In My Baby’s Eyes

lgphone 092In My Baby’s Eyes.  

There is such wisdom, he sees so much.  He is constantly learning, surprising me with what he knows.  I would never have imagined the fun that we would have since he arrived in our lives.  Life will never be the same again, he has touched our hearts.  He is there, to love unconditionally, when I have felt that the world hated me, there to comfort me when I have been sick or sad.  He keeps me safe, when we are worried and has steered us away from danger. He is not as trusting as I am and is a pretty good judge of character. He has a wonderful singing voice and will tell you what is on his mind. He is large, but can be so gentle.

He is our furry son, my mother’s Grand-dog and a beloved part of our existence that makes us more of a family. He is achingly handsome as an animal and beautiful as a person, which he is convinced that he is. He has his likes and dislikes just as anyone does and a level of nonsense that makes us adore him all the more.  We think that he is special, he certainly is to us.

The Thief

As the clock begins to chime,
they go about their life of crime.
Up and down throughout your house,
Sometimes as quiet as a mouse.
Seeing what they are able to steal,
To fund another drugged up deal.

No chance for a moment of regret,
No apology for making them fret.
Not stopping to think what another might feel.
From the shock of it all, their victims reel.
Your watch he’d take or even your bike,
In fact he’ll go with whatever he’d like.

On their bikes, I’ve seen them scout
As off they go riding about.
Meeting up around the park,
Blatant not waiting until the dark.

Then as they creep about in their dark glasses
They hoods that they wear won’t cover their arses.
In your sleep suddenly awake,
As your safety net they break.
Not concerned for all the distress,
They couldn’t care any less.
Can view the hatred in their face,
Around this godforsaken place.
Sometimes a robber, always a thief
No desire to turn over a new leaf.
Done for a fix, or to pay the rent,
Their anger, uncontrolled they vent.

Hurly Burly

Thinking of the Hurly burly,
In my brain when I’m due up early.
No rhymes have come for almost a week,
This is not exactly like counting sheep.
Lay me down again you know,
That this is the moment, it starts to flow.
But by way of recompense,
It kind of makes perfect sense.
The brain is busy, the fever gone
And into my room, the bright moon shone.
Waiting for my head to burst,
As I quench the writers’ thirst.
I will write in present tense,
There is no form of defence.
Emotions out and feeling weak,
No chance for me to even speak.
At the end I must concur,
That the night becomes a blur.
It seems as though it’s been an age,
Since writing words on the blank page.
Lack of sleep, Oh what fun
As often, off my mind will run.
A free spirit, don’t try to tame
As it plays this silly game.
Feelings deep, behind the eyes,
Not the time to criticize.
Rest a while as you lament,
When you suffer this torment.
The lights are out, the room is black,
There really is no turning back.
Your own fault, who lit the fuse,
Don’t hold them back there is no use.
Hope the words will come out right,
When I’m awake half the night.
Feelings will come into play,
If I awake at break of day.

The Man About Town

I started to think of all of it,
Of how a cut is tailored to fit.
Where the threads are woven so light,
Tugged and wound around so tight.
The lining placed to cover the marks,
Hiding the body, naked and stark.
Creation of outfit your day to start,
How it meets in the middle to cover the heart.
To make one smart and represent,
A person or an image is meant.
Your case and cufflinks and a tie,
Dressed to kill, you’re living a lie.
Coat or hat to accessorize,
Weighing people up for size.
Persona or sense of style abound,
For all to see as you strut around.
when you wear your suit and cover your frown,
On your way to work, you man about town.

