Thankful you are mine.

In the beauty of the night,
Imagining the stars align.
I must admit It does feel right,
Here you stay my guardian.

I guess some things are meant to be,
Me with you and you with me.
Who would have figured years ago,
That away from me you’d go.
I’d pushed you to such a degree,
In a terrible state I couldn’t see.
But thankful of the day you returned,
So sad to lose, my heart it yearned.
But you arrived, when you came back
Here to love and not attack.

You were reserved we took it slow,
was so much you had yet to know.
Removed me from hurt and distress,
A loving place to repair the mess.
Wrapped me up in arms so strong,
Wondered why it took so long.
Sat there with me when I was unwell,
We have at times been through hell.
Picked up the pieces of me to mend,
Side by side with me my friend.
Many years have now since passed,
But our love is built to last.

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A place we call Home.

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The Vistas looking out to sea,
Are where my thoughts carry me.
Birds in flight, the waves and spray,
Watching as they fly away.
Taking off for warmer climes,
Distantly a clock tower chimes.

Fox cubs fight to gain their place,
In this beautiful, cherished space.
Deer will wander breezily through,
They stop a while to admire the view.
A windswept walk on a quiet lane,
What do you see when you go again?
There’s always something to notice anew,
When there’s the dog, your thoughts and you.
Trails and flowers, animals and Bees,
Spotting something between the trees.
The wonderful sight of a hovering Hawk,
The occasional rambler stopping to talk.

Not knowing what tomorrow will bring,
Is part of the beauty in Winter or Spring.
Snow as far as the eye can see,
Peace and quiet for just us three.
Daffodils soon start to appear,
So glad that we have travelled to here.

The mottled light from Summer sun,
Just see how peaceful we become.
Alone with your thoughts up on the hill,
Haunting my dreams for the calm and still.
Sat out the front like a King on his throne,
Surveying the land in the place we call Home.

In Autumn the colours of fallen leaves,
Will truly make you think and believe
The gorgeous carpet of red, brown and green,
Is second to none as I walk through unseen.
As night time arrives the cattle are lowing,
The fire is lit and my face is glowing.
There’s smoke in the air, coffee in the pot,
My favourite chair, we have the lot.
As I watch my beloveds slumber,
I sit by the fire watching the ember.
No one can take this feeling away
Of time well spent at the end of the day.

Inspiration? Carpe diem.

IMG_1079 As a fledgling writer I’m consciously aware of the effects of my writing upon those around me, as well as being concerned as to how things are received. The latter being probably what stopped me for so long. Since when I write my poetry it can arrive at the most inopportune moment and I have to get it down on paper, like opening a flood gate, or turning on a tap I do not wish to interrupt the flow, in case I lose it. Of course, I can return to it later to edit it, but , I do tend to write it as soon as it arrives.

I am often found scampering from the shower, drenched in a towel to get to a notepad and write something down, which would look rather odd to the fly on the wall. I probably should keep an etch a sketch in there or something, which doesn’t get wet when you write on it, I have several crinkly notebooks now.

I have pulled over when driving around on my way somewhere, or returning from a particular place or situation and I also tend to use the voice recorder on my phone if I cannot write it down at that moment.

At times this has me sitting up late into the night or waking up in the early hours, with the light on, writing on a shorthand notebook which I keep by the bed. Of course this can easily disturb others within the home. Last night it was the dog and I did not want to disturb him since yesterday he had been unwell, he huffs around and blows my concentration and is restless for the remainder of the night and grouchy the next day.

So, last night this resulted in my writing in the dark as things came to me in the early hours of this morning. I am getting used to the effects upon my sleep pattern of writing and thankfully am able to rest after I‘ve got it all out of my system, but at times, that has taken hours and I find myself giving up on sleep and tired the next day. As a very small child I used to read in the dark if I couldn‘t sleep after lights out, with a teddy bear under the covers, I used to save my pocket money to buy small torches which could not be seen. I remember being out with Mum once and she asked why I wanted a torch, I told her it was “for kissing bears under the covers.”

But until last night I had forgotten how exhilarating writing in the dark can be, of course your handwriting is different to in your waking hours, you might be half asleep, dragged from your slumber by random words, or phrases. It flows all over the page words sometimes running into each other and will not follow the lines, wiggling uncontrollably. Sometimes, you will even misspell the words as you write them, if awoken you might not recall where in the word you had got to. In the morning, upon review you will see that your writing differs greatly, you are trying to space the lines more carefully so that they don’t run into each other, and you can’t actually see what is on the page. But, I found that my senses were heightened and my thoughts clearer, a host of words which I have not tended to use before, came to me and appeared on the pages.

Last night my thoughts were racing, three separate subjects came to me and would not leave. So I have the basis at least for a few new pieces, plus a brainstorming word page.

So if you haven’t already tried this and are looking for inspiration, do not put it to the back of your mind when it strikes, I recommend that you Seize the Day, or moment actually!

Gone but not Forgotten.

