Today she ran out of ink
Her well had dried up
Her hand lay limp at her side
Just like the brain in her head
Who was going to fill her well?
Her gaze hit the floor

Her dreams lay on the floor
Pictures not drawn in ink
Her life had not gone well
How could those dreams rise up?
What could she do with her head
Put everything aside?

She had nothing left inside
But plenty on the floor
Looking up at her head
Thirsty for some ink
Didn’t the devil do well?
How could the fragments get up?

Something told her she had to buck up
Lift her hand up from her side
Take a drink from the well
Picking things up from the floor
Riding on the fountain’s head
Ready to write in ink

Things have to be written ink
In letters that stand up
Words not just from the head
But from the heart that beats inside
Refreshed by the drink from the well
Rising up from the floor

Now there is nothing on the floor
Not even spilled ink
Magical was the well
Lifting her spirits up
Now she’s back on the right side
Everything’s right in her head

The fountain’s head gives life to the ink
That once was on the floor looking up
At the hand lying limp at her side un


The night is getting darker now, I yearn
For things that once I loved and held so dear
In light and glory once they helped me learn
To see in them Your face , then it was clear
I speak of simple things that shone with light
A flash of colour on the swallow’s wing
The kingfisher so brilliant when in flight
The blackbird that I heard so sweetly sing
But now a veil has come across my eyes
I see only dark shapes so indistinct
But from the gloom such memories arise
In my blind eyes I now perceive a glint
My night is turned to day, I see the sun
The light eternal for all time to come.


A mysterious bang sounded last night. I was awoken at three o’ clock in the morning by the hugest bang I have ever heard. It wounded to be coming from above and as if something huge and heavy had landed on our roof. It shook the bedroom wall. I had no idea what it was, and there are no signs of anything this morning. My husband slept through it but her sleeps through anything. He wondered if it was a sonic boom but we are in a town and planes are not supposed to break the sound barrier over towns. It was not an explosion or we would have heard about it. It just sounded as if it had landed on our roof but we have no chinmey stack or anything. It is a mystery.


Shine, shine dark eyes although you cannot see,
Bright gems of light blazing in anguished soul,
Not even blindness can put out the light in me.
How many times from prison bars did you break free?
Living though dying, this always was your goal,
Shine, shine dark eyes although you cannot see.
Whatever life could throw, you fought to be
Victorious over even death bell’s deafening toll
Not even blindness can put out the light in me.
These eyes so dark now, just like ebony,
That sickness from them once the blinding light stole
Shine, shine dark eyes although you cannot see.
Come with Your light eternal, Lord, that we
Might walk together, towards that glorious goal
Not even blindness can put out the light in me.
Together as we walk we’ll make the darkness flee
Nothing can ever quench the light, we can be whole,
Shine, shine dark eyes although you cannot see


I dream
Tonight of light
As yet unseen to shine
Into the unknown tomorrow
The gate
To a new world shining with stars
To guide us on our way
Pierce my darkness

It’s like saying “Goodbye world”
Going blind
A fading
A waning
A disappearing
Trying to hang on
You find yourself losing your grip
No control
Let go
Say “Goodbye”
Even voices become fainter
People you know
You know no more
And they don’t know
But hang on
You have a new world
A new world glowing
In the dark
Hello new world


Taking life
To where they will
Strong soles holding on
Along rugged pathways
Onto the highest mountains
Alongside streams in greenest fields
Never giving up keeping going
Soon will be the time to rest satisfied


There upon the hill you stood
Long years you had been there
Solid steadfast smiling too
Ready to receive me
In the fields I frolicked watched
The chickens running there
Sat amongst the apple trees
Heard wood pigeons call
Felt the warmth of summer’s sun
Playing in the sand pit
Rode on tractor’s worn old seat
Inhaled the smell of diesel
Listened to the radio
Crackling every night
Smelled the smell of pipe tobacco
Sitting by the fire
Slept in grandma’s feather bed
Silent till the morning
Then I woke began to sing
Knowing in this happy place
I was safe for ever


Within truths
Hidden from wise
Learned ones acclaimed
By a world led astray
Seduction the enemy
Of the purity of intent
Sucked into a maelstrom of deceit
Death comes to those who would make themselves large



They cannot comprehend
How can anyone right these wrongs
A clear cut message send?

They cannot comprehend
Their power crazed eyes are blind,
No mercy can they find,
A clear cut message send

Their power crazed eyes are blind,
They don’t even want to know,
A clear cut message send,
May understanding grow.

