Light & Dark

So I’m wandering around, in the light and in the dark.
Wondering about life and how I’ll make my mark.
Ambition to look forward, which will drive us always on.
But who really is to say, what is right and what is wrong?
There are so many of them, Unanswered questions in my mind.
As I sort through them all, I try to just remind
That this life is ever changing
For the good and for the bad
I am just resting here right now
Not really going mad.
Time is ticking onward and I want to move along.
Don’t want to reach the end, the fat lady sings her song.
Without finding a something that will set me there apart.
A confused misguided person, who just once followed her heart.
So leave it all to fate, or manifest your dreams.
And hope that it gets better than it often seems.
As tears have started flowing, my sadness rears its head
And that Karma works its magic, long before we are dead.
To hope that there is something, which out there good will bring
Back to us with fortune, love and faith within.

Through Thick and Thin

They couldn’t get between us.
Through thick and thin we’ve stayed,
Don’t always make a fuss
We saw it when they’ve played.
When things are sent to try us,
And be sure they often will.
Just know that I am by your side,
However you may feel.
Sometimes things are too much,
they try to get us down.
But I know there’s a smile,
Which hides behind each frown.

 

Glitter

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Glitter
Shower the air with a wave of glitter,
Shine on me, not feeling bitter.
Look up in the air and see the space,
While it falls upon my face.
Twirling myself in a daze,
Reliving some of those sunny days.
Arms up, reaching to the sky,
Worrying not about him or I.
Sprinkles resting on the floor,
Shining clearly, wanting more.
Glinting brightly in the sun,
Promise of the things to come.
Twinkle Twinkle, little star
Gazing down from afar.
Watching all the colours shine,
Kid myself I’m feeling fine.
Fingers through it they will trace,
Captured in time, a forgotten place.
Taken away for a moment there,
Happy, free, without a care.

via Daily Prompt: Glitter Image: Morguefile

Thinking Space

 

1-2Thinking Space.
Sometimes I need some thinking space,
Peace and quiet in this place.
To understand what we’ve been through.
Behaviour changes me and you.
A place from where we do not shout,
Where I can let it all come out.
We do not even have to speak,
When I am feeling oh so weak.
But quiet places where we talk,
No hustle and bustle for a walk.
It seems that as we rearrange,
Going forward time for change.
Emotions put away inside,
Dark and sad, we try to hide.
But there’s a place we go to rest,
When we do not feel our best
It’s where we think of when we’re still,
Peace and quiet upon the hill.

via Daily Prompt: Aware

Broken Pieces

Broken pieces.

All these years and all this pain.
I wonder what there is to gain?
From time spent waiting for them to mend,
Broken pieces of my beloved friend.
Just fix him up the best you can
So life goes on for this lovely man
You see he has still things to do
Mountains and seascapes, enjoying the view.
A day with smiles and without pain,
Would give so much to see again.
And signs of way down deep inside,
Where Happy used to once reside.
The brightness of a sunny day,
Can often chase his clouds away,
But damp and cold within his night,
Will often give him stress he’ll fight.
So take up the challenge, make him well
I know that only time can tell.
If he’ll be who he once was again
But years go by it’s not a game.
Places to go, people to see
He’s coming there along with me.
He has so very much to give,
Give back his life to let him live.

 

In My Solitude.

 

(In My) Solitude.  A song that I have not heard for some time now it was on an album of  Aretha Franklin’s Greatest Hits which was given to me by my Great Uncle, when I was about thirteen years old and which I had cherished for many years.This song is one of my favourites from the album, which I would belt out singing in times gone by but I also find it slightly haunting when hearing it again, but have a love for it.  I think I was fortunate enough to make a cassette tape of it, but due to the damp in storage, too many things were ruined and so they were disposed of.

But I have been feeling pretty blue and it set me off thinking…

It also prompted me to write the following poem, my first in over a month.

In my solitude.

Oh Teddy you were so beautiful, it is plain to see.

It brings a lump to my throat to know that you are free.

And as my eyes fill with tears. I remember once again,

That in your face which I held near, you could not hide your pain.

But when we danced, around and round and laughter filled the air,

We sat upon the floor together as your paw stroked in my hair.

We often sat there thinking as your eyes gazed into mine

You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen and were simply divine.

My wonderful boy your expressions were just filled with love,

Remembering the times that you’d also cajole and shove.

I’m flicking through the photos that I will here keep on my phone.

I think of when we lost you and feel somehow alone.

In the flesh you are now gone, but in my mind you remain.

To not dwell in the past, I will try to refrain.

You fur kept as a keepsake, your ashes by the bed.

And as I say goodnight and rest my weary head.

I say goodnight to all of you, my safety there to keep.

And often think of you again, which always makes me weep.

The tears fall here again as I sit in solitude,

Thinking of the times we had and being so subdued.

The love that you gave to me, was second to none.

And as I hope to heal from loss, I’ve only just begun.

But now there is a new boy here to comfort me, he sits here at my feet.

The soppiest one whose staying near you’d ever hope to meet.

A loving boy we’ll cherish with a heart of gold

I hope he’ll stay with us for years till we all grow old.

Young Men aren’t supposed to Die.

 

A couple of days ago we said our final Goodbyes’ to my partner’s best friend Tommy. They had been in each other’s lives for over 40 years. So now my man is grieving again, for another lovely man like so many taken before his time.  I wrote this poem when he died.  His family did him proud though and gave him a nice service with wonderful tributes for a life well lived. He was a good man and a great friend to my partner and boy do we miss him.  This photograph was taken the day he died, from the slipway where he regularly launched his boat with his son and his friends, it is a special place. May he rest in peace now, but the memories and stories will live on.

