Her notepad poems:
Trapped In The Summer Poem

Trapped in the summer

The time of summer, is coming near
Is it a time for joy, or maybe for fear
Trapped in my home, every day
Never escaping, come what may
Sometimes I wish, I could be free
But I know, that can never be
My mind confused, and full of pain
Sometimes those thought, come again
My legs are bad, they never work
Trying to kill myself, makes me a jerk
My wife and daughter, I love so much
Its them I hold, to keep me in touch
Summer's here again, and here I'll be
Hiding behind, where no one can see
Dean Thorpe
Sunset behind a barbed wire fence

The sunsetting behind a barbed wire fence in Portsmouth. Photo by Dean Thorpe

Breakdown of The poem

The time of summer, is coming near 
A time of year that can mean very different things to different people.

Is it a time for joy, or maybe for fear 
Most people love the summer, but the year I wrote this my leg problems had been getting worse and I had not learnt to drive yet. Learning to drive has been one of my biggest achievements and made a huge difference to my quality of life since becoming disabled.

Trapped in my home, every day 
Living out in the countryside is nice sometimes, but we live at the bottom of a long, steep hill and all the shops etc. are up that hill. Going up that hill on foot is virtually impossible for me and on days when I use my wheelchair its even worse!.

Never escaping, come what may 
Even the public transport was useless. There were very few buses and the local railway station has dreadful disabled access. On one of the times I did travel by train I did not buy a ticket as a protest and I got caught. They stopped me at the time, took my details and shortly after I got a letter saying I would have to pay a fine or go to court. I wrote back quoting all the parts of the Disability Discrimination Act that were broken on my journey and they wrote back telling me what I did was wrong, but that they were dropping all charges!

Sometimes I wish, I could be free 
Sometimes I am not even sure what being free is these days. There are days I find it very difficult to even walk from one room to the next at home, cold days are the worst.

But I know, that can never be 
I would still not class myself as free, with the ridiculous price of petrol these days its very limiting and without the car I am still as trapped as ever. I just have the illusion of being free, its like being in an invisible prison.

My mind confused, and full of pain 
Pain can happen of many levels, both physical and mental, for me the lines between can get blurred. Some days I am fine, other days neither my head or my body seems to want to work.

Sometimes those thought, come again 
Bad thought come, bad thoughts go, as long as I have more good thoughts than bad then I am OK. I am not one of those people that always feel sorry for themselves, there are people out there that have it much worse than I do and I always try to remember that. So what I am disabled and a little nuts! It could be worse!

My legs are bad, they never work 
Still no improvement there, I am still fighting it and try to make do with my crutches and not use my wheelchair unless I really have no choice. I think wheelchairs are a great invention and have nothing against people who use wheelchairs, but as long as I can struggle on crutches, I will.

Trying to kill myself, makes me a jerk 
Been there, tried that, got the t-shirt. My depression has got to that point a couple of times in my life, but I am still here and I am very happy about that now.

My wife and daughter, I love so much 
I really do not know what I would do without them, I really do doubt I would still be here if it was not for the two of them.

Its them I hold, to keep me in touch 
They really do mean the world to me, they can both be pains in the bum! but they are both there for me when I need them.

Summer's here again, and here I'll be 
Funny thing is that I am adding this breakdown of the poem on a freezing cold November evening, a couple of days ago I went out in the car and when I got in the interior temperature was -4c! Not good for physical or mental wellbeing.

Hiding behind, where no one can see 
I used to spend a lot of my time talking to people from all over the world, but all via the internet using ICQ, MSN Messenger and loads of Usenet group. I preferred to talk to people that way as people could not see me and could not judge me on my health, disabilities, looks, size etc. These days I am getting more confident.

Please select a page:
  1. Her notepad poems: Introduction
  2. Her notepad poems: Being free to be me
  3. Her notepad poems: Big metal box
  4. Her notepad poems: Blue lights in the mirror
  5. Her notepad poems: Christmas thoughts
  6. Her notepad poems: Cold and grey in the UK
  7. Her notepad poems: Colours of my life
  8. Her notepad poems: Computers are a pain
  9. Her notepad poems: Concept of happiness
  10. Her notepad poems: Crowds all around me
  11. Her notepad poems: Derailed train of thought
  12. Her notepad poems: Eh Ju Kay Shon
  13. Her notepad poems: Evil people around us
  14. Her notepad poems: Exploring the woods
  15. Her notepad poems: Feel the pain
  16. Her notepad poems: Feeling alone
  17. Her notepad poems: First true love
  18. Her notepad poems: Fluffy little tails
  19. Her notepad poems: Fluidity / genderfluid
  20. Her notepad poems: Free school parking
  21. Her notepad poems: Frozen moment in time
  22. Her notepad poems: Gay Pride
  23. Her notepad poems: Going to Disneyland Paris
  24. Her notepad poems: Hand beside me
  25. Her notepad poems: I hate you
  26. Her notepad poems: Illusion of life
  27. Her notepad poems: Just another dumb animal
  28. Her notepad poems: Just be
  29. Her notepad poems: Life of a photographer
  30. Her notepad poems: Life of a snowflake
  31. Her notepad poems: Light from another world
  32. Her notepad poems: Lurking in the darkness
  33. Her notepad poems: Maybe I am going mad
  34. Her notepad poems: Mindfulness
  35. Her notepad poems: Normality
  36. Her notepad poems: Not going mad this Christmas
  37. Her notepad poems: Opening my mind
  38. Her notepad poems: Out there
  39. Her notepad poems: Passion or prayer
  40. Her notepad poems: Perfect man
  41. Her notepad poems: Psyonic dreams
  42. Her notepad poems: Raindrops on the window
  43. Her notepad poems: Red is the colour of blood
  44. Her notepad poems: Roller coaster rider
  45. Her notepad poems: Second by second
  46. Her notepad poems: Side effect of Doctors
  47. Her notepad poems: Silence closes in
  48. Her notepad poems: Sometimes
  49. Her notepad poems: Some people
  50. Her notepad poems: Storm
  51. Her notepad poems: Strange creatures
  52. Her notepad poems: Stranger beside me
  53. Her notepad poems: Sugar excess
  54. Her notepad poems: Tick and the tock
  55. Her notepad poems: Time flies by
  56. Her notepad poems: Trapped in the Summer
  57. Her notepad poems: Trust in terror media
  58. Her notepad poems: Watching death poem
  59. Her notepad poems: Westwood House
  60. Her notepad poems: When I grow up
  61. Her notepad poems: When munchies attack
  62. Her notepad poems: Why I go to Pride
  63. Her notepad poems: Why me
  64. Her notepad poems: You are my reason