They don’t even want to know,
One day the scales may fall
May understanding grow
And justice come to all.

One day the scales may fall,
The truth begin to dawn,
And justice come to all,
A great new world be born.

The truth will begin to dawn,
Mercy will fill the earth,
A great new world be born,
The world looks different from the ground.

Lord have mercy!


Cradled in the arms of the night
The child assaulted, beaten, torn
She rests from the arrows of the fight

Vulnerable, this her plight
Waiting fot the coming dawn
Cradled in the arms of the night

Many cannot bear the sight
Of pain in the one who thus was borne
She rests from the arrows of the fight

Everyone talks about the light
Not seeing the pain within her form
Cradled in the arms of the night

None can understand the fright
Of the one that is lying so forlorn
She rests from the arrows of the fight

Alone this being feels the might
Of evil’s grip, in the gathering storm
Cradled in the arms of the night
She rests from the arrows of the fight


My soul
This day rejoiced
Suddenly you appeared
Shocked me as I sat there silent
A gift
You bore
Greater than you could ever know
For you knew not my pain
My emptiness
My grief

The love
Inside the gift
Touched my empty places
Filled to overflowing
My cup I drank deep of the joy
Could you
Know how such a small simple thing
Could lift me from despair
Set me flying
Once more


Weekend Writing Prompt #314 – Clockwork

The plan had to work like clockwork. It would be no good being too late or too early. Ben set off for the newsagents every morning at eight sharp. They would have to ambush him. They were ready with the flour and the eggs. It would serve him right. He had been a bully at school but now he was going to get his come uppance. He was in for a big shock. He had got away with it until now. But now was the hour. What a shock he would get especially as it was his birthday tomorrow.


The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 3, 2023

Being left alone can be either a good thing and desirable or a bad thing causing pain and suffering. Often I desire to be left alone since I never have time to myself. I long to be alone with myself and to be able to listen to my own inner voice instead of having to listen to the clamour of others. I am watched over all of the time, and am not independent, being blind and disabled, which, by the way is a word that I hate. I do not see myself as disabled but it is a word that others use to describe me. I am a person like anyone else, and not a child to be petted or talked down to. If anyone meets me they will find that they are in contact with a strong force. It may be surprising to them. I woould love to be just taken to some wild place and left alone to just be quiet. A need space. Time to be in contact with nature and ti feel the wind on my face and the sun on my arms. I would not want anyone near me at all. Just me and the buzzards. I wish I could soar high into the sky like them. Instead I am tied to this bed. I remember the times when I was free and long to have those times back again. I remember being up mountains although I also remember Scafell Pike, the highest mountain in England, being like Piccaadilly Circus. Talk about crowded. We climbed it on a sunny day in May, and a lady aged seventy overtook us. It was the third time she had climbed Scafell Pike that year. We took eight hours to get to the top and back but we kspt stopping and enjoying the view. We ate on top of the mountain but I had forgotten to pack the tins of fish and so all that we had was bread and tomatoes. Still, it sufficed. We had fish and chips when we got back down the mountain. We vowed to do it again one day but we never did. I still go back there in my mind, remembering from my bed. I have some good memories. Sometimes I dread being left alone. I dread my husband dying as I have no family, my family having run away when I got cancer and became blind and immobile. I think it frightened them because they might be like me one day. It hurts when your family rejects you though, especially at Christmas. We are always left alone at Christmas. I hate that, knowing that everyone else is in families. I do like my own space though, and do appreciate that. I was once left alone when I was a child. I had the mumps and my mother went out shopping leaving me in the flat alone. The doctor had given me some pretty lime green medicine and it was very sweet and lovely. When my mother went out and left me I got the bottle of medicine out of the sideboard and drank it. I can still taste it today. Fortunately it did me now harm. At least I don’t think it did. Maybe that is why I am bananas today, but who knows? I often think that I do not know anything at all but sometimes I think that I know a lot. I have a little garden gnome that my mother bought me that has the words on it, “Go away.” I think that he wanted to be left alone. My mother is dead now. So is my Dad. So iin a way I have been left alone. You know, when you put a victoria sponge into the oven to bake, you have to leave it alone without opening the oven door or it will not rise. The temptation is always there to open the oven door and take a peek at it. But it has to be left alone or it sinks in the centre. I love victoria sponge but it makes you fat.


