Stuck in My Head
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.
You arrive.
Dark clouds disappear.
You laugh.
Music to my ears.
A clatter.
Up stairs two by two.
You chatter.
Nothing else matters.
I wish my arms
Were long enough
To keep you encircled
In my embrace
Like mister tickle
I wish I could move
With you from place
To place
With that bracelet
From Blake’s seven
I wish my brain
Had a special GPS
To warn you of any obstacle
Like those CIA drones
I wish I could Uber eat
Chicken soup and
Chocolate milk to you
Whenever you are hungry.
But I’m just a Mummy.
A tiny hook seems to tug at my gut While I tap and I zap and can’t stay put I’d like to take a big deep breath I want to close my eyes and rest This worm of anxiety threads through my thoughts And I know now that this night will not be short I talk to myself, ’it will all be alright’ And, ‘you can sleep on another night’ By the stale blue light of my mobile screen A periscope on the world from a submarine Lost in the deep blues of ‘what if’ anxieties ‘Imagining the worst’ of many varieties Sinking, I will toss myself a life line A glance at the window glint of moonshine To remind me of the solid reassuring shape Of the familiar neighborhood landscape My interior monologue doesn’t fool me. It’s the same old witless repartee Insomnia plays hide and seek and wins While ‘may never’ happens make my head spin Stop this whirling pondering I should So this positive self talk had better be good!
You have fallen from grace in my eyes I ask,was It all just lies? Other words have reached me, And cast doubt on yours you see Thinking back I knew from the start You are an illusionist But what you missed Was the magic of a full heart Mine skipped a beat And when I looked up again The illusion was incomplete
I’m asleep with my eyes open
dreaming of you.
On my mind
Your face
A nostalgic tattoo
An indelible trace
By the time you wake up I’ll be gone
Only a spark
Just the start
But you let it get dark
You carry such grace
And that look on your face
The musical laugh
The sound of your voice as you pass
By the time you wake up I’ll be gone
But the dream wears on
Four am. Awake. Question time. Questions playing on my mind. Will it get easier? If so, why? How? When? If not now why then? Missing you. It's what I do best. It's become my quest. A difficult habit to quit. I won't get used to it. If you and I have split, Why am I torn in two, At the four am thought of you? How can I forget. You plus I makes one? Even if you are gone. All that binds us together. Makes leaving wrenching apart. Tearing at my heart. Begging the question why. Because it's question time. You are on two tracks In the train bound for Spain While I bed bound cannot refrain From a one track groove in my mind For You you and you is all I find Your face your smile your ways All the things I won't see for days... What to do, I can't think of anyone But you..
