Unclimbable manmade mountainsides,
Leading to most public domains,
As old as the birth of human civilization,
Still visible in ancient remains.
One small step for some men daily,
Some take two at a time,
Others dance up and down them,
But I’m allergic to the climb.
I can’t feel that soft stairs carpet,
Under my bare morning feet,
I can’t stupidly slide down rails,
Till the floor and I rudely meet.
The top steps are out of bounds,
A most hazardous zone of no go,
Filled with high danger and death,
Like a river where rapids flow.
The jagged appearance repels me,
Out of reach like cliff-top rocks,
Up my steps lies a land of wonders,
The staircase laughs and mocks.
But no matter how much I try to,
Or the sheer bravery I call upon,
My allergy keeps me off the stairs,
Their flights make me move on.
One step beyond my top level,
A staircase to my glass ceiling,
The words drinks on the top floor,
Always have left me reeling.
Antihistamines don’t relieve me,
My allergies much too strong,
Only ramps and lifts help me,
But I know there’s nothing wrong,
I always go round unseen ways,
When ordinary people use stairs,
You take in some private views,
If you drive round in wheelchairs.
About the Author
Matt Gopsill
I’m just a normal man with a wheelchair strapped to me. My background is in computing but in my spare time, I was writing poetry. A few years ago I went to an open mic night, I was nervous because I use a computer to talk for me and I’d never spoken a poem out, it went well and applause rang out!
My writing has improved from then in quality, quantity even performing in poetry slams and open mics, writing poetry about any topic being funny or serious. I wait for inspiration to come and I never know what poetry I’m going to write next which is exciting.
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