It has been a very long wait. I am in my 58th year and my first solo poetry book finally goes on sale tomorrow.
When I was nine my class teacher wrote “Good creative writing. Presentation can suffer sometimes from rushed work” (see below). I hope they were right about the creative writing. I am not sure about the rushed work since it took another 49 years to publish a book.
“Old & UnWise – A Haphazard Collection of Poetry and Thought” is as close to a reflection of who I am, and how I think, as I am ever likely to produce. I have been asked whether the book has a central theme and while I did consider focusing on one theme, I eventually opted to show the full range of my poetry. It was not an easy decision. Books with a particular theme are easier to promote, but I wanted my book to be as authentic as possible, and Old & UnWise covers topics including social justice, domestic abuse, the environment and humanity in general. At the same time I believe that we should enjoy the creative process for what it is, and there are a number of poems that are simply flights of fancy and fantasy. These can range from the whimsical to the dark. They can be nonsensical or have an underlying message.
Those who know me well know that I fret over the legacy my generation will leave for the youth of today, especially since I am both a father of a wonderful daughter, and a coach of young men. At the same time I also love to have fun. Both the thinker in me and the comic are revealed in the book.
I trust that it will contain something for everyone and perhaps a little surprise in between.
It was so good to receive the first hard copy proof of my book. Despite what the title of this blog says I did not receive the book from out of space, although my Alien friends may add some fuel for conspiracy theorists. I did actually write all of the poetry in it and to actually feel it in my hands was an extremely fulfilling moment.
The Aliens, however, are an integral part of this story. During the pandemic I chose to have them as a backdrop to all of my work meetings as well as any Instagram live I decided to join. The Aliens generated a lot of interest and helped perk up many a conversation. It has been said that they use telepathy to control my writing but if they do I can only promise that I am unaware of it . All I know is that now they are an integral part of my family.
In the next few hours I will be posting details of how to pre-order a signed copy of the book which will be found on the homepage.
Although it is the 1 July in Belgium. Technically, I still have an hour to finish the last in this series of posts in the run up to my sixtieth birthday. It is still 23:25 in the UK and since I was born in London I am claiming to still be 59 and several hours.
So there is still time to let you all in on a secret. I always wanted to live to the age of sixty. Until recently I never looked beyond that magic number. Perhaps it is why I have never seriously looked into what my retirement age will be.
It is also one of the reasons I finally sat down to write Old & UnWise – A Haphazard Collection of Poetry and Thought.
Now that there are only a few minutes before I cross that line I find it rather liberating.
I have always been vocal about my opinions on society. But I find that as I age, the fear of facing consequences for expressing my opinion becomes less significant. Mind you there were a few instances in my youth when I certainly didn’t think twice about taking action.
I still remember being chased by the driver of the Russian Ambassador after I decorated the Ambassador’s car with a red and white sticker proudly displaying the logo of the Solidarność movement (Solidarność or Solidarity was a Polish Trade Union based in Gdansk that opposed Soviet control of Poland). Fortunately I was a good runner and escaped his clutches.
I may be a little slower now. So if I had to do the same again, I would stand still, smile and face whatever I’d have coming to me. Running would probably be more painful 😀.
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Fifteen minutes are left. I am still here. So it seems that I am going to make it to sixty. Thanks for being here. It is very kind of you.
As for what comes after sixty, I do have a few projects in mind. I intend to really work on my second book during summer. I also have a few poetry events where I will be performing in the UK and Belgium and maybe further afield.
I have a few ideas for short stories and might consider sharing them at some point in time.
Ten minutes left. Have I mentioned that Old & UnWise – A Haphazard Collection of Poetry and Thought is still available in print or as an ebook? It is quite a substantial collection featuring 172 poems.
I believe they call this a shameless plug 😀.
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Five minutes. What can I say? Thanks for visiting my blog. Watch this space for more updates in my sixtieth year.
And while you are here please consider visiting the MSF website and giving them a donation. It is a charity that I support. I know that any donation is greatly appreciated no matter how small. It would make getting to sixty really worthwhile.
Let me leave you with something to ponder. It is one of the thoughts that can be found at random in the book… It is better to be late than to swallow a porcupine.
Steve
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This blog is the last in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with future posts.
