Category: Life, Love & Observations

On reaching 100 and Counting, (Still)

Well, that’s one for the list of Yay’s…
To those of you have been waiting and would like to know, you’ll be pleased to hear that I have now reached my 100 poems. This is the goal that I set myself to write, before I would choose which ones I will include in my first book. It also appears on the list of Yay’s. For the uninitiated, this is a list which I made myself in February, just as I began this blog of things that I wished to achieve (preferably) this year. As I complete them, I place the Yay! By way of celebration in the completed column. See Intentions – Things I want to do this year

The truth be told, I have surpassed this particular personal goal in a glut of writing that began yesterday and went on through the night. It was daylight when I finally clambered into bed at 5am having been unable to sleep once again, the words and thoughts just kept coming and I am but its slave. Having been in bed for the grand total of three hours I was suddenly awake again, at 8am the notepad pulled from under the pillow, the pencil poised once more. Round two, ding-ding!

I am not stopping yet though, let’s continue to make hay whilst the sun shines. (Although this morning is actually met with rain) the selection process will begin, just about the time that my current stream of writing falters a little, I will then feel able to edit and work on how it will all come together and final quantity that will be included in the book itself, also on how on earth I am going to get it out there and market it on my non-existent budget. Hold on to your hats.

The intention is there and I had anticipated that it would be my first book, but since my butterfly mind is flitting once again I may conclude something else I am also working on first. I know, I know the voice inside my head warns the old me to finish what I had started, before moving on to the next thing. But there is another deadline I would rather like to meet. It is a competition entry, with a month to spare and would be my first entry for writing. It could be a short story, but what constitutes a short story and where is the line drawn before it becomes a long one?  If last night was anything to go by, it could end up a novel. It started off a couple of months ago, notes on a page, characters in my head, stories to be told. It has sat there, whiling away the time, until more thoughts formed in my head and I began to consciously write it, I somehow knew that once I did it might open a floodgate.

This particular story is of a young girl, reaching womanhood and the people she encounters, who try to change the direction her life should take and the people thrown into her path. The way that it is coming thick and fast at the moment, I might just ,make the deadline for that particular competition, dependent on what else May holds for me. If not, then there’s a rather large shelf full of stuff that I could put it on. I’d been sitting on there myself until recently, but it was time to dust myself off this year and start something new.

Oh metaphors, how I love thee….

I said that May is going to be a good month, where good things happen. It is traditionally so and I don’t want to break with that particular tradition. I have a lot to accomplish this month and so far, progress has been made, so Salut and long may it continue.

There is another goal, which I am so close to reaching on the list, the magical number of 50 followers to my blog. So, if you are reading this for the first time and want to do me the honours, I’d be over the moon to be able to tick that one off too and I‘m oh so close…

I am filled with Gratitude for the people who follow the blog and regularly send me their comments and emotional support, sometimes the road can be rocky, but your words continue to inspire me. Thank you!

 

 

 

The Girls from the Beach

Surrounded by beautiful countryside,
That’s where he took her off to hide.
It took so many years to see,
The friend who’d left Leigh-on-Sea.
Through our teens, we’d grown together,
A storm to fight almost any weather.
But like a cloud she drifted away,
In my heart a place, she’d stay.
Years went by and a message I’d send.
To the girl, who’d been such a dear friend.
Would time have changed her beyond reach?
From one of the girls who sat on the beach.
Had habits wrecked the person I know?
If she was hurting, would it now show?
But we got in touch and to my relief,
The girl I knew was still underneath.
Scratch the surface and you will see,
A part of the person she’d wanted to be.
A passion for travel was her desire,
She’d at last got away from that terrible liar.
Who’d built around her a wall you could shove,
Now thankfully found a man she could love.
They now have a wonderful family
Of beautiful children, I’m dying to see.
So into the car a visit was planned,
Will we stop by the beach, put our toes in the sand?
Should we sit for a time and dwell on the past,
Let’s sit in the park as time’s gone so fast.
A picnic with her and three of her brood.
Couldn’t give them a lift and didn’t want to be rude,
But couldn’t fit them all in the car in the back,
The years have been kind and she’s on the right track.
Stayed there for hours as though no time had passed,
Would she still be my friend? I’d know at last.
In conversation, you’d see that she’s changed,
The same girl you knew but just rearranged.
Is it her past? or just motherhood,
Quietly reserved, are things for the good?
You see that under it she’s fragile,
But what else hides behind her smile?
Was once like your sister, will be so again.
Wonder if she’s managed a refrain,
From the sad life that she’d come to know,
Before way back when she’d decided to go.
Imagine my true happiness,
When she gave me her address.
An invite for her family to see,
A shade of the girl she used to be.
This is the girl who would go with the flow,
Who is lots of fun and a pleasure to know.
She’s gone shy and quiet, doesn’t talk on the phone.
Off with her kiddies for hours she’ll roam.
Exploring the places they’re eager to find,
Space for some thinking or there to remind.
Up and down trees or charging about
“Where are you Mum?” “Over Here!” she’ll shout.
Hide and seek up hill and down dale,
A photo of them sitting on a hay bale.
A great imagination, a thirst to excite,
A great bunch of kids, they’ve brought them up right.
Over the time her children have grown
But a wonderful family they have shown,
That they stay together through thick and thin.
Way back then, he was determined to win.
Not prepared to give up at all cost,
Do not dwell on the time that we lost.
So glad that she settled and turned things around.
Glad that finally my friend has been found.

