Month: August 2019

THE FIELD

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The field offered its soul tonight
Raw, unadulterated,
White with the innocence of promise
Now silent after busyness
A moment of contemplation
A waiting time
When nature can be still, rest,
And in the silent peace
A family
Of Little Egrets wandered
But this was just a moment
Soon the ploughing will begin
New seeds sown
The silence broken
The cycle will begin again

BROKEN

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Beyond what is possible

Comes the impossible

Trying to go beyond

You broke today

For so long

You kept it together

But today

You let it go

And ripped your heart in two

Tried beyond bearing

And now

I have to pick you up

Off the floor

Put you together again

And see your fragility

Again

Soon will come

The breaking of all time

And who then

Will pick you up?

 

PERHAPS SOON

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Perhaps soon these days will pass
Days of grey fading into dark
Then the waiting will be done
Fate will be accomplished

Days of grey fading into dark
A different way I then will live
Fate will be accomplished
I wait in limbo for this time

A different way I then will live
A foreigner in this land
I wait in limbo for this time
Whiling away my days

A foreigner in this land
No signposts there I’ll find
Whiling away my days
Waiting for time to pass

No signposts there will I find
Just memories that fade
Waiting for time to pass
Colours now all gone

Just memories that fade
Are my companions now
Colours now all gone
Perhaps soon these days will pass

#FOWC. Masterpiece

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FOWC with Fandango — Masterpiece

 

It never was going to be a Masterpiece.  The little boy always came to school in tatty and worn clothes and stinking of urine.  None of the other kids wanted to go near him, and at assembly and other such events you could see them visibly moving away from him and closer to their neighbour on the other side.  He had no friends at all.  And it got worse when he got a skin infection on his hands, and sores aound his mouth.

But he was a cheerful, friendly little boy, often putting his hand up in class to ask questions.  He had a lively interest in all subjects.
Art was one of his favourite subjects, and one day he proudly brought his offering to me for my approval.  No, it was not a Masterpiece, but it was beautiful.  An amazing painting of an insect, minutely presented.  To me, it was the most beautiful thing I had seen for a long time.  It had been painted with love.  And that was what mattered.  I thanked him for this offering, and told him it was beautiful.  It was lovely to see him go away with a smile on his face.

I SAW YOU

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This poem, which is not a patricularly good one, (but I needed to express it) is for my mother who has been my abuser all my life.  But behind it all is the deepest hurt, which is why I can still love her.  

 

 

I saw you sat so many times with hardened eyes

Staring at who knew what from ancient past

My soft heart bled for you midst many sighs

 

Oft had I come to you with deepest love,  no whys

I took my cue from gentle skies so vast

I saw you sat so many times with hardened eyes

 

Now time is almost gone oh how it flies

My spirit feels your pain the dye is cast

My soft heart bled for you with many sighs

 

 

I long  for life within you now to rise

For love to pierce your heart right at the last

I saw you sat so many times with hardened eyes

 

I know behind it all is hurt that cries

From tragedies that plagued you in your past

My soft heart bleeds for you with many sighs

 

Your last breath soon will come disguise

Not your truest feelings, fading fast

I saw you sat so many times with hardened eyes

My soft heart bleeds  for you with many sighs

SIGHS

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For far too long
I have held my sighs
And now
I must let them go,
No longer keep them captive,
Release them from their prison
Not in my eyes
But in my heart,
Sometimes I think
That if I were to cry
I would cry for ever,
For grief has been my lot,
Pain unsurpassable,
Yet still I smile,
For me it was the better way,
For if my tears were to flow
They would be like the rivers
Pouring from the temple,
But golden like the temple,
Leading me to Jerusalem,
The Eternal City.

JOY WAS BORN IN THE PAST

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I held in my hands today my past,
And now it becomes the present,
Re-created before my eyes,
Living deep in my heart,
Always these things were in my memory,
But now the memory has changed.

Is it really me who has changed,
My present lives in my past,
It is so much more than a memory,
Transforming me in the present,
Things that live in my heart
Will always glow in my eyes

Blind now are my eyes,
How much my life has changed,
But love still lives in my heart,
The good that I knew in my past,
Comes to life in the present,
Love is much more than memory.