Living the Wild

It seems that we have the getaways again. Oh dear, Scotland is calling us loud and clear. To be fair to it, we should have been there again by now, it is waiting for us. We had plans, but due to illness we are waiting until our health has improved, since it can be pretty bleak up on the hill. So at the moment, we try to satisfy our cravings for the scenery and beauty, with any hope of a Scottish view or voice via the television. Yes, we are most definitely homesick until we arrive there for this years piece of the puzzle. It has been four months since we last visited, but seems like forever. That almost felt like “It has been four months since my last confession”, but I am not of the Catholic faith and so it has been a lot longer than that…

The other evening we watched it again, Ben Fogle’s series New Lives in the Wild UK, we had seen this particular episode last year, but I had no hesitation in watching it again to drink in the scenery. It documented the life on Fair Isle, Scotland of Tommy Hyndman, who moved there from the USA around ten years or so ago. You simply have to admire Tommy for getting stuck in there and making it work. We have learned that it is not always easy to integrate into a new community but he seems to have got the mix just right there. Having taken on a guest house, named The Auld Haa, he seems to be running it with some success and I wish him much more. It was not only a crofter’s cottage, but is also his home and he chooses to share it with travellers worldwide, thus enriching his life with experiences and also earning him a living. It appears from this program, that the welcoming home and atmosphere of his surroundings, would rest the heart of any weary traveller who set foot there. Fair Isle is a birdwatchers haven, as well as being known for it’s wonderful sweaters but for anyone looking for a get away from it all and back to nature vacation, away from the hustle and bustle, it looks like the ideal spot.

We were naturally in awe of Tommy’s Studio, he get’s to rent the lighthouse and that alone would have us flocking there, but I think there is probably already a long queue should he ever decide to vacate it.
I personally cannot think of a more inspirational workspace in which to write, but I’m pretty sure that given the chance, I would find huge inspiration there.

My partner used to skipper a weekend fishing boat and has always been a seafaring Bear and I know that he misses being out on the water. Me, well I would live on a diet of fish if he‘d let me. The size of the Lobsters that he and Ben caught on camera, had me positively drooling at the thought.

At the end of it all, I hope that Tommy finds love with a strong woman who can cope with the demands of Island Life and who will throw herself into it headlong with him and make him truly happy. It seems as though it is the only thing he lacks in his life.

Following the program, my partner asked me to look up property for sale on the Island, he had missed the bit where it was owned by the National Trust of Scotland but, there must be other beautiful Scottish islands right? I should explain myself. I love looking at property, I have always wanted to find and own a property portfolio all over the place, but have not yet been able to raise the finance for this particular dream. I also think that I would be hesitant to let any of it go, so would be constantly moving from one place to another. But I regularly look to see what is out there. A quick search brings up a place called Sanday, It was beautiful and for offers around £120,000 I found a 2 bed farm with 30 acres leading down to the sea for sale. Imagination fired once again, what sort of life could we live in a place like that! However the reality of a Scottish Island for two people with arthritis, would be far different of course, I think the climate would make us miserable especially in the winter months, but the beauty of such a place never fails to tug at the heart and fire the imagination. There’s always a holiday though…
Living the Wild,

Watching a great series on television,
On how some people have made it their mission
On how to let their dreams run wild,
They celebrate their inner child.
Look at Tommy, he’s been blessed
Found a place where sea birds nest.
In the lighthouse, held aloft
Views to sea, or over his croft.
Wild winds, emotional Scottish weather,
Howl and tease amongst the heather.
But when the day is clear and calm,
Can’t fail to notice, it has it’s charm.
A place that’s known as Fair Isle
Where special sweaters are made with style.
Family businesses weaving the yarn,
Made to measure in house and barn
Tommy has lived there making his way,
Day in and day out come what may.
Could walk for miles without a trace,
But never alone in this wonderful place.
A workshop where he will create,
Livestock will roam, so close the gate.
Community living, you’d earn your keep,
When you’re out on the moor tending the sheep.
The guesthouse he runs is called the Auld Haa,
Impossible to travel there just by car.
Stopping to spot an unusual bird,
Trek the fields, with the herd.
Walking and painting that’s the trick,
Plenty to see for the romantic.
Nooks and crannies in which to play,
While children while away their day.
The Craggy cliff face can be sheer,
But hold on tight nothing to fear.
Shoes off, to get your toes in the sand.
Off by plane back to the mainland.
Out to sea by boat to get fish,
More time spent here is your wish.
As Tommy cooks a fabulous dinner.
This has to be your holiday winner.
Open your arms in your dreams you’re hurled
With it all to see, you’re on top of the world.