The Daily Post – The Girls from the Beach

 

 

Hope is Waiting

Hope sits waiting.

She is ready, willing and able.

For when you have conquered it you can go out and face it all once again.
Garaged, Off Road for when your new life awakes.
A tank full of fuel and her bodywork gleaming, like a crystal blue lake.
Bringing back your smile, as you race towards Adventure together once again.
She is patient, relaxed and all the things you are not.

You must never abandon Hope, you must allow her to pick you up and travel the journey together, experience what Life holds just around the corner, as you travel along the road in your bid for freedom.

There may be twists and turns, unexpected obstacles, but Hope will get you through.

India Blue – Hope is What it Represents

The Daily Post – Hope is Waiting

 

Who Will Buy? In the words of Oliver Twist..

It’s inspiration that we find in the strangest of places, today this tune and a couple of lines of it have been going around my head.

In the words of Oliver Twist…

Who will buy
This wonderful morning?
Such a sky
You never did see!

Who will tie
It up with a ribbon
And put it in a box for me?

So I could see it at my leisure
Whenever things go wrong
And I would keep it as a treasure
To last my whole life long.

Who will buy
This wonderful feeling?
I’m so high
I swear I could fly.

Me, oh my!
I don’t want to lose it
So what am I to do
To keep the sky so blue?
There must be someone who will buy…

I set myself a goal when I began writing this blog and post my own brand of poetry here. Finally, I would be doing something that I wanted to do.  That special thing, ME TIME! and who knows, somewhere along the way, someone might like it and read it.

To all those of you who have so far brightened my days with your likes and comments, it is appreciated more than you could know.  To the people who follow this blog, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart, you give me a reason (and boy, do I love one of those) to go on with it.

So, I set about it.  Putting my thoughts on paper, (or laptop) random things, poems, feelings, photos etc and here we are, a few months later, although early days, I am making progress on to my next goal.

When I reach 100 poems that I have written, I will self-publish a book of poetry.  Some you will have seen here, some you will not. (After all, I have to hold something back) Like one last card to my chest, I sometimes get fed up with being the proverbial open book. So once I reach that 100, I’m actually almost there… Yay! I will start to select the few that will end up in my first book and I will have reached that goal.

I have a name, a format and a question…. Who will buy?  Then another, If it ever makes it to proper print, (hard copy) then should I wrap it up in a ribbon?

Since I am planning to self publish this book, I’d love to have a physical book for people to have, hold and share. If any other bloggers here have had any success in getting donations towards hard copy publishing and can give me any advice, it would be much appreciated.

For those of you who may now have the tune whizzing around your head, here’s a link to the words.  Who Will Buy… From Oliver Twist, by Lionel Bart

 

 

 

 

The Spiral Staircase

The Daily Post – Stairway

I am not quite sure when it became apparent to me, but one of my lasting memories as a child was the recurring dream.  I dreaded it’s arrival as I felt so out of control when it happened. The dream itself took on so many forms over the years, but always somewhere at some point in there was a spiral, almost like being in a vacuum somehow, being pulled always backwards downward as though on a spiral staircase.  Although it would always start slowly, as time went on, it would then drag me way too fast and I was powerless to stop it.  The sick dizzy feeling that going backwards fast can give you somehow remained with me once I had awoken.  I was very small when it happened for the first time.  In adult life, both physically and emotionally, I don’t like going backwards, I refuse to travel backwards on a train, it messes with my senses, gives me a headache and makes me dizzy again, bringing back that old familiar dreamlike feeling.  I also dislike not making progress however small, since I am naturally impatient and have to curb that sometimes, it seems to be a driving force.  Static is almost as bad as the backward spiral and I continue to fight against them both.

Welcome Back

I have missed your kisses.
The taste of you as you kiss me,
The pressure of your mouth upon mine.
Exploring me as you look into my eyes.
Reaching for me in that all enveloping make you feel loved and safe, nothing else matters moment.
I have missed the closeness, of your head resting against mine, being hand in hand and the curl of your hair, soft under my fingers.
Sickness had placed a distance between us, a cruel infection that neither had wanted the other to share, but inadvertently done so, making us sad, erratic and ill. Although a temporary setback we have been together all along, but that something has been missing, the closeness and we were somehow detached.