Sometimes I rely on memory,
A substitute for my eyes,
Darkness fills my present,
For now the sky has changed,
Beauty lived in the past,
But now it lives in my heart

One day your love warmed my heart,
I see you now in my memory,
There were good days in the past,
I saw myself in your eyes,
The colours in my life changed,
I see rainbows in the present

How beautiful is the present,
There’s dancing in my heart,
The song has never changed,
It lies deep within my memory,
Redundant now are my eyes,
My joy was born in the past

MY SHOPPING TRIP YESTERDAY

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Thankyou all so much for all your prayers and good wishes. Well, what happened was that we got to the store and there was nowhere to park. The place was heaving! Hubby then got angry lol. So we left. We went the 15 or so miles to the next town, which has the same store which sells the ready made chilled meals that we exist on, but it was very sunny and hubby had forgotten to put the cool bag and ice packs in! So we left! Lol. Then we decided just to have a ride round for a bit, then we went home and saw to the dog who was crossing her legs, then we decided to go back to the first store. By now it was dinner time, and hubby just needed to buy something quickly for a meal. So he went in alone, not bothering to put my wheelchair together as well as his own as it was a bit of a rush by now!

So I failed to do what I wanted to do yesterday! We are planning to try again on Sunday!!  maybe choose a different time.

You are all so very kind. Ha ha I will let you know if I succeed on Sunday. Might even try tomorrow if we can! Sorry about the frozen Peas Gary xx

#FOWC. CHURLISH. And so I’m here now.

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FOWC with Fandango — Churlish

It happened this way.  You see, I was only turning the water off.  It was like this red mist came down in front of my eyes.  Next thing I knew, I’d thrown a telly out of the window. And Roy was being most CHURLISH because I’d turned his water off as well.  The stop tap was for his flat as well as mine.  But I was right mad, you see.  I don’t think I hit anyone with the telly.  But they took me to the police station, and put me in a cell for the night. I must’ve driven them mad ‘cos I sang hymns all night long.  In all different languages.  I bet they were pleased to be rid of me in the morning!  But then they brought me here.  Now I’m on drugs.  I sleep most of the day.  Don’t know when they’ll let me go home.

 

 

#Written for Fibbing Friday

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  1. What are Porkies, Chorkies and Morkies?https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2019/08/30/fibbing-friday-30th-august/

 

Porkies are the things that my doggie loves but they make her sick so we then end up with more Chorkies than usual (chores) but she still asks for Morekies (more)

 

 

  1. Why did the Wicked Witch of the West melt?

Because she forgot that she was made of wax, and went and stood near the fire to get warm

 

 

  1. Will Smith said ‘I’ve got to get me one of these’. What was he referring to?

 

A pair of binoculars that could see right round the town, because he was a nosey bugger

 

 

  1. Why aren’t dumb blondes quiet?

Because they squeak and squeal a lot when they break a nail but they don’t talk in sentences when they do so they’re still dumb

 

 

 

  1. Why do they call it ‘High Tea?’

 

Because gradually more and more tea shops are disappearing but there are a few on the tops of mountains that you can still visit

 

 

  1. What makes a banana split?

 

Practising to be a circus act

 

 

  1. What happened when the Princess kissed the frog for a second time?

 

She got a bit sick and turned green

 

  1. What goes best on rhubarb?

 

More rhubarb.

 

 

  1. How is the best way to serve coffee?

 

Dressed up in black skirt and white lacey hat (whichever sex you are)

 

 

  1. Why are rock buns so called?

 

Because they are as old as the hills and they love to rock to old records

 

CAPTIVE

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LAST NIGHT I FELL.  AFTER ALL THE HOPES AND DREAMS OF GOING SHOPPING AND BEING SOMEWHAT “NORMAL”, I FELL.  UPSTAIRS IN OUR HOUSE (we have a stair lift) WE DO NOT HAVE ROOM FOR TWO WHEELCHAIRS SO MY HUSBAND HAS ONE AS IF I LOSE HIM AS MY CARER WE ARE SNOOKERED.  HIS IS A MANUAL ONE WHICH I CANNOT MANAGE WITH MY ARMS.  AND LAST NIGHT I FELL.  I WAS USING TWO STICKS (canes) TO GO THE SHORT DISTANCE TO THE BATHROOM.  IT IS NOT FOR LACK OF WANTING TO DO THINGS THAT I DON’T DO THEM BUT BECAUSE OF PURE INABILITY.  I AM NOW DEALING WITH A LOT MORE PAIN PLUS FEAR OF FALLING AGAIN.