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What does it count for if I feel comfortable sitting at my desk when Ukraine is being attacked incessantly by Russia? If Sudanese civilians are caught in a terrible conflict between rival factions? If the Palestinian people are slowly being driven out of their land and starved to death in what can only be described as Genocide? If racism is still a problem in our society? If women cannot feel safe when they walk at night?
It counts for nothing.
What does it count for if I am not willing to stand up for the oppressed, or the powerless? If am not willing to do my part to help those in a less fortunate position than myself? If I am not ready to speak up and defend those who have no means to defend themselves?
It counts for nothing.
If sixty is to have any real value then it can only be counted in the times I have shown humanity, given a few minutes to someone who needed an ear, provided a shoulder when someone needed to cry on it.
It can be measured in moments of courage, empathy or in words of encouragement.
I hope that I have had some of these moments.
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This is my last rant before my sixtieth birthday.
I am sure there will be more.
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In a previous blog in this series I posted a poem I wrote about the Holocaust. Here is one I dedicated to Palestinian poets. The discourse must continue until the killing stops.
While you are here please consider visiting the MSF website and giving them a donation. It is a charity that I support. I know that any donation is greatly appreciated no matter how small.
Thank you.
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This blog is the twenty-ninth in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with any future posts.
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As I write this blog I can hear laughter coming from the living-room. It is a sound that brings a lot of joy to me. My wife and daughter are sharing a joke.
A few minutes ago we were discussing all that is going on in the world. Whether there are any solutions in the foreseeable future. And what those solutions might be.
We don’t always agree. That is something normal. We are all different, and have had different influences in our life. But all the same there is an understanding, a common feeling that each of us wants everyone in the world to have a fair chance. It is a simple but very important principle for us.
We also often have disagreements about less worldly things. Sometimes the arguments about trivial things can be heated. Very often it is these arguments that are hardest to solve. We have all had our hard-headed moments. When we needed to break away from the discussion and be alone.
But these moments never last long. Perhaps it is because ultimately we all want the best for each other. We never allow a disagreement to linger till the next day. And perhaps that is the strength of our small family as a unit.
We are all supportive of each other. Old & UnWise – A Haphazard Collection of Poetry and Thought would have never been finished without the encouragement I received at home.
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My mother passed away in February. It wasn’t easy losing her. But I decided I wouldn’t mourn her. Instead I decided to celebrate the memories I have of her.
When she passed our immediate family were all around her. I am lucky that I have a good relationship with my brother and two sisters. And although we now live in three different countries I know that at any time I can call on their support. They know I would do the same.
It is these little bonds that make life worthwhile.
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A few years ago my daughter was studying in Chicago. It happened to coincide with the pandemic. We didn’t get to see her for quite some time.
When things started to get back to normal, we finally got the chance to fly out to Chicago and see her. On the flight back I wrote this poem.
While you are here please consider visiting the MSF website and giving them a donation. It is a charity that I support. I know that any donation is greatly appreciated no matter how small.
Thank you.
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This blog is the twenty-eighth in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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There are over 8 billion people in the world. That is a lot of people. Taking up a lot of space. And yet in a crowded world so many of us are lonely, or feel detached.
According to the World Health Organisation in 2024, 720,00 people took their own lives. That is the number of people who were successful. There were many more who failed. To put it into perspective 1 in 100 deaths in 2019 was by suicide.
Suicide is the third biggest killer among 15 – 29 year-olds. That is a lot of youth lost. It is clear that more work needs to be done to provide tools for young people to manage their mental health. Much more also needs to be done to provide assistance when they are in a crisis.
You would think that governments would invest more in organisations that work with young people. They provide them with positive experience and the chance to share and discuss their issues. Yet whenever budget cuts are made, youth programs are often hit hard.
Many of them depend on private donations and fund raising activities. The fact that they manage to get by and do such important work is amazing. When are governments going to realise that investing in today’s youth is absolutely essential?
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I believe that suicide awareness, and the stigma around suicide, have been tackled more than when I was a youth. But there is so much more that can be done.
I meet a lot of younger poets at poetry events. Their poetry gives a great perspective on the issues that concern them most.
I believe that more people from my generation should listen to what they have to say. They should have an open mic event at every parliament in the world. It would be an eye opener for many.
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Earlier this year I was invited to an event in Antwerp focusing on the mental health of young men. There were a series of workshops discussing topics such as the place of men in modern society. I was the guest performer and performed poems around the theme of mental health.
