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Hannah Dickinson

Hannah Dickinson

Email: hbpencil28@hotmail.co.uk

Total Article : 102

About Me:I'm currently studying Music at the University of Sussex. I have a broad range of interests from history to dance, to psychology. I hope to go into writing fiction after university.

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Mortality

Mortality

 

Why there’s nothing

 

so majestic, so stupendous                                                and strong

 

As

 

the human body. So

 

perfected in its intricacies

 

that one simple sneeze can

 

completely corrupt its complexities.

 

Where the cells have more

 

freedom than the people.

 

They decide upon mutinous mutations

 

beyond                                                                                   all control.

 

 

 

Our design is our demise.

 

 

 

They sit complacently

 

eyes glazed and glaring over

 

scarlet nose and sallow skin,

 

united only in conviction that their illness is

 

the worst.

 

 

 

They knock. With their

 

filthy fingers, and prepare their

 

monologue.

 

Pathetic sickly whining

 

act as if they’re dying.

 

 

 

How the callous and cold-hearted

 

fall to their knees

 

vying

 

for my sympathy.

 

Oh, don’t they know,

 

the wrong pill                                                                      could kill?

 

Would seem such an                                                          innocent

 

mistake;

 

not been sleeping – another ache

 

nothing more to                                                                  contemplate.

 

 

 

Young so stupid – old still foolish

 

“I won’t eat I’m gonna drink I’m gonna sniff

 

Some powdered random debris

 

test my body till

 

the bitter                                                                               end.”

 

And every

 

Time, they’re in the clear

 

But not

 

Me, I’m

 

terminal.

 

It’s

 

 

 

C-A-N-C-E-R

 

Ca-   ca-   can..... can-cer...

 

Every simple empty day

 

I have to say

 

it, to someone, so why                                                    can’t  I

 

say it, even whisper                                                      

 

it, to myself?

 

 

 

I’m their God; they want – demand- a

 

miracle cure,

 

I can fix them but

 

not their real problem

 

 

 

inside.

 

 

 

But oh sweet, merciful God, who

 

scorns me, mocks me,

 

laughs at me, laughs,

 

gives me the power

 

tingling

 

in my fingertips, over

 

life and death yet

 

not

 

 

 

my own.

 

 

 

 

 

Notes: This is a poem about the tragic irony of a doctor who is suffering from an untreatable illness, who struggles as he watches people making choices that negatively affect their health, yet continue to be unfailingly healthy. Essentially, this is a comment upon the nature of our mortality, and how no-one is exempt from illness or death.

 

I used language relating disease, and tried to focus on the imagery in some parts, so as to convey the gravity of the situation; ‘sallow skin.’ Also, I found the use of alliteration to be useful to create a sense of power behind the words, almost making it sound as though the doctor narrating the poem were shouting or spitting the words at the audience. Equally, at the start of the poem, I created some rhymes, which made the piece sound more light-hearted, which was a way of showing the doctor attempting to conceal his true feelings and fears, yet, later on as the poem progresses, the jovial rhymes no longer occur, and the doctor cannot help but reveal how he actually feels.

 

I chose to break up the word ‘cancer’ to demonstrate the immense difficulty the doctor has with admitting his own illness to himself, something which a lot of people struggle with.

 

To signify the doctor’s sheer rage and mania, we have repetitions of words, for example, ‘laughs’ when he is describing God, and this coupled with the sarcastic use of ‘merciful’ really helps to convey the sheer sense of despair and lack of control that the character feels, which I think is very relatable.

 

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