WE WILL GET OVER THIS AS WE GET OVER EVERYTHING.  WE HAVE NO HELP AS I WAS TOLD UPON APPLYING FOR SOME HELP DURING THE DAY, THAT I HAVE MY HUSBAND.  HE TOO CANNOT WALK AS HE HAS POST POLIO SYNDROME.  SO WE ARE LIVING VERY PRECARIOUSLY.  SOME OF MY POEMS EXPRESS THE DARKNESS THAT I FEEL OVER ALL OF THIS, AND THE FEAR TOO.  If my poems are sometimes dark, they reflect an appalling situation.

 

Wanting

With all my heart
To do the normal things
To be part of things once again
But I
Captive
To a body that holds me down
As firm as prison bars
Must learn the art
Of death
(The poem  refused to paste in its proper format)

 

 

 

MOURNING DOVE

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The mourning dove cried out one morn
And I cried too in loud lament
Such grief I knew, my heart was torn
The mourning dove cried out one morn
And as I cried I was forlorn
In agony my garments rent
The mourning dove cried out one morn
And I cried too in loud lament

FOR THE FIRST TIME

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For the first time in over a year I am hoping to go shopping.  It will take a mammothe effort, for, being both blind and wheelchair bound, and only having my husband to guide me who is also wheekchair bound, it will be a bit tricky.  But I am FED UP with not being in any sense “normal.”  Having been awake all night in pain I hope it will be alright.  I have felt I am going mad lately, being so isolated from life.  I just pray that all goes ok.  I get exhausted so quickly, so need all my inner strength.  Wish me wellL

THE BEGINNING

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SOME PEOPLE HAVE INDICATED THAT THEY WOULD LIKE ME TO TELL MY LIFE STORY.  SO, HERE IS THE BEGINNING THAT I HAVE FINALLY DECIDED ON.

 

Pear Tree Cottage. That was where I started my life’s journey. Although actually you could say that I began it in Woolworths, for that was where I began my entry into this world. Typical really. My mother never could keep out of shops. I think it is safe to say that wherever we were and whatever was happening in our lives, whether it be good, bad, or even devastating, my mother could be found in a shop. It didn’t matter what kind it was. It could be an ordinary Department Store, complete with lift and a voice announcing “Up” or “Down,” or it could be a hardware store or a bathroom store, but whatever, my mother would be there. Being rather partial to chocolate ginger, it would often be a sweetie shop. The most memorable one was a car shop. Well, you know what I mean. A place where they sold cars. Memorable because she got banned from the Ford Forecourt in our hometown because she kept ordering cars and then cancelling them. Always one for a bargain, if she thought a car was a particularly good buy, she would seal a deal on it, only to cancel a few days later. She enjoyed the cut and thrust of bargaining with the salesman, and was indeed very good at it. So much so that the poor salesmen were often left hardly knowing what had just happened or what they had just agreed to.

So, in a way it was no surprise that I began my journey into the world in Woolies. I am told that I didn’t take long. But once born, my life was then to begin at the rather romantically named Pear Tree Cottage. The only problem with Pear Tree Cottage was that it was in a village with no shops. And my mother and father’s lives could certainly not be called romantic. No. In fact, fighting was the name of the game. Real fighting with real fisticuffs.

#FOWC.IRREFUTABLE. Up Up and Away

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FOWC with Fandango — Irrefutable

 

It is absolutely IRREFUTABLE – I was born. Things might have gone  a bit off after that, but I was born, just like anybody else. The fact that I can levitate or be in two places at once is by the by, or that my father was a circus clown. It just means that my life was rather different. The fact that   people don’t believe me is a bit of a problem though.  Even when I show them a photograph of myself levitating they don’t believe be. Mind you, what can you expect from people who go in Nucton library? No imagination. Closed minds. But I tell you – it is true. I was dressed all in blue and gold robes at the time, it was a hot day, and there was rather a lot of incense around. Not to mention lots of wine. And there was a grand party afterwards. I didn’t really expect it to happen myself. But it did. But you see, even with the photograph no one believed me. The same with being able to be in two places at once. It’s got a proper name you know – bilocation.

