i look, think and feel about myself every single day

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old - Tadley - England -Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 22, 2023

(Voir la traduction française faite par Louise Gagné dans l'onglet: Les mots - Questions de mots)

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I am numb

Anything you do do me I can’t even feel anymore

Even if you poked and prodded me

Even if you tickled me and taunted me

I’d just sit there

Eyes wide open mouth shut

Whilst I feel it all in my gut

A feeling of pain and hurt

Wondering why my tears just can’t burst

Wanting to show my hurt and discover why I can’t deal with my demons inside me

As they hold my feelings in cages like prisoners of my own design

for once I just want my feelings to be mine

As I sit there wanting to scream and shout and let it all out but I can’t

So instead I just sit there numb day after day wishing the endless pain would go away

Watching my own life unravel from a window that’s dark and gloomy

Whilst peoples hurtful words cut right through me

I am numb

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old - Tadley - England - Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on January 15, 2023 - (Voir la traduction française faite par Louise Gagné dans l'onglet: Les pleurs - Je suis engourdie)

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If I

If I wrote a letter to my younger self would I ask me what I was thinking

As I sit here in my teenage years feeling like I’m sinking

Would I sit there and reminisce about all those good old times

Where I could run around in old stained clothes and colour outside the lines

If I wrote a letter to my younger self would I sent me some kind of warning

As I sit here sleepless and all depressed constantly crying and yawning

Would I tell little me that it wouldn’t work out or would I tell me it’s all okay

And simply let my younger self let the golden years slip away

If I wrote a letter to my younger self would I tell myself that older me isn’t the same

As I sit here throughout years of constant teenage pain

Would I tell little me that i miss the days when I didn’t have to worry

And simply reminisce about the days when I didn’t care about the calories in a Mac flurry

If I wrote a letter to my younger self would I be able to lie to the little me

Knowing that the person sitting here now no longer has the same identity

Would I tell little me that I thought she was really cool

Before the years of teenage culture came along to take it all

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Just because

Just because I don’t feel it anymore doesn’t mean it’s not there

Maybe I’ve just learned to live with it and act like I just don’t care

Maybe it just follows me now like a shadow now

Invisible during the day but by night it come back to haunt me

As I sit alone in my room alone with all of these dangerous thoughts coming back to taunt me

Can it really ever just go away or is it now embedded in my skin

A raging feeling of hurt and self-pity coming from within

And if I told anyone about it would they even care

To talk to me about a situation that looks like it’s not even there

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Poem

I don’t really know how to write a poem

How are all the words supposed to rhyme

I mean how am I supposed to convey a message in these short simple lines

Do I even add punctuation in or do I just ignore it

Or do I need to add in some great symbolic meaning so that you can explore it

Does this poem need to be serious or is it just for fun

And how do I even know when this poem is supposed to be done

Does it need a catchy title or my name signed at the bottom

Or do I just leave it the way it is and pretend like all is forgotten

This poem getting a bit long now so I think I’ll just stop here

I’m still not really sure how to write a poem below here

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What would…

A young soldier died just yesterday

Over in the trenches not far away

As he stood there proud in his uniform

Ready to head into the eye of the storm

A young boy died just yesterday

Over on the high street not far away

As he stood there scared in his uniform

Ready to head into the eye of the storm

A older boy walked down the trenches yesterday

He was supposed to be a mentor who would lead the way

But when the sirens and the smoke arrived

The older boy just ran to hide

A older boy walked down the high street yesterday

As all of the younger kids looked his way

He told them he was someone who understood

And they eagerly followed not knowing what would…

Megan-Hope Davis - 14 years old -Tadley - England - Text send by Louise Gagné - grandmother of Megan-Hope Davis on November 12, 2022 - (Voir la traduction française faite par Louise Gagné dans l'onglet: La mort)

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