Already the tree is stripped bare,
Grey fills the air,
The whole world seems to be yawning,
Everything is coming to rest,
Waiting to be adorned
With the lacy patterns of winter,
Frozen in time,
To everything there is a time,
And a purpose,
I hear the words once again,
“Come to me
All you who are heavy laden
And I will give you rest”
And now
Exhaustion creeps upon
The ones that were heavy with a fullness
Designed for that time alone,
Berries, fruits, wheat in the fields,
But now the grey is yawning,
The Long Sleep approaches


I got behind again because of what happened with that weird blogger who did queer things on my blog. It really got to me. I know it should not have, and that I may look weak, but when you are vblind and struggling to navigate anyway and something like that happens it throws you. It upskittled me and I had to almost stop posting for a day or two. That meant that I did not respond to comments again either. As I am only able to do things for a small part of the day due to illness, things got into a real mess inside my head. Anyway whoever that person was they have gone now, unless they morph into someone else. That person claimed to have COPD and to be really ill and afraid but she had not posted about her fear. She said that because I was able to post about my fear it gave her the courage to do so also. I read the post she made on her blog and responded. Being a very open and trusting soul who cares for others I was taken in. She said so many things and got really close to me but all her posts on her blog were absolutley choc a bloc full of Bible texts, like I mean every other sentence. Very very long posts. I did not read them all as they were not my cup of tea.

It really did shake me up and I got scared that it might be someone who knew me here where I live. So I did not come to my blog so much.

Anyway I am back properly now. I hope we can have some fun now. And of course one or two more serious posts. Thankyou all for supporting me when I told you about it.


I ate lots of chocolate ginger lol. There used to be a wonderful shop in Harrogate where they sold lots of different kinds of chocolates. I loved the very dark chocolates. My favourite was chocolate ginger and my mother introduced me to these as we used to live in Harrogate. I would travel miles in later life just to get to that shop and the chocolate ginger. Do you like chocolate ginger?

#FOWC – Jittery

FOWC with Fandango — Jittery

She didn’t know why she felt JITTERY but she did. She did this so often. Feeling her way, placing her hands on the door post, feeling for the wall. She had to be careful, and not veer to the left, but she was disorientated in the blackness. If she moved too far to the left she would fall down the stairs. She felt for another door post. She began to wobble. Her body was almost letting her down now. Pain shot through her and she winced. She must not fall. She must not. She felt for another doorpost. Was this it? Was this the bathroom? She felt for the radiator. It was summer so at least it was not boiling hot. Then she crashed into the sink. Damn. Where the hell was the thing? Oh, there it is. She sat down gratefully. She had managed it once again.


All night I waited
Sleep took its flight
Beside me the sound of your breathing
Rising and falling
Like the waves of the sea
All night I waited
For you to wake
Holding my breath
Did you stir
When will the dawn come
Bringing a light I cannot see
How dark is this night
How heavy ny heart
Laden with grief
The sorrow of a lifetime
I wait for the morning


Today the fountain sprang
From deep within the earth
Singing its unique song to me
Uniting with the mountain streams of my past
Each with its own harmonies
Not confined to time or space
Singing a song forever new
Forever old
Bringing to birth a fresh song
Springing like the fountain
From the depths of my being
A song of joy that never
Did I sing before


Wheat fields
You undress me
Stripping me of falsehoods
That invaded my wounded soul,
Me then
In the pure white of my childhood
When joys were young and blithe
Dancing and free

My soul this day
Throw away all the chains
That kept in place the clothes of black
That seemed
So white
And now keep me safe for ever
Entwined in innocence
Like spotless lamb
Take me


I have to admit that the day before yesterday I was very spooked by the blogger who changed her name three times in one day and then disappeared as did her blog. It troubled me a lot yesterday. On the morning of the day on which she did this, she had put a very very long post on her blog, Faith Alive concerning spirityality and about life being a journay and said that there is only one way and that is Jesus Christ. She stated that it is very simple and that all we are told to do is follow Him, meaning Jesus Christ. I knew that she had taken mych of her splurge about spirituality from things she had read on my blog. I did not Like that post because I did not like it. I do not believe in that sort of thing, and in my experience which is very great, as I am now in my dotage according to some, those who espouse such ideas are often dangerous. To be so rabid is dangerous and I avoid people like that. I think I had said something about “religious nuts” in a recent post and this may have set her off. Still, there was no need to spook me like that as a result of what was perhaps a badly chosen phrase. I still feel spooked, and as a result awoke early this morning from a most terrible nightmare. I do not for the life of me know how someone can change their neame twice in a day as it is not an easy thing to do. But then to delete the blog as well, and to leave a message that this blog is no longer available is just odd after what had happened. I may be stupid to have felt this so deeply, but it did catch me on the raw. Whilst I do genuinely wish this person peace, I have been very disturbed. This was a person who trued to get close to me as soon as she arrived on my blog and I have no idea where she came from or how she found my blog. But anyway, I hate it when people just arrive and immediately start getting up close. The nightmare that I had last night was terrible because of my past experience of people like this. One day I will tell the story. France, Lesley, yilsel, whoever you are, you certainly did trouble me. But I guess you knew that you were going to disappear straight away.


