In My Dreams Sometimes… – Part 3 I Paint.

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Ever the artist, sometimes I paint
Beautiful images, starting feint.
Starting out with something raw,
Time goes slowly as I draw.
There an image starts to appear,
It may take a month or even a year.
But once it is there, there it remains,
A memory or moment it just frames.
And as more colour or depth of field,
The picture growing it starts to yield.
More of me than I thought now,
I don’t even really know how.
Put down on paper there on a page.
The hands still paint at any age.
And I can create a beautiful thing,
Ignore the telephone starting to ring.
Incorporate nature and beauty,
It is my right and not my duty.
For mind over matter is often the cure,
Medicine for the soul I am sure.

By way of explanation, these three poems came about literally as I awoke from the first dream. As I wrote it, I then thought about the other dreams I often have about the things which I can do so much better in my dreams than in reality. It spurs me on at least to attempt the new things from time to time or revisit the old to see if I have made any improvement. If at least it provides encouragement to follow them now and then, then it is worthwhile to continue to dream.

Image: Morguefile

 

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In My Dreams Sometimes… – Part 2 I Swim.

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This is Part 2 in the series of three poems on a theme.  The first was posted yesterday.

In my dreams I sometimes swim,
Not worried about falling in.
No water swallowed or in my ears,
I dive under have faced my fears.
The perfect line, I’ve learned the strokes,
Just like some of the other folks.
No saltwater taken to drink,
Jumped right in, didn’t stop to think.
Graceful movements from A to B,
No concern of drowning at sea.
As I know I’m on the right course,
No one to answer to, no recourse.
On the horizon I set my track,
Once out there’s no turning back.
No worry that I’m out of my depth,
As I swim the length and breadth.
Strength and courage spurs me on,
I turn around begin my return.
I float in the water I look at the sky,
Not what I thought I’m my minds eye.

Image: Morguefile

In My Dreams Sometimes… Part 1 I Dance.

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This is the first of a three part series of poems on a theme. I wrote them all together as verses, however it seemed a little long so I thought why not make them into 3 parts.

In my dreams I sometimes dance,
As I would if I’d had the chance.
Standing around they begin to laugh,
No chance for me to choreograph.
It is my turn, I begin to stand.
No one there to take my hand.
So what happens if during it all,
A wrong turn I drop or fall?
As I spin my world around and round,
A moments’ freedom that I’ve found.
Upon my axis, steps I learn,
Acceptance is what I yearn.
The first audition, I take the stage.
This can be fun at any age.
My limits show in this performance,
As though life depends on it, I dance.
My efforts rewarded with a frown,
As though I am some sort of clown.
My inexperience will always show,
To professionals in the know.
But one is out there standing still,
Smiling back and enjoying the thrill.
He sees in me what I thought I could,
It didn’t really matter if I should.
I dance the bar and learned the steps,
It seems I should have no regrets.
He turns to me and begins to say,
You took a chance didn’t throw it away.
You danced your heart out, your own take.
In your own way and you weren’t a fake.
Although applause are barely audible,
I find your efforts were laudable.
There’s something there, you’re a natural
But this was a dream, it’s not factual.

Image: Morguefile

Advice to the Free Spirit

 

Advice to the Free Spirit.

While you are being a free spirit,

Take a moment to think of the ones that are left behind.

The ones who will take care of things in an emergency,

The ones who will bring you home if it ends suddenly.

Make some arrangements so that they know

What you would have wanted,

If they are doing the right thing,

Or where to find the important things.

Save a little to provide some security,

To cover the cost of a bad decision, or an accident.

Share with them more than just your fun,

Let them know when you are fulfilling your dreams,

Or chasing new ones.

For it will help them in their grief

To know that you were happy,

Loved and cared for,

Had friends in your heart and at your side,

Who will share your last moments.

That you did not die sad or lonely.

Whilst you are being a free spirit,

Remember them and tell them they are loved too.

That you aren’t running away,

But that you are just chasing your dreams,

Living the best life that you can.

Distraction

The momentary distraction,
of sitting on a train,
in pain.
The people that surround me,
living out their lives,
it thrives.
Working, Dreaming, Sleeping.
the memories spring to mind,
not weeping.
A thought or treasured memory,
unjust circumstances in time,
not feeling fine.
Anger and frustration,
While in grief from sudden loss,
Now life has changed forever,
As I stop to count the cost.
That interesting point in the middle distance,
to fix my eyes upon.
The horror and realisation,
that he really is gone.

