Stuck in My Head
Make music
Stay in tune
As You are.
Two
Always making room
One
For the other.
Burst into song
The days short
The evenings long
While hours away
Heartbeats entwined
Living in time
To each other
Write me a song
Whose lyrics tell of years
Sung to the cheers
Of appreciating gazes
Of understanding glances
Of little joyful dances
A wedding song….
You Why do you who, Makes flowers grow from words Why do you who, Shapes graceful gardens in paragraphs Why do you whose, majestic rivers of rhyme Flow, Just so Why do you, landscaper of ideas, hold on To your feelings, and fears As the breeze blows in on the air So we grow from worries shared To free your mind from many cares Let go of your balloon of fears, And watch it as they disappear, Dispersing dandelion clocks Tied up in knots inside and locked, From outside wisdom closed and blocked, Your worries start to take control They take up space they growl they grow. So open up and let them go And no more seeds of sadness sew To grow into weeds of your anxieties. Instead, favored with air fair weather Light as a feather Cut free You will blossom As yours is genius beauty and creativity.
Do small things with great love Is the key to this philosophy Using kindness and generosity To dedicate efforts consistently To smoothing our way every day In each small action Not token shows of affection Countless small gestures Demonstrate the measure Of a gracious love to treasure Before yourself put others Is the motto of our mothers Finely attuned and attentive Needing no other incentive To better the world where we live.
Memories of my childhood Such as they are Are delicately preserved In a mind warped jar Comprised of scraps Of shards and clippings Of disconnected rememberings Coming home from school Greeted by the promise of gravy-laden food Begging for a taste with bread The sound of the a football match Drifting up from the TV to me in bed Family arriving to visit in the lounge Lingering on the landing to the sounds Of everyone arriving and stowing coats and hats Sure of hugs and exclamations to come after that Jokes over the dining table Helping to clear up Much less than I was able Getting extra credit For helping in the kitchen The best moments The ones spent together preparing A childhood filled with love, with caring. With careful choices and sometimes raised voices. With kisses and terms of endearment And with all the encouragement Needed to feed a growing girl For 18 years this was my world Safe familiar, secure provided for. Not videoed minute by minute No scrapbook with everything in it No Facebook page coming of age No instagram feed No story to read But strands of every memory Making up me.
So much of what I can’t control is what is what makes me anguish or what makes me whole what steals away serenity what ties me down what makes me free what makes me feel I cannot cope what feeds my fear what gives me hope what makes some memories live on what makes me angry what makes me strong what makes me lie awake at night what makes me wrong what makes me right what makes me know I can believe what makes me stay what makes me leave what gives me reason to be proud what makes me go quiet what makes me get loud I can’t control each tiny part of life’s enormous work of art. Far better then learn to adapt. You can control how you react.
Muscat sec and a heart to heart The hazy days of chardonnay lunches Bright sunlight filtered by branches Or hidden by sheltering parasol parts Kids doing kids stuff Comes back to me in flashes Snap shots Clinking cutlery hot to the touch Cutting their food up So much to say between courses Between getting them to eat greens Red noses, forgotten the sun cream We share out the ice cubes Maybe finish their food Waiting for the waiter Maybe some flirtation Or a little impatience Laughter Ice cream for afters Pack up backpacks And onto the scorching path Then backtrack Forgot the sunglasses. Now a late sweaty rush Back to the classroom hush With sticky fingered goodbyes And see you later cries.
With all of the vocabulary In French or English dictionaries It's hard to find the lexical key To talk about our group of three How can a phrase or paragraph Describe the times that we have laughed, That we have danced and gone off script That we have twirled, or jumped or skipped The moments when we broke the rules With meals on sofas after school The rainy days you stayed inside And dressed like little princess brides The stories shared upon my knees The many menus from our deep freeze The secrets stored and then revealed The veggies left after your meals The homework finished in a huff Revision time never enough The songs performed, guitar and drum Making me a prouder mum. Friends to stay here over night Thus diluting the sibling fights Clothes to choose, new bags new shoes Some questions over whose are whose All these moments that we share Are answering all of my prayers A life of love and fun to nurture I have found and need not search for.
In his posh pullover Uncle Pete, was as ever, neat. He always had a tale to tell Wearing that big grin, as well There with a huge bear hug Standing on the hallway rug A starchy shirt a smart new tie With outstretched arms and sparkling eyes. Caring about our every progress Celebrating in any small success Three generations of us Lived within his generous love He shared in times of joy for me And in the sadder times you see He never turned away. With a strength that never swayed.
Overflowing with life, love and wit. The mistress of that house had all of it. Bejewelled in a rhapsody of harmonious colour, Of warmth, good things, Beauty, It could not have been fuller. Tastes, textures, artefacts, frames, all combined. A luxurious love nest In West Bridgford, You could find. All of the details were there, Presented with such loving care. Each year we assembled To be treated.In the lap of luxury, we were greeted. My graceful June and twinkling Clive. Their love for each-other, So much alive. In sunny weather we would talk together, In a small paradise of garden chairs, Tasty buffet wares, Impressive horticultural affairs. Up to date with the latest gadgets, Organised to a 'T' A chat with everyone was guaranteed. With such attention to the small details June still made me feel big. My auntie. Interested in me.
How many times, when I close my eyes,
Do I go to that room, where love lives.
My uncle is there, sitting back in his chair,
A smile, a nod to my auntie Muriel,
To show such enjoyment at any tale I tell.
All eyes are on me, as I sip my tea,
As I tell of all of my small victories.
Anything I say is interesting, any explanation.
Met with attentive sighs and exclamations.
In years to come, with my children,
I re-live the same scene.
The attention multiplied by ten,
The love, by a thousand then.
Nurtured in such certainty,
My towering uncle so sure of me,
A thick warm blanket of adoration,
Served up with stuffed monkeys,
To each generation.
My auntie bustling to refill our plates,
My dad fretting as we are running late,
My mum soaking up the moment,
Knowing as she does that it isn’t permanent.
But to me it was always going to be there,
That room, that table, those chairs.
Everything in its place, everyone.
The building blocks of who I am.
I return there now by only these means.
When I close my eyes or in my dreams.
To behold my auntie, in all her beauty.
Only kindness, love and generosity,
As she serves me up another plate of self confidence,
Grown from many a family conference,
Conducted over afternoon tea.