There is a tendency for people to see people like me as somehow lacking and in need of advice or direction somehow. It is as if we are not seen as proper adults who know their own minds. We are often patted on the head and it is as if people are saying ‘THERE THERE.” We need smoothing down. Getting older does not mean we lose our marbles, as a matter of course. We are just normal people who happen to be suffering from something. For myself I am quite capable of making my own mind up about things and acting accordingly. I refuse point blank to fit into anybody’s box. In the past I used to be a little more submissive but now I wear my red hat with pride. I do not need smoothing down or anything else. I have my red hat and my purple dress at the ready.


Recently a blogger called Frances began reading and commenting on my posts. Her comments were good ones. I in turn went to her blog which was called Faith Alive. I commented on one or two of her posts. She had homed in on my posts about the rowan tree, which seemd very conincidental because of what is happening in my life right now. Yesterday this blogger suddenly changed her name to Lesley. I had no idea why or who Lesley was. It bugged me all day. Then in the evening yesterday this blogger changed her name again to yilsel. Again I had no idea who this person was. I went to Frances’s blog, Faith Alive and got a message saying that this blog had been deleted by its owners. It was no longer available.

I feel spooked. I have no idea who this person is. I am just about to return home to my great grandmother’s grave which is below the rowan tree. I say return home in a particular way. I too will be buried there and much is going on in my life regarding all of that. My great grandmother was called Frances and was also my godmother. Her name was Frances Hill. I think I have mentioned this name in my blog before.

I am feeling very spooked, but whoever you are Frances I wish you well. I hope you find your peace and know that I have noticed all your changes of names.


My laboured walk
A light drew me on
Promising me a prize
I walked with my eyes open
Knowing not then what was to come
Now I walk in the darkness of night
Blinded by the light that shines in my heart

#FOWC – Valley

FOWC with Fandango — Valley

Louise stopped for a moment and looked at the hills that were all around her. The sun was glinting on the top of them and they were imbued with an exquisite beauty. She was walking on a footpath through a field with her dogs. She pinched herself, not quite believing that she was actually here and was here for good now. All her dreams had been realised and she and Jim had moved form her hometown where there were many horrible memories for Louise, to this VALLEY. It was called the Hope Valley and this was exactly what Louise felt now. Hope for a better future. A life in a place that she loved. Always, she and Jim had promised themselves that they would one day live amongst the hills. And now here they were.


You move
Towards me
In gentleness
In love
But I
Draw back
Though it is not what I want
Yet I must say Goodbye
Is the name of the game
But this is not a game
This is deadly serious
Nothing must be risked
Life hangs on the edge of a cliff
Precariously balanced
Two ways
One leads to death
The other to life
Too many wounds
I cannot risk
And so death comes



Through the mullioned windows I saw the sheep,
Illuminated by the sun,
As I gazed at them my spirit danced,
Then they disappeared behind the hill,
Now, again, all seemed dark,
I waited, hoping that they would come back.

To my delight they soon came back,
Huge was this flock of sheep,
When they returned it was no longer dark,
Again I could see the sun,
But they went again, behind the hill,
So I got on my feet and danced.

I remembered another dark day when I’d danced,
Though I knew he was not coming back,
With him I climbed that enormous hill,
Rugged, just as it was for the sheep,
I longed for him to see the sun,
So his journey would not be so dark.

I danced at his bedside that day in the dark,
Holding hands, we danced,
Many days we had spent in the sun,
But now I knew he was not coming back,
So my heart danced as I saw the sheep,
Coming out from behind the hill.

He once climbed that enormous hill,
Sometimes in the sun, sometimes in the dark,
I thought of him when I saw the sheep,
And remembered how we had danced,
Soon, none of us will be coming back,
May we always see the sun.