I shouldn’t have told anybody about it really. I mean, if you are some kind of Saint it’s ok. It’s allowed. But not if you are plain ordinary Joe Bloggs. And that’s why I’m in here. They think I’m mad. But you just watch me next time we’re out in the exercise yard. Just a few quiet words with the One up there, and I’ll be up and away – floating right over that wall – up up and away. And you won’t see me for dust.

A HALF DECENT DEATH

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I POSTED THIS A LONG TIME AGO BUT WANTED TO POST IT AGAIN AS I  HAVE DIFFERENT FOLLOWERS NOW.

 

 

Don’t know why he had to go and do it. Die, I mean. He always did want revenge. All his life he’d been dying – then, he finally went and did it. Shocked us all, he did. Never thought he’d really do it. They were all the same in his family. Never did anything by halves – everything for maximum effect. Take his mother – woke up on Christmas morning, wished them all Happy Christmas, and then – died! Would you ever. She was another one – spent her life dying. When she did it seemed unreal – just like with him. My Dad, I mean.

Well, he just went off to the doctor’s one morning. Not for anything in particular. Never guessed he’d got this up his sleeve. It’s almost as if it was all planned. Only two days before, he’d said to me, “I’m going to die.” Well, tell us some real news, I thought. It’s just one of his games again. Stress, he said it was. Couldn’t take any more, he said. Any more of what?
I wonder how he managed to do it? I mean – it’s not easy to die to order.

The doctor wasn’t especially worried – just said he had a slight heart irregularity, so he was sending him into hospital as a precaution. Knowing my Dad I expect he was pleased as punch. The doctor told him to go home and pack a case; the ambulance would be there within the hour. I can just see him walking home with a spring in his step, dead chuffed. Bet it was the most sprightly he’d walked for years!

Packed his own things. My Mum just let him get on with it. After he’d walked into the ambulance carrying his case, my Mum rubbed her hands together. “Good,” she thought. “Now I can decorate his bedroom.” I didn’t know that until afterwards – but then she told me.

They hadn’t slept together for a long time. Right bone of contention that was. I remember taking him to the library with me one day. Had to get some books for my project on Victorian prostitutes. “I’ve not had sex since your brother was conceived,” he said. Well, my brother was forty two then. Hell of a long time to bear a grudge, I thought. Found it all a bit disgusting really. I didn’t want to know about that. I was driving my car at the time. What a way to trap somebody! I was forced to listen. I couldn’t put him out on the motorway. Motorways brought him out in a cold sweat when he was inside the car. God knows what it would have done if I’d put him outside of it. It might have killed him!

Anyway – next thing my Mum knew was that the consultant was ringing her from the hospital. “Does your husband always slur his speech?” he said.
“Well, not that I’ve noticed,” she said.
“Was he alright during the night?” he said. Well I mean – how could she answer that one? Honesty was the best policy, she thought.
“Oh I don’t know. I don’t sleep with him,” she said.

“We’ve got to do some tests,” the consultant said.
“We think he might have had a slight stroke in the ambulance.” Just like him, my Mum thought. He never could do anything by halves.

Ten days it took him to die. Took us all by surprise. I mean – he didn’t look too bad when we went to see him. Tried to write us messages. All wobbly they were, and in big letters. Wrote the same word over and over again, and then kept pointing to it. Some of the letters were missing. We had to guess what the word was.

He did try to speak – but he couldn’t. That was the first time I’d known him lost for words. He always had something to say on everything. And he always had to be right.
“They think I’ve had a stroke,” we managed to decipher. Well – it couldn’t be too bad if he could get that across.

Never thought he’d die! Silly old bugger. Why didn’t he fight a bit. But no. He’d been waiting for this chance all his life, and he wasn’t going to blow it now.