Although I think of her almost every day,
The clocks don’t stop because she’s away.
Always had a shoulder to lend,
A beautiful garden she would tend.
She’d sometimes remember, Life was Grand,
As I’d sit and hold her hand.
Speaking of places and things done,
Back with a smile, she would come.
Quick witted with a smile,
She’d keep you laughing for a while.
Bright flowers clothing and scent abound,
You always knew when she was around.
A “little drinkie for you and for me”
Things in a new light then we’d see.
A glass of wine and a toast,
“To the lady with the most”
A sparkling person, with such flair,
You wouldn’t upset, just wouldn’t dare!
Well travelled and highly educated,
Friends from the start, we were fated.
Languages spoken from afar,
Our fun days out in her little car.
Enjoyed good food to compliment,
Turned a few heads, wherever she went.
A bright light, where it once shone,
Now up above in heaven you’ve gone.
For I am sure it’s where the good people go,
You’re one of them I used to know.
One year today since she passed,
But in my memory she’ll last.
My mother in Law, Heaven bound,
So sorry to say, she’s no longer around.
If you’re thinking of us, please do send
Some sign to show you’re there my friend.
Loved and lost won’t ever forget,
In our hearts no time for regret.

Was Once a Garden.

We walk around the family home,
It was so plain to see.
The lack of love that it’s been shown,
Since left by you and me.
That it had been left way behind ,
Pushed away to the back of our mind.
No-one welcomed there to stay,
So we just upped and moved away.

I walked around the garden,
It was once so tended with care.
But since your sentiments harden,
And you are no longer there.

I felt the urge to help it,
You also did I feel.
Picking up bits and debris
Just wanting it to heal.

It used to be so large and free,
A place to read under the tree.
The summer house was cosy too,
Looking out upon the view.

A fish pond which you took weeks to make
Gone forever, for goodness sake!
Bushes and shrubs all overgrown,
But at least the grass was mown.

A broken window, a damaged chair.
Pieces of plastic, strewn over there.
There’s broken pots and damaged things
But in the bushes a bird still sings.
Walking around the fallen leaves,
Memories and treasures under the trees.

As we hunt around begin to explore,
The items laying upon the floor.
Hiding around behind the shed,
We find the old puppy’s bed.
From years before flooding back,
Between the eyes with a thwack.

Memories from the past it will bring,
As we discover another old thing.
A shuttlecock from badminton,
The list when you start, goes on and on.
Decorations, my old fish tank,
The fountain from which, no-one drank.

It seems as though it’s shown like a person it hurted
After we’d gone where it’s been deserted.
But in the midst where we sit
With Spiders webs round all of it.
A trail through the middle, where foxes roam
A playground for them, to call their own.

Spring is here and through the mess,
A moment to show it’s happiness.
A glimmer of a reconstruction,
In around all of the destruction.
Nature is stronger than we think
Brings itself back from the brink.

Isn’t it strange?

I am constantly amazed as to how even though it is sometimes painful, I seem to dwell upon the past so much.  There is so much in it which I would rather forget, yet it haunts me and will not leave, opening up from time to time things long forgotten.  Like the proverbial plaster ripping which opens the wound again, just as it has begun to heal.

That’s not to say that all of the past was bad, far from it in fact.  I have many moments which I also dwell on because they bring happiness, memories of loved ones, experiences and moments which I would not want to lose.

I find that sometimes, a thought will pass and something within me just reaches out and grabs it.  Something clings on instead of letting it go, suddenly in that moment I can relive it.  I am there, in the moment.  Wouldn’t it be great if at that point, in times where things have gone wrong, or pain is caused I could put them right, change the way things went. To be able to make them better, remove the hurt that may have been caused.  Extend the happiness. If only…

Almost a Biker

I once had a motorbike,
Painted in the colours I like.
Bright paintwork in yellow and black,
Better for road than for track.
A custom bike with plenty of chrome,
Visions I had of going to roam.
Out on the open road once more,
A beautiful thing with a throaty roar!
I got all the kit and dressed in the leather,
Protected from every kind of weather.
Wearing all of the outfit he loves,
Jacket, Boots, Helmet and Gloves.
Blood racing through me thudding my chest,
Excitement builds I’ll be joining the rest.
On Saturday mornings, coffee en-route
Someone you know, give them a toot.
Bike training then was even a pleasure,
Into the country, moments to treasure.
Taking in the air as you go by,
Feeling as though being able to fly.
Out on the road from my worries I’d hide,
Forget them all as you begin to ride
For a time so easy to be,
Someone else who’s so carefree.
Once I’d got my ticket you know,
I sat on the bike ready to go.
I started up and the throttle jammed,
Into a wall on the bike I slammed.
I’d hurt myself and damaged by back.
And from the experience I would lack.
Suddenly my dreams as a biker no more,
As I was pinned upon the floor.
Couldn’t get from under the bike you see,
Was trapped just too darn heavy for me.
Rescued by a helpful friend,
For the bike and I, the end.
6 months of pain and physio,
Off to the doctor I had to go.
The bike was stored, then fixed and sent,
For someone new it was now meant.
My injuries healed, they did not last,
But having a bike’s all in my past.