Life used to be fast
Before I was stripped laid low
Now it is humdrum

Each day is the same
Excitement is not my lot
Sometimes my mind goes

Absent Without Leave
What is life without a mind?
I better find it

Ah, I found it here
In the middle of WordPress
Amongst my good friends


To wake to the growing light
In the shadow of yesterday’s pain
Breathing fresher air
With hope for a clear day
Is a joy unknown to those
Whose path is bright
And as the new day comes to birth
So does my soul awake
Knowing well the treasures
Of the darkened path
And the potential for the redemption
Of each piercing pain
Though this path is hard
It cannot destroy the valiant soul
And one day we will wake
To an endless day
Where pain is no more
And tears do not ceaselessly flow
Where pure peace is our reward
O march on valiant souls
Your day will come


Touch me
With your wildness
The rhythm of your life
But wild
Stir me up
And dance with me
In the wild anger
The wild joy
The wild compassion
That seeks souls
Shout with me
About injustice
And innocent blood shed
Take me to the mountains
The high places
The rocks
Where wildness finds its home
Oh wildness
Touch me
Take me


I looked round today and
all I saw was ash,
The ash of my life, spent,
The flame gone out, dead dreams on the ground in rubble.

The scene was bleak, my eyes
Beheld no beauty,
All was ugly, spent now,
I stood there stripped, knowing I could not pick up ash.

Dreams disintegrated,
Hope gone for ever,
Nothing to re-ignite,
Barrenness was my empty companion today.

But suddenly I heard
A voice, saying “Sing,”
What song could I sing now,
Here in this strangest of strange lands, alien now?

The voice insisted, “Sing”
I opened my mouth,
But no sound would come out,
“ Tell me how to sing,”
“Caged birds can sing, but you don’t have a cage, just sing.”

I looked around again,
I couldn’t see ash,
I saw the makings of
A new world, building bricks,
Beauty from ashes, I opened my mouth and sang.



My father was a very talented man despite being a terrible rogue. He was a Script Writer and Produced his own shows. He ran a concert party called The Catherine Wheels. Even as a child I had a part in them. On one famous occasion I was a wicked gnome and I had to give the most evil cackle that I could muster up. I tell you, it did end up as formidably evil.

There was always a wonderful SCENE at the end when the whole Cast came on stage and sat around singing wonderful songs and my father would do a solo and I would do one too. We had the most beautiful costumes on and it was done under florescent lighting which was spectacular.


At this point I am not coping with blindness coupled with immobility and constant pain. Looking at blackness all day from my bed is driving me crazy. I have listened to that many audible books and have run out of decent ones. I feel like I am in a tomb. I am only able to write little bits at a time and I wanted to get my book done. I never see anybody or talk to anybody because of the virus. I think I am going stir crazy.


Outside the church the tall oak stood
Centuries old this ancient wood
So much life it had seen pass by
Never asking the question why
Though much had died in life’s deep flood

Springtime saw the tree in bud
Life rising now that felt so good
Raptors dancing in the sky
Outside the church

Life’s pain is never understood
If only like the birds we could
Fly up in the sky so high
Letting out a joyful cry
Free from sorrows sinking mud
Outside the church


May there be a song one day that I sing
Rising above all the pains of this life
As beautiful as the birdsong in Spring
Tears having washed away all of my grief
One day may colours come live in ny heart
Though my eyes cannot see them they’re still there
Dispel the darkness tear the veil apart
This, my Love now is my deep heartfelt prayer
Colour my world with a rainbow of love
Letting me know that my life is worthwhile
Give me the Spirit of peace like the dove
Let me again know and feel your warm smile
When all things in the Spring blossom and bloom
Make me one with Nature, singing its tune


I have been struggling. Suddenly, after having tried, for so long to keep my head above water, I sank. I could see no reason to go on. I still wrote poetry, waiting for the darkness to pass. Exhaustion hit me. I cried a lot. I slept a lot. I walk a fine line. We are still isolated. Everything lost its meaning the other day. It is back now and I hope it stays.


Helena woke up groaning, her eyelids unable to open for the matter that was sticking them down. Not that it would have made any difference if she had been able to open them, for she still would not have been able to see. She almost screamed in pain as she attempted too twist her body round so that she could get her legs into a position where she could get out of bed. She felt a blackness inside as she felt for the doorway of the bedroom through which she could get out onto the landing and thence into the bathroom, a task which was rather difficult, given that she was holding onto a walking frame at the same time. Her head was reeling. Why did she have to live another day.

Once in the bathroom, first of all she crashed into the sink, having become disorientated, and then could not find the toilet. She had not got the luxury of a white cane, with having to hang onto a walking frame with both hands. Eventually she found the toilet and lowered herself painfully onto it. As she sat there, all she could see in front of her was blackness. She could not see the sink or the bath When she eventually got to the sink, she found that her flannel had been moved from its usual place by her husband, and neither could she find the plug to put in the sink. Wobbling perilously she managed to wash, but only by hanging onto her walking frame with her right hand. After washing she made her painful way back to the bedroom. Once there she had to lie on the bed in utter exhaustion, her heart beating so fast in her breast. She was struggling to breathe and her whole body was trembling with the effort of just performing those simple tasks, but this was how it was every day and in her exhaustion she began to sob. She still had not done her teeth and would have to go back and do them when her breathing had settled down. She contemplated her life for the umpteenth time and felt there was no reason to live any more. Staring at blackness all day, being unable to walk and being at someone else’s mercy all the time was driving her slowly insane. It was not that she was old, but simply that she had been hit by a dreadful disease.