The Tangled Web

Thinks of the things that she may write,
Sweet dreams to come into her night.
Emotions are often there in tatters,
Like the glass of a mirror it shatters.
Falling at once upon the floor,
Leaving her staring, wanting more.
Sometimes I will think of the things I deny,
And how to musings, myself I’ll apply.
What a wonderful web we tangle,
When you can see it from every angle.
Not trying ever to deceive,
Is what we strive to achieve.

Grief

Grief

It is strange how it affects us. Creeping up on you and hitting you over the head, leaving you weak at the knees once more, crumpled and emotionally exhausted. The effect it will have on the unsuspecting is incomprehensible.

They say that we shouldn’t dwell upon the past, although I agree it is not safe to do so, I do firmly believe it is what shapes us. Although it is not wise to wallow in grief, it is essential to enable us to heal from the pain that is caused by our loss. It may be a quick process for some, or achingly slow for others, appearing again after laying dormant for years. One thing is for sure, when you come out the other side of grief, it cannot fail to have changed you.

I knew, I wish I knew…

I knew, I wish I knew…

I knew,
That he’s the one for me.
That it would be Home.
That I would win the auction for the car.
That I was driving past the road where it is, knowing it was nearby.
That we needed more antibiotics.
That she needed a surprise visit and a hug.
That I was not strong enough before.
That it wasn’t to be.
That my friend was hurting.
That my lover was ill.
That I am stronger that I thought.
That I am a good person.
I wish,

I knew I could ease the burden.
I knew where I’d put the things I had lost.
I knew what would work for a career.
I knew that Good Luck is on its’ way
I knew what my purpose in life is.
I knew that I could be who and what I want to be.

The House with the Green Door

Our first house with it’s green door
Where an ear of corn, grew through the floor.
Only one ear, it would yield,
Although I hoped to grow a field.

Thinking of all the times with my brother I’d play,
Bike and scooter races along the pathway.
Chips on the TV or Starsky and Hutch
Followed us into our games so much.

An office and workshop both he had,
Where he could hide and not be Dad.
Packed with tools and random stuff,
Would venture in there when he’d had enough.

The larder cupboard, where deep inside,
I would sit with my friend and hide.
Eating sweets and cubes of bread,
If we’d got caught, we feared we’d be dead.

One day outside a picture we would take,
Of Mum and Dad’s wedding cake,
I wondered why we couldn’t eat,
Kept for years was no mean feat.

Cooking together, or knitting a hat,
Next door had a beautiful cat.
It played in the house and sat on the stair,
when you wanted to stroke it was always there.

Would walk through the garden taking a look,
Sit under a tree with colouring book.
Colouring in the pictures and drawing,
No sign of me when day is dawning.

The cupboard where I would sit and read
When some of my own space I’d need.
A box room so small, to call my own
Drawers so full that they would groan.

With everything there so close, Oh my
Teddies and dollies standing by
A King, A Queen a Copper or Thief
Sometimes a Squaw or and Indian Chief.

The games we play, when imagination runs riot
Mum was worried when we went quiet
Fought with my brother he was so strong
Our garden was wide and very long.

Tennis with the kids next door
Over the fence rolling on the floor.
A net across the bit that was grassed
Fun Summers there, endless passed.

The Music Box

You are listening to the Fleur de Lys,
And how the music is there to please.
Caught up at once in a whirl,
Watching as around she twirls.
Her audience of silver and gold,
Sparkle and glint from days of old.
The box you would buy for a little girl,
As you watch her wonderful life unfurl.
Dressing up pieces for her pleasure.
Are the items she will come to treasure.
Replaced in the box and wind the key,
Poised for the next time you want to see.
Ready to dance you’d see that she did,
After all those years when you lifted the lid.
Spring it open and look what you found,
As she spins around and around.
Her paint is old, her skirt is tattered,
Dressing up jewellery broken and battered
As you open the box, she’ll take to the stage
Despite the fact, she’s showing her age.
Relentless she dances on and on,
The Music box still plays her song.
Around the room, a little girl dances
With grace, she bends and prances
As she listens to the favoured tune,
Head so dizzy she starts to swoon.
As you open it up, surprised to find,
A dancer who stands up there behind,
You wind her up and watch her go,
On her stage to see her show.