One of the poems was about how men bottle up their emotions. And the damage that can cause. I decided to keep a very simple format to make sure the message was not lost in verbal intricacy. This is the poem:
And while you are here please consider visiting the MSF website and giving them a donation. It is a charity that I support. I know that any donation is greatly appreciated no matter how small.
Thank you.
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This blog is the twenty-seventh in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Not every one will be about time travel. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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Old and Unwise -A Haphazard Collection of Poetry and Thought doesn’t have a central message. I suppose grouping poems and giving the book a central theme would have made the book an easier sell. Not many people search for haphazard collections.
I knew that this would always be a possibility. Marketing a self-published book is a challenge in itself. However, I decided that if I was going to publish a book, I would do it my way. Throughout my life I have taken decisions that were questionable. That ran on gut feeling and instinct rather than just logical thought. And so far I am doing fine.
So the chaotic collection was born. A mix of political poems voicing environmental and social justice concerns, poems highlighting mental health, whimsical poems, dark poems and a bit of everything in between.
I truly believe the book is a reflection of who I am. Take it or leave it. It has taken me close to sixty years to really understand who I am. And to feel comfortable with all the wrinkles and anomalies that make me who i am.
This run of thirty posts leading up to my sixtieth birthday have been a way of allowing me to make a public self-assessment.
I acknowledge that there is a lot of crazy intertwined with what I once considered to be a logical mind. This is also reflected in my poetry. Poems which my wife affectionately calls my mind f*ck poems. I have learnt to celebrate this side of me too.
Click to purchase the ebook from Kobo
Yesterday I finished a poem with the title un-adult-e-rated. It shows a hint of the other me.
Most of my poems are written in one session and sometimes edited later. This one was written in two sessions. I hope you like it.
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Please let me know what you think. Comment or like this post. It helps the algorithm 😊
And while you are here please consider visiting the MSF website and giving them a donation. I know every amount is welcome.
Thank you.
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This blog is the twenty-sixth in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog (see below) to keep up to date with my posts.
I am often asked which NBA team do I support? My answer is I tend to support players or coaches rather than teams.
My all time favourite player is Manu Ginobili. He was not the best player in the NBA. He wasn’t even considered to be the best player in his team. But he had a flair and charisma that brought out the best of his teammates. He played with a passion and fire that only few can achieve.
He always made a difference.
But my blog today isn’t about basketball, or poetry, or writing. It is about an organisation that makes a difference. That in these troubled times is literally the only lifeline thousands of people can cling on to.
That organisation is Médecins Sans Frontières(MSF) also known as Doctors Without Borders.
Médecins Sans Frontières logo courtesy of their website
MSF deliver aide and medical support in those corners of the world where it is needed most. They work in the hardest conditions to bring a little hope where hope is in short supply. Conditions that us sitting at home cannot really imagine.
Their work is selfless. Very often they do not receive the gratitude they deserve. Often they have to surmount obstacles that are the acts of hostile authorities/groups that have no interest in providing care for those who need it.
If you watch or read the news, and you come across the effects of conflict or disasters, you will probably see the familiar flag of MSF. Think of the worst places in the world at any moment. they will be there.
For the past few years I have made it a point to organise a Fund Raising event online for MSF through social media. Usually they coincide with my birthday. For some reason my attempts to do so this year have failed. I have tried both Facebook and Instagram to no avail.
So I have decided to share the link to the MSF donation page here. You can donate from anywhere in the world. They really do need the support.
If you to help me celebrate my sixtieth birthday with a smile please donate to MSF. You can make a one-off donation or opt to make a monthly donation. Every little helps.
I have opted to remove all of the usual links from this blog. If you are going to click on a link. Donate to MSF.
Thank you.
This blog is the twenty-third in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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Those of you who know me from Instagram probably have seen my Aliens. They have accompanied me throughout my Instagram journey and whenever I go live from a different location everyone asks where they are.
Do not get me wrong. They are not real aliens. If they were, they would be very uncomfortable since they only have a neck and head and nothing much besides.
My Aliens as they appear in Instagram lives next to their UFO lamp
These Alien heads are actually plastic wig stands made in the 1960s. My wife and I bought a couple for her online shop a year or so before the pandemic and they sold out immediately. We then had the chance to buy a lot of twenty or so just before lockdown. The gentleman we bought them from said someone in his family had a hair salon in the 60s and 70s and they had been in his garage ever since. I imagine the salon looked pretty cool.