You are still here, I am still here, Let‘s celebrate.
Yesterday I stole my first kiss from you in ages and whispered “Welcome Back”
Although I had not even meant to do so it came so naturally, It made us both smile. I ran my fingers through your hair and sat cuddled up close to you, hand in hand and happy. We are Home, we are together.

Physical or Emotional

Scars.  Sometimes blatant, there staring you in the face. Like it or not. A constant reminder of things you want to forget, of the circumstances surrounding your particular experience. Sometimes unseen, kept under wraps, from the things you are trying to convince yourself that are making you stronger. Sometimes there is no outward sign at all, hiding the actions or the words of others.

Emotional ones may heal in time with understanding and effort, but wherever they happen to be indelible upon the person they remain.

Scars will never go completely, they change you. Some will wear them with pride, some will hide them away. Whatever your own personal choice, if you have them you cannot escape them. Some women will bear the scars of childbirth, for them it may be a wonderful thing, a celebration of something beautiful to show for all the pain.

The Daily Post

#Linkyourlife

 

 

A Little bit of Glamour, or Striving for Fabulous

It’s about time that I got glammed up again. I know that things must be getting better after all this time, when I start to think to myself I am feeling the urge to get glammed up. A chance to be Glamorous again. This urge, can last a mere moment, or if I am lucky I will push myself, find something smart to wear and try new make up, so that IF I should venture out somewhere and my weight or shape hasn’t changed then I am sure to know what to wear and not spend hours hunting for the perfect thing. I even thought about doing my nails. And was thinking about a photograph which was taken some years ago now, when I was going out to a function, In my mother in law’s gifted fur coat, good jewellery and make up and a sparkly dress. I showed my partner the photo a few months ago, he asked who it was. Then he remembered the coat and realised. My mother told me that I didn’t look like me. I took that as a kind of compliment, that I had somehow pulled it off being dressed up to the nines.

Ok so I might have to push myself to actually do this again now. I haven’t worn earrings for years and nail varnish for about 4 years, none not even when going out. I bought some, but it has gone off. Hmm, a lot can be said for that comment alone…

You know rather than an old favourite dress, I could try something new or wear something different. I am not used to going out you see, I used to be.  I worked in the events industry for a while, so I was used to being around people and mingling.  Some years ago, we had a different life to the one we had now. We had holidays abroad, went out to events and dinners’ fairly regularly and had a busy social life. I was quite the social butterfly. I am not quite sure what changed it all so drastically, but it stopped, so completely that I began to feel like a fish out of water in such places. I think it was after my last surgery, which changed both my body and my frame of mind.

A Hysterectomy can cause havoc upon your self confidence! Although I always felt as though my life had truly begun, opening up opportunities to enjoy myself in ways that I couldn’t before. My life totally changed. When your life changes in such a way, you are often unrecognisable to yourself, let alone others.

I have not been able to drink like I used to, which is not such a bad thing it’s definitely healthier for me. Although people think that you can’t have so much fun. I guess you see fun in a different light and sober you can‘t see the sense in not knowing how you made it home. I also figured that if I drove myself, then I would always know that particular answer. However, I do still have the occasional few drinks but don‘t get smashed very often. I also have an inbuilt stop button, where suddenly when I have had enough alcohol, I will just stop and drink water. I can’t help it, I get thirsty!

I also figured that I wasn‘t great around loud noise any more, with high blood pressure, a side effect of growing up in our family which arrived before the operation and has not left, I find that the bass or beats pound through my head, raising it to an uncomfortable level leaving the throbbing in my ears and waves of nausea through my body and a headache which can last for hours. So bang goes the nightclub lifestyle or live music events, which is difficult to explain to a family who love it and is full of musicians.

We used to go to nice restaurants, especially when we were away. It is a sad indictment that the first words you learn in a foreign language for your holiday are “Hello, I am Lactose Intolerant, Please No Dairy.” It kinds of restricts you before you even start, at best, the resident chef will make you his project for “interesting new dishes” and at worst, you will suffer as I did in a beautiful chateau in France, where this was ignored and every dish was cooked in Butter. Tasting absolutely amazing, but I couldn’t make it through the meal before running for the bathroom.

Now, our social events usually revolve around a meal with family or friends, usually relaxed and in one or other’s homes. The chance to talk, (we do a lot of that) and I feel that in some ways, even though it may be temporary, we are living slightly vicariously, hearing about other’s fantastic holidays and events and this needs to change.

So although it has been a while, I think that I should make time to find a nice outfit, as though I was going out somewhere fabulous again, prepare myself for the event and do my make up and with it build the confidence to throw myself back out there headlong into the world and all it has to offer.
I think even if I can’t quite pull off Glamorous, then I should at least aim for Fabulous.

The lyrics in my head, “Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again”

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.