Even when in the dark we remember the sun,
Letting it guide us up the hill,
The one thing we know, we can never turn back,
Be forever in the dark,
All that will matter is how we danced,
May we take our cue from the sheep.

Sheep climb safely up the hill,
Whether in the sun or the dark,
I remember how on a dark day I danced, never looking back


We always used to go camping in the Lake District for our holidays. I never would have imagined myself going camping but my husband made it sound so romantic, telling me to imagince only a bit of canvas between me and the stars. After much pressure I agreed to go camping. We purchased a second hand tent, and next thing we knew, there we were in the Lakee District. I loved it. Luckily the sun shone all that week though it was only the beginning of May. I became hooked however, that week. We always took our rough collie dogs with us and those were the happiest times of my life. One year we went to Keswick, and we were walking round the town and came to a big hall. Lots of people were there, and we wondered what was going on. Being nosey, we decided to go in. It turned out to be the Keswick Convention, a yearly religious gathering. It was not really my cup of tea but we stayed anyway to see what went on. Well, we sang a lot of hymns. Funny thing was though, our dog joined in. She made such a racket. We did not stop her. We just let her carry on. She really enjoyed herself. We had to laugh and though it was not really our thing we had to admit that we had had a good time but probably for all the wrong reasons lol


I am just so tired. I am really struggling with this tiredness. I wake up each morning, usually from some horrible dream, attempt to get going, but failing miserably. I usually make my way to my blog and manage to post a couple of poems or something. I feel a very deep urge to keep my blog going. The tiredness is really bugging me though. After I have posted on my blog, I fall right back to sleep again. Usually I dream horrible dreams again. Once I wake up for a second time, I go to my emails to see who has posted and I try to read those posts from my emails. I am often reading your posts without you even knowing it as getting to blogs is so hard for me. Then I have to lie back again. Most of the time I feel very sick. It is just part of how I am now. I often plan to go out but neven manage it. I am missing these lovely light nights, although I cannot see the light anyway. I get worried by this tiredness. It seems to be growing like topsy. Yesterday I fell in the bath and so now my pain is even greater. I truly try to keep going and to live, but things are just slipping from me. I try to do some challenges and I really enjoy doing those. I am still trying to get my book finished so that whatever happens to me, it is done. This is very important to me. Writing has always been my life, having done it since being a small child. I need to write. Today I am exceptionally tired but hope things will improve as the day goes on.


Make room
For untidy
Ones who beg for mercy
For in truth they may be angels
Your path
Angels do not always have wings
But tangled hair, no shoes,

Judge not
Those whom you see
Who do not look the same
As you, who walk the streets begging
One day
You too
May find yourself in that dark place
May there be a New place
To shelter you
Give warmth

The world
Is untidy
Littered with lives gone wrong
Upside down people challenging
The right
Way up
Ones who really are upside down
A new world of mercy
Beckons us all
Greet it


I remember
That time of joy
When all the world seemed fresh and new
When all was risk and all was gain
I remember
The tiny cottage
Like a wonderful gem in a strange country
It held my peace
I travelled that land
Roaming at will
Held but free
I was young then
Fresh from death
But living in joy
Those hills still live in my heart
Whilst I struggle to take one step
I remember joy
As I lie in the dark


I had a samosa for lunck. Well, I didn’t actualluy have it. I had a bite out of it. It said “mild” on the wrapper. It was not mile at all. It was in a bloomin’ great temper. In fact it was furious. It burnt like mad lol. I did not bother taking another bite. My tummy is complaining lol. I love samosas as long as they are not in a temper.

#FOWC – Divorce

FOWC with Fandango — Divorce

Steve came home from work to hear shouting in the dining room.

“I’m going to DIVORCE him,” yelled Fiona.

“I don’t blame you,” shouted Pam.

Steve had never been so shocked in his life. They had only been married for thirty years and he had just given her a wonderful birthday present. He could hardly believe his ears. What the hell had he done to precipitate this? He went to the cupboard and got out a bottle of whisky. A cup of tea was no good in this situation. Then he got a glass. Then he thought,

“I can’t be bothered. I’ll just drink it straight out of the bottle.”

An hour later he was rather drunk. Fiona found him in the kitchen with his head in his arms on the work top.

“What on earth is the matter with you?”” She asked.

“Well now I know,” Steve said. “You could have told me first instead of that woman Pam,” he said.

