Posts

Posted on

You

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.
Posted on

To Do.

Much to do
Many tasks
Doing all, that
'To do list' asks

Listing forgotten
Things all night
Tense, and preoccupied
Drinking coffee, Nerves fried

For what?
Breathe?

I’ve tried.

Tick things off
More appear

It’s now, I’m here,
But not present
I’m off in my head.
To what end its not clear.
Posted on

One Day Of Rain

One day of rain
And everything had changed
Not wanting to complain
But seeing nothing was the same
I turned to a new page 


Through milk bottle bottom lenses
No longer sure of what I saw
I'd misunderstood what was intended
knocked to the ground
By the ungrateful crowd
Who'd booed without a sound 


I'll count my blessings
Say I've learned new lessons
Wait for the next rays of human kindness
To cure my temporary blindness
Posted on

The details you’re not seeing.

Catch an elusive moment
As a wisp of smoke
Grasped between your fingers 
While on the air afloat


 A concentrated flavour
 To taste to feel to savour
 A satisfying potion
 To stop time in its motion
 
 
 The tastiest bite of peach
 Gives way beneath your teeth
 The darkest chocolate piece
 Its bittersweet released
 
 
 That moment sun hits skin
 You feel the place you're in
 Come on and close your eyes
 Don’t let this chance slip by
 
 
 The very music of your being
 Is in the details you’re not seeing.  

Posted on

Early Hours

Unsaid unsung unseen
Such hidden fears play out in the deepest hour of my sleep
On the mind’s eye cinema screen
To leave a lasting daylight question mark
When daylight finally might
Deign to compete with this phone so artificially bright
In my hands a fountain of other scenes to distract from what has not been

Waking in the early hours slowly emerging from a cloying nightmare
Leaving a snail trail of still real-seeming storyline
The phones’ dimmed but still too bright light guides me back
A beacon of real preoccupation to distract
From the lurking fears brought to life in cinematic deep sleep
To the real yet unreal lives of other people
From the half strangers still posting on my feeds
To the real strangers’ Times’ reported deeds
Stories to distract from the dread acted out at night inside my head.


	


	





		

		
Posted on 
Labour of Love
	


	
	

		



 
 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.  








	


	





		

		
Posted on 
Making up Me
	


	
	

		





















 
 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. 











	


	





		

		
Posted on 
What I can’t control
	


	
	

		

 

 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. 






	


	





		

		
Posted on 
Menu Enfant
	


	
	

		

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.
















	


	





		

		
Posted on 
You arrive
	


	
	

		

You arrive. 





Dark clouds disappear.





You laugh.





Music to my ears.





A clatter.





Up stairs two by two.





You chatter.





Nothing else matters.