Sometimes the sickness will deny,
But young men aren’t supposed to die.
The chance for them to fulfil their lives,
Not leave behind children and wives.
But what is young and what is old?
Who’s the one who’ll break the mould.
One with love, who’s heaven sent
A long and healthy life that’s meant.
Over the years he’d come to show
A friendship that would grow and grow.
So Dear Lord, hear my plea
Although from pain, this one’s now free.
But all along, much life to live,
For friends and family, love to give.
One dear friend who’d help the poor
In cherished memory, here no more.
I think of the extra time we’d happily buy,
Time spent to wonder, or understand why?
Taken from this life way too soon,
The light went out, an empty room.
They fought so hard to be the boss,
Left startled by such sudden loss.
So as I stop and loudly cry,
Young men aren’t supposed to die.

The Book is finally written… The Sentimental Journey – Poetic Stories Vol 1 by India Blue

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So, I finally have it.  The collection of Poems, some of which are here on the blog and others which are yet to be seen which are all neatly assembled into my book.

It will be called The Sentimental Journey – Poetic Stories Vol 1 by India Blue

Poetic Stories since that seems to be the form that I have found my poems often take. I am hoping to self publish it very soon that is after a few choice people have read it for me and given me their harshest feedback of course. With a bit of Luck, it will be available on Amazon Kindle, pending any more subsequent edits and I have re-scheduled my launch until November 2016.

Who knows, if I make the date without having to delay it due to the other things which have been going on lately and people actually read it and like it, then there may even be a Poetic Stories Volume 2, after all I have so many more poetic stories to share with you.

It feels as though progress has been slow, I finished it some time ago, but Life has got in the way somewhat since then and everyone seems to suffer with self-doubt and wondering if they are actually doing the right thing.

Now it’s time for me to get back on track and to write some more, watch this space…

Oh, and Wish Me Luck! 

The promise that my partner gets to read it first has been achieved, finally! He has taken the time on our trip to read it cover to cover and given me his opinions. Now that’s out of the way, a last tweak on the edit and I feel as though I can go ahead and get it out there at last.

 

In the name of Research, The Library and Books of Poetry

So since Today was a pretty grey day and I had some errands to run, I found myself walking past where I used to work years ago to visit the very unassuming library to do a bit of actual research, I was in a nearby town close to the family home.

Two things happened today, I ventured out to do stuff and in doing so, I put on a smart shirt, some perfume and some heels along with my jeans and a leather jacket, did hair and make up and felt like I had returned to the land of the living for the day. I refused to let the debilitating headache which has plagued for a week get the best of me today and now that the shakes have stopped (almost) I decided to get things done…

So having not got any answers as to how many poems in a book is a good idea. I thought I would flick through the shelves and look at the children and adult poetry sections there for inspiration or to at least figure that bit out.

I located one of the librarians who gave me directions to the bottom shelf, where I was faced with the grand sum of less than 2ft of one shelf with poetry books.  Hmm, I thought nervously, (and more than a little hopefully) maybe poetry is such a great thing that all the books are out.  Alas no, this was all they had, I hoped that my choice of genre was not a bad one after all.  That is not really going to light up my life is it, about 20 books!  Dismayed I sat cross legged on the floor, I opened the first book, the rough carpet under me since there was no sign of a comfy chair on which to sit and I was not going to be emptying the meagre shelf just for a look. I hoped that no-one would tread on me in their stampede on their way past to the craft afternoon which was just about to start and rather wished I had made the journey to the other old library, where I used to go as a child after all. Now that was all that you want a library to be. It was beautiful old building with solid wooden panels and shelves and you could lose several hours there with a good book looking out over some lovely gardens. Or perhaps the one in the nearest town to me, which is huge and has regular exhibitions and lots of seating.  But there I was for a a short time transported back to a world which reminded me that I love reading and if the floor is the only place to sit, it really didn’t matter.

I picked up the first book, which was a collection of the poetry that used to be on the underground. I was quite surprised that the book was over 300 pages deep, but then had large widely spaced text, small poems, one to a page or more and lots of chapter pages too, so a lot of that was information and credits.  There were over 100 poems though.  So if I am going to follow that route then I will need to write a few more and include all the ones I have already written.  

I picked up another book, of Love poems the contents slightly less at just under 200 pages, with about 20 of them being allocated to indexing and notes.

I found a few which only had 30-40 poems in them and some of them were also very short so it seems that there is a whole host of ways to go.

The things I noticed from my little bit of research about this is;

All the books listed the poems, in the index by the first line of the poem. 

Only some of them listed the poems by name.

They were not split into subject matter.

They were randomly included in each book.

Most had less than 180 pages including the indexes and afterward.

Almost anything goes…

So it seems that although there are no hard and fast rules about which way to go, for any of you who like me, are on the route to your first book of poetry, I hope this little list helps you out.

What struck me though was the bizarre mixture of poetry which jumped off the page and stuck in my head as I left there.  Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf by Roald Dahl, Still I Rise, by Maya Angelou and The Tyger by William Blake, all so vastly different.

I may have to visit the other libraries anyway all in the name of research of course! to see what else I can find out. I feel my research is incomplete, plus it will give me the opportunity to read a few more books and see what exhibitions are happening locally. Now who could pass up an opportunity like that.  Plus, I enjoy the silence with which to read, it makes the memories last so much longer without distractions. The silence was definitely missing in today’s library, there was noise and bustle and things going on, along with a loud conversation between the librarians about recycling and composting bags and how many of them they are selling at the moment.  Perhaps I am recalling times gone by, a flashback to the past, when libraries were a place for peace and quiet.  Perhaps it was that this was a small community library that they were holding events in the midst of it, so should I be seeking that serenity elsewhere?