 

What it Takes

Could you spare a couple of minutes? He said. Actually I can’t right now, I answered I’m on my way somewhere. Could we ask for a donation then? He went on… I’m sorry, but I’m not working right now, so I don’t have any to spare. “Aye, that’s a good one” he answered.
In that moment He wrongly assumed that I did not like cats! I stopped, walked back and told him that if my partner wasn’t violently allergic to them, I’d probably work in a cattery and have a house full. I also explained that I had been out of paid work for two years now and that next time I was back in work I would be happy to donate once again as I did previously.
So I wonder if the man in the shopping centre who was collecting for the Cats Protection League, would have worded his request differently had he known just what I was going through just to get to that point walking through the shopping centre in the afternoon?

I also wondered briefly what he saw when I stood in front of him in my battered work boots, jeans and a vest, hair all messy. Dehydrated and melting in the heat, feeling stressed, exhausted and quite literally lost. He probably didn’t give it a second thought.

Yes, anxiety had well and truly kicked in, but I had chores to do that day and it was my only chance to get them done. When the car is playing up, you take your chance and do a round robin trying to get everything done before arriving back exhausted but happy that you made it.

It so often seems to be the way I feel after going out these days, Yay I made it! After I have returned home again but I had so many more tasks to complete before that point.
It had taken me three days to get up the courage to drive into town in the car which is misbehaving again and threatening to break down. At the moment the fuel is fighting to get through so it doesn’t like climbing hills and drops to a crawl. Two mechanics have been unable to fix this so far, so I really don’t know what to do about it now.
So firstly I visited the Bank in the shopping centre to try and open a new bank account. It used to be so simple. I had ID with me but I had to make an appointment for another day. They couldn’t deal with it then and there, which meant I would have to come back again. I stood in there for half an hour. Frustrating and then they decided that my ID was not enough for them I would have to have paperwork which I do not have here with me. So I would have to get Mum to send it up through the post before I could return to open one.  I’d also have to make another appointment but I had already tried to call them 3 times that morning before I had even got in the car, they don’t answer the phone. I asked for directions to the Post Office and began to walk there. I felt exhausted at that point and then desperately needed the bathroom and have to walk back for 15 minutes to the toilet I had walked past on my way into a shopping centre, one of the places where I feel most anxious.
I also had to buy Birthday Cards and write and send them. Send a parcel from the Post Office. First I had to locate the Post Office which was more than a mile into the biggest shopping centre I’ve been in for years and ask three people for directions, how far away can it be and was I still going in the right direction? I finally found it after walking for another 20 minutes in the opposite direction, going into a shop and then upstairs. How bizarre!

Having come across the Cats Protection man on the way, it left me feeling rather rattled. Disbelieving so and so, I had told him the absolute truth, but why should I have to explain myself, the reasons why I cannot stand there and listen to his pitch about why I should donate money I don’t have simply because he thinks that I could. It upset me, at that point I felt that I could barely stand and I still hadn’t found the post office. I was feeling dizzy and sick and so very tired that if I had stopped, then I may not have got started again and I was about 15 miles from home too.
I still had to tank up with fuel, get some food shopping and collect Water from the camp site before returning home.

I arrived back home four hours after leaving and was totally exhausted. I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep. The relief of being back safe was immense. I just about made it through dinner, my eyes heavy and I slept for 11 hours. I couldn’t move for 2 days, the pain was absolutely ridiculous. I hurt everywhere. I had lost the grip in my hands again and kept tripping over things, my co-ordination was all out of whack and I was clumsy. My nerves jumping and muscles in spasm kept me awake day and night. Sometimes people have no idea just what it takes to do the simple tasks that we once took for granted.

Although the voice inside us tells us to get up and show up and keep on fighting, achieving and we will win, sometimes we have to face it that we just wont. However On the days we do achieve we return triumphant with a sense of euphoria that one day has gone better than we thought, before the crash comes and we spend the next two days in bed, or just too exhausted to function or even do the mundane. The highs and lows of having a long term chronic illness.

This Little Bird…

This little swift.

I call her Lazar,

This little bird,

sits on the wire,

alone.

Her mate gone,

he flew to the light and did not make it.

I found him a week later.

We together mourned his parting,

I was too late to save him.

But she returns,

sits there night after night,

in the warm and dry,

blinking when the light goes on.

A little chirp, when I say Hello Little Bird,

I will not harm you, you are safe here.

Morning comes,

she flies off to do her duty,

her babies are calling.

She disappeared the other day,

I was worried for her safety,

then she appeared and circled my head

proudly showing off her babies.

All by herself,

and there they all sat on the telegraph wire

singing their hearts out.