We did everything to try and make him live. Brought him food. Jam sandwiches. Those were his favourites. We should have known when he wouldn’t even eat them. And then when the Chaplain came in. I mean – my Dad was an atheist. “Don’t let no bloody parsons near me when I’m dead,” he used to say. But there’s no telling what you’ll do when you think you might be about to snuff it. You could see his eyes light up. He put his hand up to him and smiled at him. Wanted to speak to him – well, as much as he could. Maybe he was playing safe. Needed to be on the right side of God if he might be going to meet Him soon!

I’ll never forget one day. He wanted to go to the toilet. Well – what a palava. He could hardly get out of bed. The nurse came and helped him. I could tell he wasn’t really up to it. He was so weak. Why couldn’t they have got him a bedpan, I thought. Why did they force him to walk all that way? I was almost crying. You wouldn’t do that to an animal, I thought.

We sat there, silently. Then, all of a sudden, it happened. We heard a wailing and a shouting. A chill ran through me. It sounded like an animal. There was fear in the voice. And desperation. The wailing got louder. “WHAT THE……” And suddenly I knew. It was my Dad. I began to shake. What the heck is wrong? I thought. I started, as if to go to him. But suddenly there were all nurses there. He’d fallen off the toilet, and was on the floor in a corner behind the door, crying like a baby.

They got him back into bed. “We’re short-staffed,” the nurse said, brightly. “He’s alright.” My eyes looked into hers, screaming at her, “That’s my DAD. That’s my DAD.”

It was all downhill after that. Soon, they moved him into a side room. The blinds were pulled down. We had our privacy. Not that he did. He kept pulling the sheets down, exposing everything. “Eee, Eee,” he said, pointing to his nether regions.
“It’s alright,” we said. “You’ve got a bag.”
We pulled the sheets back over him – but he fought, insisting, “Eee, Eee.”

We couldn’t win. Gave up in the end. Let him lay there with it all hanging out. Wonder if it was the first time my Mum had seen it in forty two years? He started to get agitated. They came and gave him an injection. He calmed down. We knew this was it.

My Mum brought a tape recorder in. Played an Abba tape. He liked Abba. I got hold of his hand and danced at the side of the bed, and sang along. “Let’s have a party, Dad,” I said. He always did love a party.
He looked at me with a look in his eyes that said, “Yes – let’s.” It was as if, for one moment, he forgot he was dying. Seconds later, he fell into a deep sleep. Soon after that, it was all over. He died to the sounds of ‘Dancing Queen.’

My Mum still doesn’t know why he had to go and do it. “He should have fought,” she says, putting her fists up to heaven. Just like he did when she was about to go at the end of visiting time one day. And that about sums it up. They spent their whole lives fighting. Now, my Mum’s bereft. She’s got no-one to fight any more. Gone down to seven stone. Nothing to feed on. She’s fading fast. I’m waiting for the call.

THREE THINGS CHALLENGE 164

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https://lightmotifs.wordpress.com/2019/08/27/three-things-challenge-164/

It was a NIGHTMARE. I had never known such an itch in the whole of my life. It went the whole length of my body, from head to toe. At nights I went almost insane. No one knew what it was. Everything was tried, from creams to tablets, including along the way, OATMEAL baths. All that they did was clog the plughole up!

It went on for months. My body got weaker and weaker, until I could hardly move at all. Clothes were a definite no no. It was a mystery. I could get no rest at all. I thought I was going mad. Strange things appeared on my skin. It was scary. I took to the GIN. Even that didn’t help.

It wasn’t until later – much much later – that a diagnosis was made. Cancer. Lymphoma to be exact. Stage 111b.

“Will it kill me?” I asked the haematologist.

“It might,” he said. “I will never hide the truth from you.”

UNDER THE GLORIOUS WILLOW TREE

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Each day birds sit in the willow tree
Hidden behind leaves that give them cover
I too sit there on the green green grass
Listening to songs that stir my heart
There can be no better place on earth
No orchestra can match this beauty

Throughout my life I have seen such beauty
Much contained within a tree
Growing out of the soil of the earth
Many times I have taken cover
Here birdsong has often warmed my heart
Sunlight playing on the grass

Soft and luscious is the green grass
I swell with joy to know such beauty
Nothing can ever thrill my heart
Like the solid joys found under the tree
Now the gentle skies do cover
The glorious artistry on the earth

