Tag: poetry

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.

 

Natures Way


As you hear the wind through the trees,
Sounds on the ear to entice and tease.
Natures bounty there in the wood,
Planted here for the great and the good.
Will share its branches and bend its bough,
Save some for later, not all needed now.
Leave some behind, to heal and regroup,
Let nature keep you in the loop.
Berries and fruits, there to behold.
What was once a garden of old
And one day, will be so again,
If you take care and do not drain.
The resources it’s happy to share.
While you clamber among it there.

In My Solitude.

https://youtu.be/hgEnsK42V3M

 

(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.

In Gratitude 

In gratitude I sit

And remind myself of it.

Of all the things I feel.

How it reminds me that I’m real.

That I overcame the fear

And that I’m sitting here.

That I have a comfy bed,

Upon which to lay my head.

And friends to hold my heart,

Even when we are apart.

A family to hold me tight,

When I wake up wracked with fright.

Someone with love to bless,

Wouldn’t want for any less.

Thankful hear my call.

For the Gratitude in all.

We Won’t Panic! It is Done…

What’s she done now? would probably be my Mother’s response to this subject but she already knows the answer.
The other night I gave her the draft of my book The Sentimental Jorney -Poetic Stories Vol 1 to read before I publish it. I had told her some time ago that she could and asked her if she would just check it through for me before I hit the button on it.

I think you are getting the picture with my frustration at what I did next..

Yes I hit the publish button with the wrong date on it. Well nobody is perfect! 

I had my reasons, of course so that there was time to amend it beforehand but I would like for someone to buy the book before Christmas if possible. 

Mum went away promising to let me know when she had read it and give me feedback and since it was late and my partner had not yet arrived  home I thought I would upload the book to Amazon to check the layout I had amended. All good so far it fitted fairly well on tablet view.

Oh No, what have I done?

Suddenly im saving it I go a message which said that I had sent it for preview for pre-order. What shall I do now?  Panic! 

So I began praying that I’d be able to make changes if I need to, (like the date for starters) but more so what kind of idiot decides to publish their first book on New Year’s Eve for goodness sake!   So I was feeling rather foolish. I also   wonder if I have been greedy on the price… Well that didn’t take long did it? For the self doubt to start creeping in.

So this was not the post about publishing that I had hoped for all this time, when 4 months ago I finished writing it and waited for the family to read it.  I wanted to be able to shout out loud. “That’s it at last, it is Done” with some level of pride. I did not expect that I would be silently berrating myself for my carelessness in making this error in timing. I wanted to be happy that I had published when the time came. So a couple of days later I just needed to get my head back to a good place and set the thoughts free before posting this here and edit of course. I was able to change the date after all the panic so I am now actually able to say…

Here is the link in case you would like to buy a copy when it comes out this weekend Saturday 26th November for the kindle and don’t worry if you don’t have one you can download an app for other devices so that you can read it. 

Amazon Link – The Sentimental Journey – Poetic Stories Vol 1 by India Blue

I can’t quite believe that I can now   actually write that. That’s another tick on my list.

Please show me some love and share the link for me and I’d love to know what you think. 


The Boundary Line – A Poem

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The Boundary Line.

A tight rope marks the boundary line,
Of what is his and what is mine.
There it’s clear for all to see,
A wire runs across to the tree.
A simple border there to define,
A place where you don’t cross the line.
This is a marker there to set,
Just in case he tries to forget.
That there was more given generously,
So as not to cause animosity.
He talked about building a fence,
And when he started this pretence,
Of deciding where his border would go,
Removing the line, well wouldn’t you know.
The best way to do this is to remove the tree,
The one that’s there for all to see.
So he chopped it down and hid it away,
They wouldn’t find it when they came to stay.
But through carelessness, so sure was he
He didn’t count on the things I see.
I walked around and slung over there,
Was my tree stump short and bare.
I took the post with the wire grown through,
And positioned it, in full view.
A reminder of a boundary gone,
And the man who has done me wrong.
For twenty four inches more of land,
So that next to his house, a shed he’ll stand.
He should have asked and not just take,
But he will learn from his mistake.
He does not own, the whole hill,
This place where we are residing still.
We have not gone, are still around.
Here to remain and stand our ground.
They tell us strong fences, good neighbours make.
But he should remember there’s give and take.
Not take and take and just keep on
Until there’s nothing left and it all is gone.
So while he will sit and criticise,
He will do well to remember, that we’ve become wise.
To the stories he tells and the liberties taken,
Which at times, leave us upset and shaken.
But we will fight on and not be deterred,
And timing is right, has not been deferred.
We’ll be “saving our stamps” as he’ll often say
Until our help is required one fine day.
Then we might choose, whether to be
Those friendly helpful people he’ll see.
Or will he arrive at a closed door.
Advantages taken again, no more.
The boundary line has truly been crossed
When into the rubbish it was tossed.
It showed no care and disrespect.
For a friendship now gone due to neglect.


