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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.

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.

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.

Deliriously Deluded Ramblings Vol 2

Jolted awake from her sleep, by the bitter taste rising in her throat. She had no idea of it’s sudden cause. The taste acrid, it burned inside her throat. She was certain that she saw something in the darkness, laying on the edge of the mattress. It looked like a furry caterpillar, or some strange sort of plant life and she watched as it moved away and disappeared. Had she dreamt it, she searched on the floor, but it had gone. Her breath was awful, had she swallowed something in the night, an insect perhaps? It felt as though something had died in her mouth and she felt the soreness within her throat. Had the infection from her ears travelled there? The thunderclap in her ears just a week before had left her dizzy and disorientated as though her head was under water, she was not able to hear properly.

Looking at the clock she was wide awake. Three hours had passed since she had hit the sheets, exhausted and craving sleep. Was it a reaction to the stress? Acidic plasma filled her mouth, she hauled herself to the bathroom resisting the urge to be sick. Minutes later her tongue sore from scrubbing with the toothbrush as she tried in vain to rid her mouth of the bitterness she inspected her mouth for signs, the now familiar white lumps had appeared again at the back of the throat. she hoped that she would not suffer with another outbreak of ulcers to join them, but feared that it may already be too late. In recent years, they had become her body’s first deep distress signal. Her mouth swollen and sore, her lips feeling as they were on fire…
The past month has been rather dark at times. Don’t get me wrong, it is not all doom and gloom, I have had moments of Happiness thrown into the mix and clarity at times, but I have been suffering with a physical illness which really took a hold of me, causing infections, delirium and fever to ravage the body and manifest in so many ways. It has rather taken me out the way of my path to Happiness, which I had decided to journey onto and up until then I had felt that I was doing quite well.

It always catches me out on how illness can affect the brain as well as the body. I should be prepared for it by now, after years of illness with Endometriosis caused havoc upon my brain and eroded the person that I was going to be, there was so much that needed to heal. It is logical that when the mind or body is under stress, then it has to come out somewhere. But I often feel that they are seemingly unconnected it can cause your worst feelings to come up to the surface, fear, loathing, depression etc and memories you had buried from the past all racing to the fore.

Once the illness is gone, you start to rebuild what you know and try and return to your normal self. Sometimes it is easy, other times difficult, at the moment, the feeling of what I have been going through for almost a month now is still fresh and raw in my mind and I am not yet over it. I guess I am trying to rush the process, having felt that I should be much better by now, my creative juices have dried several times during this, although there have been spurts of writing, it has not exactly been the flow which I had experienced prior.

It changes you though, you feel things are never quite the same again, when you have experienced the ravages of the fever demons tormenting your mind and body and starving you of sleep when you are wracked with pain. Whatever the hell this was, I certainly don’t want it back. I will be glad when it is over and wave it goodbye. It’s a proven fact that people are getting more sick, it can‘t always be avoided I know, but it knocks you for six when it hits. I also make a mental note to stay well away from anyone who is unwell and boost my natural vitamin intake wherever possible.

Keeping it for Best

045The tattered duvet cover was once her best one, she had purchased it after moving into the house, five years before. It was embroidered with silver and pewter and gunmetal on a white background, she would dress the bed in it, if there were people coming over who might see it as they were going past the room.

She looked at the now faded colours, the bleached marks, pulls and loose threads. There was fur where the dog had been laying on it and a small hole, where the spark from a candle had fallen. It had caught on the bedpost and formed a small tear. She suddenly realised that all of this had significance.

This is what Life can be like just after five years… With all that gets thrown at it, it can become tired, exhausted in fact. But you can still find comfort in it, however battered it may be. When others take a look, they can see clutter, old things of the past, things that should be thrown away, but yet you are inclined to take comfort in some of the past and the sentiment you hold for it.

Deliriously Deluded Ramblings. Vol 1

048Well, that might actually be a little harsh, but there are times such as now when I feel that anyone looking in on my world at this split second, might think I was. I have been feverish for a couple of days, thanks to the bugs which were passed to my beloved and having given him a week of care, antibiotics and myself a large pat on the back for being able to avoid it, as they say, pride comes before a fall. So stumble into bug filled oblivion I did, with a mighty crash over the Easter weekend. Thank fully, I had the foresight to go and do some shopping to tide us over for a few days, when I had started to feel a bit “under par”

I coped with all of the usual things and then yesterday it hit me, like the proverbial tonne of bricks. So here I am at 3am sitting with a rather fetching hat which covers my extremely painful ears, a scarf around me covering my sore throat, fluffy slippers (de rigueur) and my pyjamas, due to the temperature I am currently sporting, I have also joined him in a course of antibiotics, in the hope that if I catch it now, it will not go to my chest as well as the places it is already wreaking havoc.
All in all it’s not my best look, but he told me he loved me and that I am beautiful before he left me to sleep, but he is delirious still, I’m sure of it. I tried to sleep, but have not been able to do so, so got up again with my painkillers.

Like a short circuit. I am hauled from my deep sleep and dreams, it is as though I have walked for miles over hot coals.
As my feet touch the cold floor, there is a searing, like steak on a barbeque, the heat travels up my legs in an unexplained painful sensation.
It has happened so often, as though 3000 volts have just been switched on and I am jolted again into life. A standing start from which to let the dog out in the middle of the night. As I return to the warmth of the bed, my feet throb and the blood pulsates through my veins, surging like a faulty power supply. Or perhaps just this power surge. Releasing heat like a powerful firework, a bursting rocket upon the sky, as the sparkles fall to the floor, intense and strangely moving as they land.

The electricity dissipates, it ebbs away over time leaving restless legs again throughout the night. I take a sip of water and raise the glass to my forehead, feeling it’s coolness, and resisting the urge to pour the whole glass over my head, knowing that water and electricity don’t mix and risking it once again.

Draw your Dragon, A Dream and Instruction.

DSCN0414I have been thinking about dreams in the past few months and at times I have delved into what hidden meaning there might be, sometimes they are interlinked from dream to dream and other times, seemingly unconnected. There was another couple of dreams that I had, two that I recall upon waking this particular night and one which I want to share with you.

The first was a very simple image of me drawing a dragon. I often have dreams that I can draw, that I am creating a beautiful picture. I don’t know why I was drawing a dragon, but on waking, I decided that I should. It didn’t come out how it looked in my dream, but they never do when I draw things, especially creatures. However, I followed what seemed to be a very clear instruction and then a very clear message came to me, as though someone had spoken…

“You are still here for a reason, they did not destroy you. Draw your dragon and breathe fire. If you were meant to be finished by these people, it would have happened. But you are still here, Breathe Fire”.

Whichever way you might choose to read it, it was certainly a message which I needed to hear at the time and that thought will stay with me…

The Dragon pictured is one I have photographed, it was on a building in a beautiful place I once visited, the Chinese Museum in Brussels, Belgium. My drawing couldn’t do it justice.