We decided to buy the whole lot. So at one point point there were 20 or more of these heads all around the house.
During lockdown I didn’t want to have a boring backdrop whenever I had online meetings so I decided to place three of these Aliens behind me. They were an instant hit.
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Whereas everyone else had serious looking bookshelves behind them, my Aliens always stole the scene. They were a definite ice-breaker.
When I started taking part in Instagram lives it was natural that the Aliens would join me online. I think my early love of science fiction books and movies may have subconsciously had something to do with it too.
An Alien reading my book in a Brussels park
I always try to add to the mystique of the Aliens. Whenever I am online I always state that if I say anything untoward it is because the Aliens control my mind. I don’t think anyone really believes it but you never know.
The Aliens announce my book
I have since added to the Alien theme. An oil painting of Aliens spotted in a Dutch vintage shop found its way into my tiny home office. There is also a student model of DNA for the Aliens to study.
The latest rumour is that I will get one ear pierced to celebrate my sixtieth birthday and that I will have a silver Alien earring. Some even say the earring will actually be a miniature radio which the Aliens can use to communicate with me at all times. All I have to say is No Comment.
It is natural that people asked if I actually believe there is life on other planets. To be honest the universe is so big that I would be surprised if there wasn’t. I don’t know what form they would take but I imagine it would be very different from anything we know.
Get your ibook version here.
I often wonder if there is another “intelligent lifeform” which had the technology to reach us. I imagine they would take one look at how we treat our planet and each other and leave as quickly as they arrived. Currently the picture we paint is rather bleak.
Or maybe they are already here. Among us. In the form of plastic wig stands. Who knows?
This blog is the twenty-third in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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Poets write poetry. They rant in verse. Cry in ink. Layer thoughts on paper. Emote though words.
But they also paint in rhyme. Describe in stanzas. Bring to life in rhythmic script.
Sometimes the words flow like a restless river. Often they march in syllabic form.
There is no one way of doing poetry. It can be an instinctive outpouring of emotion, or pulled out of the soul with a prompt.
There are occasions where prompts can become quite complicated. They become puzzles where words or lines have to be matched in predetermined patterns. These prompts sometimes produce forced verse, but that it okay. Because sometimes a line is born which then becomes the seed for another poem.
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Sometimes I take my naturally competitive nature, and apply it to writing. Today was one of those days. I wanted to challenge myself. I was ready to lose sleep over the task. I wanted to try something I had never done before. The end result is a rather abstract piece about life.
Here it is:
Have you spotted the pattern? The first letter of each word matches the last letter of the word before. This carries on throughout the poem with the first letter of the title matching the last letter of the last word in the poem.
If you are brave, why not have a go? And please let me know if you take up the challenge.
Disclaimer: This challenge is purely for the readers pleasure. I cannot be held responsible for any sleep lost ☺.
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This blog is the twenty-third in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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Just over a month ago I announced that I would be taking a hiatus from coaching basketball. It is a decision that I did not take lightly. After all, I have been coaching for 41 years. And that is a very, very long time.
Forty-one years. One could say that besides family, basketball has been the one constant in my adult life. I have given a lot to the game and the game has given a lot to me.
I coached both at club and international level in Malta. I was lucky enough to run international Jamborees for what was then FIBA Mini-Basketball. When I moved to Belgium I continued to be active, coaching in both international schools and clubs.
I coached my wife-to-be at university. She went on to coach basketball too. Our wedding cake was brown and spherical. Yes, you guessed correctly. It was a replica basketball.
We got married on a Friday. She coached on Saturday. We left for our honeymoon on Sunday.
My wife and I coached against each other for the first time on our first wedding anniversary – it was a top of the table clash. We agreed before the match that the winner would cook. Just to keep the peace😉.
When my daughter was only five months old we took her abroad for the first time. We were accompanied by over thirty young basketball players and a group of parents from our basketball school. We coached. The players and parents took it in turns to babysit.
I coached my daughter for a very short while at school. Coaching her was never my intention so I quickly passed her on to other coaches. I didn’t feel it was fair on her. I never let on just how proud I am to have coached her for that short time.
I have had the pleasure of working with top basketball coaches in international basketball camps. But above all I have had the chance to get to know so many young men and women and watch them develop. There is no greater satisfaction.
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So making the decision to stop was not easy. Particularly because in the past five years I have had the pleasure of coaching a fantastic group of young men.