My soul is drawn towards the earth
And my body rests in the green green grass
Never do I want dark dreams to cover
Nature’s offering of such beauty
Displayed in love by the willow tree
That warms once more my longing heart

I learned when young about my heart
And felt my spirit join with the earth
As I played underneath  the willow tree
With chickens wandering in the grass
I felt I had never known such beauty
Was moved by the tree’s majestic cover

In darkened skies the trees now cover
The sadness carried deep in my heart
No longer can I see the beauty
Or walk in freedom on the earth
But still I can sit here in the green grass
Under the wonderful willow tree

I THOUGHT THERE WAS NO MUSIC

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I thought there was no music
Something wasn’t right,
I thought there was no music
The sun was shining bright,
I thought there was no music,
There was no sound in the air,
I thought the was no music,
All was stripped and bare,
I thought there was no music,
Everything seemed dark,
I thought there was no music,
In my heart I felt so stark
But suddenly, there came a sound,
There it was again,
On the airwaves, loud and clear,
I heard the angels sing

COLOURS OF YOUR HEART

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What are the colours of your heart?
Some of them are hidden from view,
Actions denote what I can’t chart

Like the kingfisher your eyes will dart
Showing colours I never knew
What are the colours of your heart?

Days end now and new ones start
On the grass I see morning dew
Actions denote what I can’t chart

Birds sing loud, I do my part
Though with my eyes I see colours few
What are the colours of your heart?

Many truths there are to impart
Through colours that help me to get through
What are the colours of your heart?
Actions denote what I can’t chart

THE OLD WOODEN SEAT

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I pass by the old wooden seat on the hill
Now covered in weeds as is my life
But memory takes me back
To times past spent
To more flowery days
Heady with scent
The wild rose bloomed
Pale in its pinkness
Delicate in its stature
Its smell wafting in the hot night air
And here
You told me
The names of all the flowers
Growing wild and free
In dresses of different colours
Ladies Fingers
My childish mind wondered how
Did the fingers of ladies
Get there
Violets in purple
And stately campions
Dominating the show
Demanding attention
But now the flowers are no more
And neither too shall I be
But as I looked with tear in eye
I swear
I saw the seat wink

GOODBYE

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And now as I say “Goodbye”
My heart shakes my knees tremble
Nausea rises in my throat
As if to vomit out the pain of your rejection
And yet…….
I hold on
Afraid to let out what must come out
For a hysteria hits my soul
As if I will scream for ever
A pain too terrible for words
For you were my family and
Toxic though you were
We share blood together
A bond that can never be broken
A tie that can never truly be untied
And that is why
Saying “Goodbye”
Shakes the whole of my being
But in the end
You too
Said “Goodbye”
When I was on the ground
Pushed there by your cruelty
For there is no other word
Giving to you again and again
From my heart’s bounty
For you to smash against the wall
The offering of my love
Eternally

THEFT

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There were no boundaries for you,
Not even to my soul,
You stole it and made it yours,
And fed upon its lifeblood,
You climbed upon it,
Entered in,
Took from it all you could,
And now I’m dead and you will live,
Thriving on stolen goods.

#FOWC. High Falutin. JUDGE NOT

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FOWC with Fandango — Highfalutin

Liz was not used to this. She had entered a world that was foreign to her. The posh accents gave it away. And the constant references to money. There certainly was no lack of it there. And they were so HIGH FALUTIN. Liz recoiled from it. It seemed unreal. She could never attain to anything like that. She came from humble circumstances, but she was glad of it. She’d had to struggle for everything that she had. But she was not materialistic at all. She valued the simple things in life, and the inner qualities that hard work brings.

She had to visit the house quite often, to drop off some documents. She always got invited in for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. It was then that she discovered the truth. His father had been a heavy drinker and smoker, drinking and smoking away all the money. His mother too, was not happy unless she had a bottle of gin in her hand. They were constantly in debt, and one day the bailiff came and took everything, even his toys. There was nothing left in the house.

“I learned to smile from the dog,” he said.

Liz learned never to judge anyone again.

I SIT

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CAN’T REMEMBER IF I’VE POSTED THIS BEFORE OR NOT BUT ANYWAY…….