Soft streams of gentleness flow
To comfort those who weep
Bathe in their healing waters
That disturb your grieving soul
Let them caress you tenderly
Bind your wounds
Kissing you with deepest love
Oh yes
There is love for you
Love too deep for words of poetry
Only the waters can heal you
We were meant for the water
Conceived in the wetness of Divine Waters
Bathe your body and your soul
Gently in the waters
Oh my child
Be healed


In evening’s breeze You come to me
Caressing my face with tenderness
Cooling the passions that none can see

From all earth’s pain I would be free
And all of my soul’s heaviness
In evening’s breeze You come to me

I sit beside the willow tree
For You to fill my emptiness
Cooling the passions that none can see

I wondered if truly I could be
Given light in my distress
In evening’s breeze You came to me

My soul was healed, together we
Entwined our hearts forever blessed
In evening’s breeze You came to me
Cooling the passions that none can see

Real Deal

This poem has a cutting clarity that we should all heed. Thank you Ana.
Please put your comments and likes on Ana’s blog rather than mine. Thank you

Troubador of Verse

(Why do we bother to enact elder harassment laws, disabled harassment laws, female discrimination laws, laws against domestic terrorism and hate crimes if we are not going to enforce them?In the case of this poet’s targeting, every last one of these enhancements apply.

The poet does not include here her donations link for money because what she needs right now goes by a different name. Justice.

For a homeless, jurisdictionless woman, burdened as well with what she has recently discovered to be the kind of almost completely fictionallegal record too tragically typical in our low income demographics both urban and rural ~ and bringing a complaint against yet another jurisdictionless individual ~ her chances of escaping any sort of court appearance without finding herself remanded to some “assistive” institution are slim indeed.

“Assistive” institutions require the relinquishment of their indwellers’ most basic civil rights.The right to…

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They were all gone
Berries plump with new life
Already their life had journeyed
Plucked from
Green tree
As the summer sun died in skies
Now grey, winter waiting
Offstage, while birds
Feast, store……

To see them through
Dark days and raging storms
We too have a banquet prepared
Take, eat,
The delights there for the taking
Your soul
And live through the darkest of nights
Sustained by Love offered
Freely, just take
And live


Last night at around 1 am we were in bed when we suddenly heard three loud bangs that sounded like gun shots from the street outside. Alarmed, my husband got out of bed to see what was happening. As he looked out of the window he saw a white car parked on the road and a man coming round the corner and then walking up our road and to the white car. He pulled the driver out of the drivers seat and then he knocked him down onto the ground. The man was unable to get up off the ground and he laid there for a while as if he was unconscious. Eventually however the man managed to get to his feet but was staggering. He attempted to get back to the drivers seat of his car but he fell to the ground again.

My husband shouted at me to ring the emergency services and to get the police and an ambulance. As my husband has a speech impediment and was trying to relay to me what was happening it was very difficult. However I did manage to ring emergency services and ask for police and an ambulance. I was passed to the police who immediately told me to ring an ambulance. I was passed to the ambulance people, but they told me to go to the police. I was bounced between police and ambulance and neither of them would agree to come. Meanwhile the man who had been knocked to the ground managed to get back into his car and drive slowly off.

We have no idea at all what was happening, but it was very frightening as you can imagine. I felt very frightened because there was so much shouting and it sounded as though there was a gang outside but it turned out to be only two men. I was upset that neither the police nor an ambulance would come. After the car drove away all was quiet again.


On the horse’s back I rode
Down lanes close to my old abode
It seemed like scenes from yesteryear
I felt the falling of a tear
Soon my grief flowed

As darkness fell the cock crowed
In my heart I bore a load
Here were those things that I held dear
On the horse’s back

High in the sky the moon glowed
In the byre the cattle lowed
Now there is no place for fear
The past is very very near
When so much joy was on me bestowed
On the horse’s back


I have posted this before but it’s about my best friend from when I lived in Derbyshire

I saw her last week, my friend,
Every time she stuns me,
They have called her mad you know.

She sees with eyes that others do not have,
Her insight knows no bounds,
Her intellect so keen,
She always has an answer for the wise guys.

I saw her today, my friend,
Still, she stuns me,
Still she sees with eyes that others do not have,
Still her insight knows no bounds,
Still her intellect is keen
And still she has an answer for the wise guys.

But today, she dies,
Today she is mad with pure clarity,
Such that her mind cannot bear.

I raise my glass to my friend,
The one I thought I knew,
And toast her brilliance
So bright as to scorch
And sear her very soul.

I am the one who is mad,
She the pure prophet.

She’s gone now, my friend,
You know, the one who is mad,
They took her away one night,
Fingers flicking light switch,
On, Off, On, Off,
Signalling in code,
“Help me, Help me, Help me”.

No one heard, because of course,
She’s mad.
No one heard the sacred
Screaming out from the deep,
Because of course she sees,
With eyes that are her own,
The truth that others cannot bear,
And neither maybe, can she.

She’ll be back soon,
Will she still see, with eyes that are her own,
The truth that others cannot see,
That drove her to her fate?

Beside me now,
That once she gave to me,
That tells me of her soul.
I finger it in awe,
Tears fall slowly,
I caress the truth,
Her clarity,
And cannot bear the pain
Of my love,
Or hers.


I said “Goodbye” to my friend,
I was moving on,
We hugged and kissed,
Her eyes were bright,
Her love intact,
She was quite “normal” now,
But behind the “normality”
I saw Hope shining,
The Hope that looked like madness.