“What do you mean? Fiona replied

“Well you’re going to divorce me,” said Steve.

“Oh THAT,” said Fiona. “I’ve joined a concert party. We’re going to put on a show.”
“We were just practising our parts” she said.



Much time has passed since I came to this place
I hear names I know but the people have gone
I remember times past and the peace I knew then
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old

I hear names I know but the people have gone
There in the soil my ancestors lie
My soul yearns to build a new world from the old
But is it too late for my time will soon come

There in the soil my ancestors lie
Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
Is it too late for my time will soon come
The party is over and everyone’s gone

Their graves are unkempt for nobody cared
For the lives that were lived and the deeds that were done
The party is over and everyone’s gone
But the place is not empty for my memory lives on

For the lives that were lived and the deeds that were done
I offer my prayers in this beautiful place
The place is not empty my memory lives on
And I re-live the years that I had as a child

I offer my prayers in this beautiful place
That the light will shine on and never grow dim
I re-live the years that I had as a child
As the horses come by and remind me of home

May the light shine on here and never grow dim
In perpetuity give them the peace that they earned
The horses come by and remind me of home
My coffin will one day be drawn by them here

In perpetuity give them the peace that they earned
May it come to me too for my time will soon come
Much time has passed since I came to this place
I hear names I know but the people have gone


I walked with you today among the graves
Who says graves are not beautiful?
In them lie the most noble souls
And rascals too
Each with their own beauty
Underneath our feet the frozen grass
Crackling as we walk
Like the crackling flames of love
Do we ever forget to love
Our hearts dance in the frozen forest
To the tune of the Universe
Lithesome and free
On the dancing breeze
Oh grave
Where is your victory?

#SOCS – sink,sank,sunk

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 27, 2023

I sank to the ground, sunk in gloom, as I watched my rock sink into the reservoir. It was a rock that I never wanted in the first place, but he had insisted that I have it. All the way from Lindisfarne it had come. Holy Island some call it. At high tide you are cut off if you are on the island and often people do get cut off. Their hearts sink when they realise that they are there for the night. It was on Holy Isle that my brother heard that I had got cancer. He was on holiday there and all morning the seals had been silent but as he got the news on his mobile all the seals started wailing. Strange how my brother should make anything of that. I suppose there are times when we feel that the whole of nature is crying with us. I have often felt it myself. And the stones crying out. I have heard that too. I think often of all the souls who have sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I am never watching the film about the Titanic again. I always feel as if I am going down with the ship. I remember the orchestra playing Nearer my God to Thee and that hymn often haunts me. How near to God are we? I am getting on quite a bit now, and my cancer and the chemo made my body deteriorate and now I know that I am near the end. I do not know what to expect. Whether there is a God and a heaven or not. Some say that we make our own heaven and hell in this life. We can be sunk in misery as the result of our own actions. We can also sink into gloom. I know of many who sank into gloom. Two of my best friends committed suicide. I knew they were sinking but ther was little that I could do about it though I tried. One friend threw herself into the river and sank. They said it was the menopause but I knew that it was not. Some religious nuts got hold of her and made her believe she was beyond redemption. These religious nuts are a menace. I have never sunk into their cauldrons thank God, if there is one that is. I wonder what my end will be like? I get scared. Really scared. Sometimes I just want to sink into the night and become oblivious. I have had enough of life, in constant pain and totally blind. I would not be able to see anything sink now and I have sunk all my boats in many respects. Not on purpose but of necessity. Sometimes life sucks. I used to suck lollipops but now I don’t. I don’t like green mouths. One Christmas we had some friends for dinner and one of them brought lollipops to suck after dinner. We didn’t half all look stupid sat there sucking lollipops. Talk about big kids. I think I will just go and sink my teeth into a burger. Oh but wait. I have lost all my teeth. Shucks. Well I guess that’s life folks. Bye for now.


Of sea
Rising wind
Shrieking sea gulls
Black skies overhead
A storm will soon be here
I welcome the storm with joy
For it tells me I am alive
The storm will roar but I will be safe
Soon it will pass and peace will reign again

#FOWC – Asinine

FOWC with Fandango — Asinine

It might have been the most asinine thing that he ever did. Pete, that was. But then who knows. He had a penchant for going round with a huge bunch of keys hanging from his belt, thinking it made him look important. He was full of telling everyone what to do, but he never seemed able to do the right thing himself. Despite all that he was quite a loveable character. He was always willing enough. He had enrolled on a chef’s course at the local College. He bought all the chef’s attire and looked quite the part. He spoke very knowledgeably about what he was doing and it all sounded good.