I sit today
By the wooden bridge
Looking into the beyond
New worlds awaiting
Stripped of all that I ever knew
Spent of all emotion
Except grief
But soon that too
Must go
The past obliterated
From mind and heart
I sit today
By the old wooden bridge
Peeling off my skin
But is that enough?
I wish
To take out my heart
Wash it clean
Make it new
I wish today
To forget
The knives that twist and turn
The people
Who torment
My very soul
I sit today
By the old wooden bridge
The rooks gather
Cawing incessantly
Soon they will be a black cloud
I pray
For the black cloud
To gather up the dross
The black cloud in me

WATCH ME RISE

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Last night you tried to cage me in
Put prison bars around me
Define me as you wanted to
I don’t live in boxes

Put prison bars around me
I will break them all
I don’t live in boxes
Defy your definitions

I will break them all
Smash them on the ground in pieces
Defy your definitions
You cannot bind my soul

Smash them on the ground
Watch me rise from bondage
You cannot bind my soul
For I know how to fly

Watch me rise from bondage
Strong wings bearing me
For I know how to fly
Last night you tried to cage me in

SONG FROM THE GROUND

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A REPOST:

She was well acquainted with the ground,
Mostly, it was all she could see,
Though now, even that was simply black,
She scrabbled daily with her raw bare hands,
She tried to cry with her voice,
But now her voice was gone.

Everything in her life had gone,
All she had now was the ground,
If only someone had heard her voice
And seen that she could not see,
Touched her with their hands
Pierced her world of black

She groped around in the black,
Her dignity now was gone,
Bleeding were her hands,
As she dragged them along on the ground,
How she longed to see,
For someone to hear her voice

She used to sing with her voice,
Now her songs were black,
Not only could she not see,
Her walking now was gone,
Knocked down onto the ground
She reached out with her hands

She still could use her hands
Though weak now was her voice
No one looked down on the ground
Left her there in the black
All her friends were gone
Now that she could not see

But wait……she above all could see
And touch now with her hands
That place which had never gone
She sang now with her voice
A song that was no longer black
From her place down on the ground

Down on the ground she reached out with her hands,
For she could no longer see, weak now was her voice
But she sang out loud in the black, for heaven had never gone

#FOWC. Snide. The Accident

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FOWC with Fandango — Snide

“It was all Geoff’s fault anyway,” he said, sitting back on the settee like he was some sort of lord. “He drives too slowly, it causes accidents.”

Helen’s anger rose, but she was a very controlled kind of person. Kept her feelings hidden much of the time. This SNIDE comment however was to come back and haunt her for many months. She was not in a position to respond anyway, as she was in shock from a terrible accident that she had just been in. She and Geoff had been travelling along a busy road in the dark, and the rain was coming down. A huge highly illuminated lorry had stopped and parked at the side of the road, and Geoff had to overtake it. He slowed down, then very carefully set off past the lorry. The next thing that they knew was that a pair of headlights was careering towards them. There was nothing that Geoff could do. Suddenly the headlights mounted the driver’s side of the car. There was no time to think, except that this was it. They were going to die. Just as suddenly, however, something deflected the careering vehicle and it rolled off Geoff’s car and onto the other side of the road, landing on its roof.

Helen and Geoff could hardly believe what had just happened. There had been nothing coming when Geoff had set off to overtake the lorry. Suddenly there were people all around the car, and someone rang the police. Other people went to the car that was on its roof.

The police soon arrived, and after asking a few questions, told Helen, who had recently been very ill, that she was free to go home, as she needed her medication. Geoff rang Helen’s brother Pete, and asked him if he would come and pick up Helen and take her home. Geoff himself had to stay with his car until everything had been completed by the police. His car was undriveable, and so he would have to arrange for a taxi to take him home.

Pete was not the brother that Helen knew, when he arrived at the scene. He seemed angry, but then he had been showing signs of anger just lately. No one knew why. But she had not expected him to be as cold and unhelpful as he was. Once he hd got Helen home, he seemed to be in a raging fury. Following making the snide remark, he launched into a full scale attack on Geoff. It was obvious that he had been harbouring resentful feelings towards Geoff for some time. But what a moment to show it, with Helen sitting there shaking and in shock.