Perhaps I will return to coach the game I love. Perhaps not. Only time will tell.
Although I have stopped coaching I will never stop being coach. I still keep in contact with many former players. I will always be there for them if they need me.
Unfortunately some of my former players are no longer with us. That is something that is very hard to accept. I will be sixty if I live another week. They will never reach that number. It is a very painful reality.
My First Tournament as Coach of the Malta U-15 National Team – I know I don’t look much older than 15 in the photo but I promise I was the coach.
After all, coaching basketball has always been about the people. Basketball was always a means. A common passion. If some of those I met along the way became successful in the game. That was always a bonus. Any milestone reached, however small, was a milestone shared,
Strangely enough, when I returned to writing poetry, writing about basketball was always something I found very difficult. Despite the fact that I wrote a basketball column for the Times of Malta for ten years.
Eventually, I think I managed to pen one piece that made it into Old & UnWise – A Haphazard Collection of Poetry and Thought. The title is The Buzzer Beater and fittingly it is the last poem in the book.
AppleThe final Stanza of The Buzzer Beater
This blog is the twenty-second in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Basketball had to feature at least once. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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In a previous blog I explained how I used to write prolifically when I was younger, then took a short break of around thirty years.
During that time I wrote just one poem and that was in Maltese. My wife was doing research for a program on an educational channel which discussed the history and geography of Maltese towns and cities.
Every episode featured a song, poem or literary extract related to the town. The research was a lot harder than it would be today because at the time the World Wide Web was still in its infancy.
When it came to the Maltese town of Birżebbuġa both my wife and her co-presenter drew a blank. The deadline was round the corner so my wife asked me to help her with the Internet search
After for half an hour I decided it would be quicker to write a poem that to find one and proceeded to write about Għar Dalam a network of caves in Birżebbuġa where a lot of prehistoric remains have been found.
GħarDalam had always fascinated me so it wasn’t difficult to find the inspiration to write a short poem. When I was ready I handed a printed version to my wife who was very pleased that I had managed to find something so quickly.
Then she saw my name at the bottom of the A4 sheet of paper and realised what had happened. With no other alternative available, the first poem I had written in years made it on to TV.
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It took another decade or so for me to write another poem. My daughter was studying in the UK and I had driven over to pick her up for the holidays.
I remember being very early, so I stopped for a coffee and was waiting for time to pass sitting in the car. It was the kind of grey, damp day that makes Hell seem an attractive proposition.
I didn’t have as book to read so I started to scribble in the hope that the clock would move faster. It didn’t. The scribbles became more frenetic as I got into a rhythm a poem began to form. Quite unintentionally.
The end result pleased me, so I had another go at scribbling a couple of days later. Before I knew it, scribbling sessions started to become a common thing.
I decided to post a couple of my poems on Social Media and was quite surprised by the positive feedback I received. This encouraged me to start a knew Instagram account and so thoughts_by_steve was born.
A few months later, I discovered Instagram lives. I would pop in to these channels and watch the hosts read poems that were sent to them. They also had the ability to “invite” poets into the virtual room to read/perform their own poetry.
At first I was a passive participant. Listening in to the poetry whenever I could. By this time the pandemic had started and I had a lot more time on my hands. The basketball season was cancelled and I was working from home.
Eventually, I decided to pluck up the courage, and sent in a poem to be read by the host of one of the programs. I was curious to hear how the poem would sound if read by someone else.
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It was a very strange experience. Hearing my poem being read by someone on the other side of the world.
The host, Angela Psalm, was very gracious and seemed to like the poem. The experience encouraged me to send in more of my poems to be read online, and eventually, I even plucked up the courage to join a live and perform my own poems. But that is a story for another time.
I recently had the pleasure of meeting Angela and her family in Camden Town. They were on holiday from Australia. We also met other poets in Camden. Some who had read my poems online. Others whose poems I had the pleasure of reading when I started my own lives on Instagram.
It was strange meeting so many people who I had only seen on screen before. We had lunch, and a very pleasant afternoon passed really quickly. Some of the group had to say their goodbyes, but a handful of us made our way to an open mic at a brewery. Everyone got to perform a poem or two and this time the poetry had legs 😀.
This blog is the twentieth in a series of 30 leading up to my sixtieth birthday. Not every one will be about time travel. Please consider subscribing to my blog to keep up to date with my posts.
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Stephen Buttigieg - Words 