The Daily Post – Trust

The Hawk

Beautifully dancing, swooping the fields,
Stopping to notice the presence it yields.
Fields of straw over the way,
Looking down upon farmers gathering hay.
Swept upon current a different direction,
Sitting here watching, a time for reflection.
Farmland and country, forest and loch,
Wind so fierce, you reel from the shock.
Rain coming sideways to wash your soul clean.
Such beauty is this, in the place where you dream.
A pair of birds, searching for prey,
On this cold, damp Autumn day.
Ignoring the others, they fly overhead.
I’m filled with awe and with bowed head.
Seagulls over fly in the mist,
Searching for something they pass and they drift.
But with purpose it arrives with no squawk,
The careful hunter, the silent hawk.

The Daily Post – Waiting

Twenty One – A Poem

 

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This is the poem I wrote for my wonderful man as we celebrated rather simply our 21st Anniversary, we did not need anything fancy, as always we were just glad to be together, to spend the day doing something different, we visited an old favourite place and forgot our troubles for a while. He is my rock, there by my side through it all and I did not know that I would love him now more than ever. 

As we walk towards our future,
Place our footprints in the sand.
You will turn and smile at me
And I will hold your hand.
The life we have together,
Is not easy as it seems.
But after all these years have passed,
Your ’e still the Man of my Dreams.
Some thought we weren’t so suited
And try as they may to part,
But you are the right one Darling,
Who has always had my heart.
Although we’re not yet married,
It’s not been the right time.
We are still together
And we get along just fine.
We have had just Twenty One
And I’d like twenty more.
To see together what will come
And what life holds in store.
I knew quite soon I loved you,
You were special from the start.
Didn’t know that this time later,
You’d still hold firm my heart.
So as we celebrate this time,
And what life to us has thrown.
We will carry on just building
And know that we have grown.
Since people couldn’t break us
And we haven’t just forgot.
That we’ve had it so much longer
And better than a lot.
You see things are sent to try us
And try us as they may.
Out love just grows much stronger,
Each and every day.

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The Daily Post – Together

Images: Morguefile.com

The Nunight Song

For those of you who do not know, Nunight is slang for Goodnight.  In our house growing up we always used to say it, before heading off to bed and I carried on the tradition. Up until recently I used to play a particular piece of music for Kato and I to go to sleep to, it was Binaural music, intended to relax and sent both of us off into a calm and deep sleep in minutes although sometimes, we would play it twice.  I nicknamed it “The Nunight Song” he always knew when it was coming and would be snoring within minutes… I highly recommend it for peace and meditation if you have trouble getting into the right frame of mind and shutting all the other noise and thought out. I found mine via Mindvalley.com  Meanwhile, as we try to adjust almost two months later to the fact that he is no longer here, our days and our bedtime routine hasn’t got any easier and we miss him so much.

Nunight Sweet Pea, Our Darling Boy We love you xdscn4903

The Nunight Song…

As I play the Nunight song
And Daddy says he won’t be long.
Whilst I clamber on my bed
And say Goodnight to Little Ted.
I hope that I will feel you near,
As I wipe away another tear.
As time goes by and weeks have passed,
I wonder will the feeling last.
The one where every night to sleep
I lay my head and gently weep.
And feel the sadness of it all,
That you aren’t here to answer my call.
The raw emotion in my heart
As such huge loss, we are apart.
Until the day we meet once more
The Furry Son that I adore.
To see your fur, Black and White
Translucent shining, your eyes so bright.
To once again feel your kiss
And hold you close would be such bliss.