He informed Helen that he was moving away, and that there was nothing worth staying in the town for. Helen could hardly believe her ears, and the uncouthness in his manner and his voice. She decided, shocked though she was, to take charge, and ordered Pete out of the house, telling him he was never to speak about her husband like that again.

3 Things Chaallenge 160

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https://lightmotifs.wordpress.com/2019/08/23/three-things-challenge-160/

I remember the colour the most
A colour out of this world
And shoes dyed the same
I, only tiny, a bridesmaid
Such an occasion
I hardly knew you
But you were to be my Aunt
We never called you that
In all sincerity
We could not call you that
For Aunt you did not wish to be
You boasted all your cakes were made of butter
Whilst ours were made of margarine
I tried, I really did
To make you my Aunt
But always we could not match you
And now you are alone
Despite all we care
And want you
To be our Aunt

WILD PLACE

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Wild place
You minister
To me, washing away
the soil Of vain accusations
Lashing
My face
Like the surgeon’s knife cutting out
The diseased parts that sting
From the harsh words
Spoken

The wind
Blows gently now
Soothing the raw places
Opening up the way for tears
Salty
Healing
I bathe in their pool, my wounds cleansed
Vulnerable I sit
My soul open
To grief

#3TC from Paula Light. Creep wish soup

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https://lightmotifs.wordpress.com/2019/08/22/three-things-challenge-159/

He had seemed such a nice bloke. Very upper class, but nice. At first I felt a little in awe of him, but he made me feel so comfortable. His clothes were not ordinary and he spoke differently, but in an attractive kind of way. It was obvious that his lifestyle was very different to mine, and as he drew closer and closer to me, in our conversations, I became magnetised. His lifestyle seemed glamorous, in an understated kind of way, and the closer he got the more curious I became. How did the other half live? I wanted to know.

He had a wife – but she was almost like a ghost. Kind of non existent. Blending into the background. She’d had a kind of breakdown many years previous, and now, she kept going by taking drugs. Calmed her down, he said. But she bored him.

“Sex always had to be very respectable,” he said. I wondered what unrespectable sex was, to him. She seemed to irk him, though he had to humour her. Called each other “Darling.” All very strange to me.

“We never come into contact,” he said, “but we get together over the evening News.” It soon turned out that she had removed himself from his bed many years ago. Just upped and went in the middle of the night one time.

I got invited to dinner one day. It was a surprise. He’d kind of hinted at it, but I’d never really expected it. I wasn’t sure what to expect in this high class place, but it turned out to be nothing out of the ordinary. Soup first, with a sandwich, then a pudding of stewed fruit. I got invited a lot after that. Got to know all their secrets. It was hard to get to know her, but it was his wish that we came together.

“She’ll make a good ally,” he said. “Very loyal. She’d even cover up for me in a crime.”

Strange how normal he made it all seem. There’d been a murder there many years previous. He’d stated that he wasn’t living there at the time. But she told me different. The atmosphere in the place had been very tense, as mothers were taking their children to school. It was a young woman who had been murdered, but many of the mums and children had to pass by the murder spot in order to get to the school.

I did question it a bit in my mind, but kind of let it go in the end. Until one day. He came towards me with a sickly smile on his face, obviously with one thing on his mind. I rebuffed him, and he became angry. I was determined to bring him down to size.

“Go away you creep,” I shouted. He was taken aback. He had thought he had got me, but I kneed him in the groin, then turned, and fled.

WORLD IN MOTION

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I don’t know what happens after we die – whether or not there is a life of some kind after death. I know what we are taught, but my faith does not stretch to believing or knowing for sure that it will be as they tell us it will be. Ashes to ashes dust to dust seems to be apt, to me. But I wrote this poem anyway, not knowing the truth about anything, except that we live, and we die.

The world is in motion
Nothing still
As the Dance goes on
Weaving
Gliding
Twisting
Forming patterns like the crystals of a snowflake
Painting pictures
Creating stories
Dying
Birthing
Re-creating
Is there really a time for everything
Or is everything in its time?
And is there a difference?
Soon, time will be no more
The Dance will end
As eternity calls
The picture will be complete
But how will the story end?
As eternity calls
A new book will be opened
A book called “The Book of Life”
And in this book
A day will be like a thousand years
And a thousand years like a day
And here, there will be no endings
Or even beginnings