In the realm of spoken word poetry, there are few names that resonate as powerfully as Harry Baker. With his razor-sharp wit, magnetic stage presence, and uncanny ability to turn words into vivid emotions, Baker has carved a niche for himself as one of the most captivating and talented poets of our time. Prepare to be enthralled as we delve into the world of this extraordinary wordsmith.
Here is one of his captivating works titled “Impossible”.
I’m finding it too easy
to tell myself it is too hard,
When facing the end
that it’s too late
to even make a start,
But if we take impossible
to mean that we don’t
have a chance,
We have lost sight
of how unlikely it was
we would get this far.
The way the single fish
outwits a shark
by sticking with its school,
The way the crescent moon
outspins its dark
to once again be full,
Even winter –
given long enough
begins to lose its cool,
That which was once exceptional
now barely registers at all.
Flamingos and giraffes
look like they were drawn
by a child,
We can’t begin to comprehend
all of the ways
this world is wild,
None of them asked
if they were possible
before they came to be,
None of them have
ceased to exist
by being told
they’re make-believe.
The bug who
finds it all too much,
and tries to shut off
everything,
To have recovered
and then summoned up
the strength to
stretch its wings
The snake so full of itself
that it cannot help
but shed its skin
Or how instead of death,
the hedgehog went to bed
and slept til spring.
To think the Earth exists
at this specific
distance from the sun,
Down to the angle
of the axis
on which everything is spun,
The fact that trees
happen to breathe
that which we need
inside our lungs,
It would all seem impossible,
had it not already been done.
We are impossible
to everyone
who’s ever gone before
And everyone who’s yet to come
will push impossible some more.
Just as indeed the do’s we did
outdo the don’ts we didn’t,
so everything’s impossible,
until it isn’t.
The thought of rivers
changing course
before somebody gave a damn
Or that a tide
might turn from shore
before a line’s drawn
in the sand,
We cannot know
how far our actions go
The impact they might have
Sometimes the only thing
that we can do
Is to do all we can
Just as the night
is at its darkest
When it’s introduced to day,
Just as the dry
is at its harshest
In the breath before it rains,
It’s easy enough
to believe in something
when it’s all okay,
But it’s when times
are at their hardest
that it’s hardest to have faith.
Yet when the light
begins to fade
that’s when we need it the most
It’s by surviving day to day
that we see seasons evolve
If there was never any doubt
there’d be no reason for hope,
It could be too late
to do anything,
It sure as hell is if we don’t.
And I am tired
of the doom and gloom
and self-fulfilling prophecy,
I am trying
to find room to bloom
and self-fulfil the opposite,
When it’s an act of revolution
to try to stay remotely positive,
There’s nothing wishy-washy
about opting to be optimists.
Whether a brighter future’s
possible we may not truly know,
But the first step towards that
future is imagining it so,
and so as indeed the dos we did
outdo the don’ts we didn’t,
It only stays impossible,
until it isn’t.
And when it’s over,
and we’re no more
than old bones
within the ground,
Still the soil knows
to sow its seed
from what is broken down,
What is lost is always lost
until the moment it is found,
And these things
only ever go one way,
unless we turn them around.
We are so constantly surrounded
that it’s easy to forget,
This world was built
upon impossible,
that has not stopped us yet.
so yes indeed the dos we did
outdo the don’ts we didn’t
So it remains impossible,
until it isn’t.
See more of Harry Baker’s works here.
