Poem: 'Unspoken Word'

Read a poem by STAMMA member Peter Bradley.

Unspoken Word

by Peter Bradley

Did you stutter?
Yeah I did,
did you notice?
I prefer the word stammer,
it's my own self-diagnosis.

When I drink it goes away,
like hypnosis.
Confidence flows into my speech, it fills my lungs,
like haematosis.

I often challenge the common conception,
that someone that stutters has no determination,
to be socially ambitious,
by challenging myself to difficult situations.

Rising to the challenge can sometimes be fantastic,
Although if you hit a block it's like when the iceberg sunk the Titanic,
it's sporadic.

Mondays can be fantastic,
Fridays can be traumatic,
speech steers the boat,
and like a captain I sink,
with words and potential,
stuck in my throat.

Fluency is a very welcome visitor,
but the holiday season ends when the sun becomes dimmer,
and hesitation creeps back in when stress levels become busier.

People lack patience in that which is different,
misunderstanding conceived as that which is ignorant.
Bitterness flows through my brain,
I try to fight with a positive frame of mind.
I keep it inside in containers,
which are easy to find,
on my shoulders,
weighing down my emotions,
trying to forget but they foster.

Darkness affects my mood,
also running directly proportionally to my consumption of food,
My greed provides a short-term feeling of good.

I have learnt tricks,
to hide my affliction,
I like to vote,
a pen provides an easy opportunity for me to share my opinion.
Sometimes I still go unheard,
in the groups of challenging conversation,
I fight for a chance to build character and reputation.

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