Vera observed to him that she hated curry. He assured her that if she ate curry properly done, like he did it, she would love it. Vera was prepared to take on the challenge, and she and Alf invited him to their house to make a meal for them one evening. On the menu was curry. Pete came and donned his best chef’s outfit and he looked really good. Vera and Alf even took a photograph of him working in the kitchen chopping up this and that so meticulously.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age, all was ready and they all sat down to eat the meal. Vera quite liked it with its raisins and currants and coconut in. But it seemd to lack something. Upon inquiring of Pete what he had done, his hand went to his forehead.

“Oh my God I forgot the curry powder” he said.


I have been doing something lately, plus I have had a period of feeling not so good again. The tiredness has really got to me but I have been frantically trying to finish my book and get it into presentable form. It has been very emotional writing this book but it was something that I needed and wanted to do. I have been sending it to my one and only friend to read for me, and without him I would not have kept going. It is an almost unbelievable story, and as I have weakend I have worried that I would not get it finished. It has taken up so much emotional energy. I hope it is inspirational an gives hope. I am still writing some poetry and posting it here but somtimes I post an old one as you may have noticed. I am still around and working lol


The room that day
Dreadful darkness covered
All the things that you knew
A path
Before you called “The Wilderness”
Desolation filled you
No one could walk
With you.

Hard rocks
Were your pillow
There were no softened words
Nor warm bed to take your body
So cold
The world
That wrapped its tentacles around
Your captured bleeding soul
But then you found

Bloomed as you walked
Along that lonely path
Such beauty you had never seen
And now
You knew the value of deep pain
That all could be redeemed
And blossomed red
Your joy


I use and external keyboard with my iPad via Bluetooth. I do not understand Bluetooth but anyway……

I post my posts via email as it is the easiest way for me, but once I have posted, I find that there are often lots of typos in them. My stupid keyboard actually speaks out the letter I am typing, as, being blind, I discoverd this aid. But it turns out that the typing lags behind, and I am way ahead of the speaking. I try typing slower and it just still does the same lol. So I end up in a mess. Talk about no peace for the wicked lol. It is maddening because I then have problems putting it right. Usually a few people have already read the post. So if you read a post of mine with loads of typos in, please ignore them. They will be put right and sometimes it will take longer than others. Damned keyboard but at least it allows me still to type.


You gave me a place
Just before midnight
Before the clock did chime
And the lights went out
Time was short
But eternity took me
A new world awaited
Where the rivers flowed gently
And the pastures were lush and green
And once again
I heard the singing of the birds
And felt the gentle winds caress
My weeping skin
Your spirit breathed life into my soul
And death was no more
Nor sorrow nor tears
Golden is the sky
I cry no more


Alien no more
In a land that I do not know
No longer a stranger to myself
Claiming my birthright
I come back to myself
For so many years it laid here
Waiting for me to reclaim it
Stolen it was from me
As I journeyed in a far off land
Never a place to rest my head
Never a place to sing and dance
Never a place to be me
But now I am coming home
To claim what is mine
To hold it fast
In trembling hands
Until I draw my last breath


Kim sat by the wall going around the old churchyard. The year was 2015. She had gone into remission from a serious cancer and she no longer knew who she was. She had been used to climbing mountains, cycling miles, and swimming 30 lengths of the baths each day. Now, she was a shadow of her former self. She needed this time, to meditate and think on what had happened to her. This church was the one where she had been baptised as a baby. As her husband had drawn up in the car, they saw a rowan tree right by the wall. It was so beautiful. Kim loved rowan trees. She loved how they could survive in the most adverse conditions. They were also very pretty especially in the autumn with their bright red berries.

Kim had always been happy in this village, though her parents had left the village when she was only a toddler. Her grandparents had a farm just outside the village and kim found the greatest happiness in her life there. Her family life left much to be desired but her grandmother loved her very much and Kim went to stay on the farm as often as she could. The village was home to her. It was her place of safety and security in the midst of a tumultuous life.

Kim was drawn back and back and back to that spot by the rown tree after she had been there for the first time. On that first occasion she was intrigued to find that the church clock was stopeed at 4.30. That was the time when Kim had been born. How strange. The church clock was no longer working.

