Writing up the Past and A Pair of Shoes.

In the last few weeks I have been working on a novel, which relates to aspects of my past, so I have been digging deeply without trying to let it swallow me up. It has been difficult to both recall and write about. So the novel itself may be a long way off. Although I have started writing, I have been relying upon memories which have not all been easy to dig up again and so dealing with the demons which inevitably come out to play in the process. All whilst trying to maintain the status quo and a happy home life. It has been a bit of a strain and the posts over the past couple of weeks have been up and down along with my emotions and thoughts.

It feels quite cathartic to have finally typed up all my poems which have languished in the loft all these years, after finding them last week. There would have been 40 of them. A nice round number (and I do like those) if there weren’t two missing, perhaps I threw them away in disgust a reminder of a love that once was, but that is unlikely. I wrote an index of them all along with the dates they were written, even approximately if I didn’t know the actual one. There are bound to be others kicking about in notebooks, handbags etc which I may find years from now, the one I wrote for my friends wedding still eludes me, along with the other items which I have yet to find. I fear moving in case one of the items I have been searching for, gets disposed of, so I will continue to hunt for it until I can find it again, although that may take some time. Meanwhile, whatever gets thinned out is getting checked over very thoroughly for that piece of jewellery until it turns up.

I have tried really hard to not judge myself too harshly since I started to go through them, whilst muttering “Gullible child” under my breath quite a lot. The facts of the matter are that I wrote all of these during the ages of 16-20 and I was young and sometimes very foolish back then. There are a lot about my “Loves” from way back then. At least I can rest assured that I have grown up a lot since then. It’s funny how the inner voice conversations go though, when you read something going back that far about yourself. I found myself thinking about my transformation over the past year or so and telling myself, “Who are you trying to Kid, you are still the same person as when you wrote them“, whilst arguing the fact with my inner voice. I am not! (she shouts like a five year old, almost stamping her foot) Lots of years have gone by and I know that I have learned a lot, however it has not been a joyful few days and quite emotional and I have probably been rather teenager like at times. Just wanting to get it done in the single minded way, which isn’t really fair. So I have also been trying hard to get other things done for the family too, so that they aren’t left out. However I have still been able to relate to the person I was when I wrote them, not the ones which are about the Loves in my life, but about the feelings instead.

I will share only some of them, others’ I have deemed “not fit for consumption,” so will stay where they are, I resisted the urge to edit the hell out of them although some of them have been slightly tweaked, they are raw like I was back when they were written and they would lose their integrity and make them something new. Maybe that would be a good thing after all, but as yet I am undecided.

Anyway, here’s one I wrote and do want to share with you, It‘s called A Pair of Shoes, I wrote it 23 years ago. I laughed when I read it again, thinking that even way back then, I loved a metaphor. The shoes did actually exist, now if only I could remember which ones they were….

A Pair of Shoes

At the moment, I feel like a pair of shoes…. 

I bought them two years ago.
They’ve been in the box ever since.
I like them.
But I’ve never actually “Needed” them.
They might be useful at some point.
Occasionally I take them out and look at them.
I didn’t want to get rid of them.
Sometimes I try them on for size and they’re comfortable.
Then I put them away,
Until next time.

 

Up on the Roof, Thinking Space

I recently read a wonderful page which mentioned being up on the roof. and in a flash of inspiration I returned for a moment to my favourite place in our second childhood home.

When I was ten years old we moved away from school and the friends that I had come to know and travelled to a new place. I was full of hope, finally getting away from the children that had terrorised me up until then. This would be the chance for a whole new existence. As the youngest child at the time, I was happy to have the smaller bedroom, it overlooked most of the garden, had a nice window and I used to climb out of the window and sit on the bathroom roof. It had a small brick ridge to the pitch where it joined the house next door and it was just big enough to perch along it. I loved sitting out there, when things had all got too much, after arguments with my brother or friends at school, or my parents. It was my thinking space and I loved to take time out to be there. I always was told off if my parents found out that I had been up there, but I took the risk on so many occasions. It was slightly less dangerous once they had the new roof fitted after which I could see no real reason why I shouldn’t go there. Falling was never considered since I was always careful.

A couple of years later, my sister arrived and I very reluctantly had to move into the larger bedroom, having previously had the small box room for the first ten years of my life I always preferred the smaller room. Years later, when my brother was away, I asked to borrow his room and regularly ventured out up on the roof, much to the surprise of the new neighbours when they moved next door. From up there you could see both up and down the road in the gardens, I could also wave at my friend down the road, from his roof windows, when he was home.

I liked the height and the inaccessibility of a roof, most people I knew would not venture out there and as I grew older I later chose homes which were high up wherever possible. I felt somehow safer there. The balcony flats where I lived for 13 years, were fantastic for the views and I feel truly at home living up high, it also kept unwanted visitors out and I could enjoy the view, looking out over the rooftops and letting the imagination run wild once again.

International Women’s Day.

Since it is International Women’s Day, I thought I would head back to my childhood for this, little did I realise as I wrote it, the effect that it would have on my day and my loved one.  The journey into womanhood is not always easy, there are scars you bring with you and I am trying to heal as I go. In two minds as to whether this should be posted, at his suggestion, today is the day! I am thankful that he is alongside me and continues to offer support even when it is unexpected.

As We Grow.

For an afternoon, we get together.
Seems as though it’s been forever
It’s not often that you go out to eat
To sit and talk, a proper meet.

It gets me thinking of younger years
And suddenly I’m choking tears.
Growing up when times were fraught,
Don’t seek to blame, not always your fault.
To push and push and test and test
You only felt you were doing your best.
Taken to church on every Sunday
Ridiculed yet again on Monday

During the week off to school,
Often made to look like a fool.
When sometimes to the house they came,
I would hide myself in shame.
Of what had passed when out to play,
Just wanted to hide myself away.
Did I do wrong? Was I meant,
To hold in all of this torment.
I may have brought it upon myself
A thought when later it affects your health.

Time has passed and strength has grown
Since venturing out all on my own.
They say the times of sand have shifted
Sometimes I see the dark clouds lifted
And sadness takes such time to feel
The memory blurred enough to heal.

Should not be where your thoughts lay
What happened when you went away?
Life’s so different should you return,
But if you stay here you’ll have to learn.
Made to feel bad for a mistake
As your life you try to remake.
It’s strange that it comes flooding back
You realise there’s something you lack.

You didn’t know him well, or understand,
How to make his point, he’d raise his hand.
Wished sometimes for a slap in the face
Instead to put you back in your place.
But without this life, as they say
You wouldn’t be the same person today.
But down where these memories reside
Is where it still hurts deep inside.

A chance for a coffee, for a chat,
Not time to talk about all that.
Decided no longer to be a slave,
But as innocent, don’t try to behave.
For all those things in time gone by
To the back of your mind you must try
For it is now time to move on
Even you can’t undo the wrong.
Don’t dwell upon the past they say
It’s in the past, it’s gone away.

We don’t understand we have to forgive
Once we leave home, our lives to live.
As it’s been a long time since,
We now celebrate our difference.
Although in some ways we are alike.
I can’t get up or sing on a ‘mike‘.
But as enthusiasm starts to show,
For all the things that we should know.

Hope that forgiveness is to me
All that it’s cracked up to be,
I’m not as though heaven sent,
But glad we are so different.