As Kim continued to sit by the rowan tree poetry poured out of her and her meditations were so revealing. She longed to come back to this place to live. It was her home. The only home she had ever known. She had no desire at that time to go to a Service in the church, and she was happy just to sit there by the rowan tree. She wrote down all her thoughts as they came. Then she made a discovery. Rowan trees were often planted in churchyard because they were thought to guard all the souls in the churchyard. They had healing properties. Well Kim certainly needed a lot of healing.

Then came the day that she suddenly wanted to go inside the church to see the font where she had been baptised. It was an amazing feeling to look it and to touch it. Here was where she had been given to God as a baby. And what a life she had had since then. A tumultuous life. Certainly not a peaceful one. Inside the church however, she felt such a deep peace. It was beautiful. This here was the antithesis to the life her mother had given her. Her extremely abusive mother. She wanted only to stay in here for ever.

Then the summer came to an end. It was harvest time. Kim had such happy memories of harvest time on the farm. There was to be a Harvest Festival at the church. Kim felt within her a deep desire to go. It was wonderful. As soon as the first hymn started up, “We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land,” at the very start of the Service, she broke down. She had been touched very deeply and her memories came flooding back. They were beautiful ones.

Following that, she went to a few more Services. She enjoyed going there so much. It was so peaceful. She had attempted to find the graves of her great grandfater and other family members in the churchyard and she had asked the vicar if he could find where they were. He had no idea at all where they might be. Then one evening, as Kim was sitting once again meditating by the rowan tree, the vicar came by walking his dog. He spoke to Kim cheerily. Then he went into the churchyard and began looking to see if he could see a grave. He knew the surname of Kim’s ancestors and suddenly he stopped right next to the rowan tree. Then he looked up at Kim in surprise.

“Do you recognise the name Frances Hill?” He looked inquiringly at Kim

Kim almost fainted.

“Yes, that is my great grandmother,” replied Kim. Such joy filled her heart. Not only was this lady her grat grandmother, but she was also her godmother. She had offered Kim to God as a baby. All this time she had been sitting by the grave, with poetry pouring out of her, not knowing that her great grandmother was just behind the wall. Kim was overcome. The rowan tree certainly must have mystical powers. She had been drawn here and had written many poems about the beautiful rowan tree. Kim could hardly believe all of this. There was nothing for it. She just had to put all these poems into a book. She didjust that and she created and sold her poetry book called “under the Rowan Tree,” which she went to Craft Fairs with, and sold it for the Lymphoma association as Lymphoma was the cancer which she had had.

Years passed, and Kim was in her seventies. She had been defeated in her attempts to move back to this, her home village. But she discovered that that did not preclude her from coming home in a spiritual sense. She was now 75 years old, and nearing the end of her life, with her body gradually dying. But in her spirit she was now home. This was where she would be buried. This would be where she she would say Goodbye to this world. This was where she would come home to, for ever. On her grave, would be the words,

“Home at Last.”

#FOWC – Lively

It was one of those days. Well, for the horse it was. No one ever really knew what got into her. She was always a LIVELY beauty. Actually rather wild. Brenda and Sue had been out together in Sue’s car for a meal at a farm cafe. That was how it was round there. Farmers having to diversify Brenda had a farm of sorts. High up in the Peaks. Windy and isolated. There she lived with her dogs, her chickens, her ducks, her horses, and a goat. They all lived happily. On this one day however, Brenda and Sue were just driving up to the farm and Brenda suddenly exclaimed, in a panic,

“Oh that horse. Look at her. She shouldn’t be out.”

Sue did not understand. Weren’t horses meant to be in fields? Obviously this one wasn’t.

As Sue parked the car, and got out, Brenda ran up to her like a bat out of hell, grabbed her on the shoulders and shoved her unceremoniously into a little stable with a very low stable door. Then she closed the stable door, and Sue found herself eyeball to eyeball with a yellow eyed goat. Fortunately the goat was friendly, and it nuzzled up to Sue. The horse was galloping hell for leather round the field with Brenda in hot pursuit. Sue still did not know why the horse was not meant to be in the field. As the horse galloped and Brenda ran, there were loud noises of exasperation coming from Brenda plus a few cursings. This seemed to go on for ever. Then, suddenly, all was silent. Brenda came and told Sue that she could come out of the stable. The wayward horse was captured. Sue said Goodbye to the goat and thanked it for its company. Without a word of explanation Brenda ushered Sue to her car, and Sue never did know why she had ended up spending an hour or two with a goat in a stable.