If she could sing Her voice would sound like fledglings On the wing in spring. But her songs are silent butterflies. Her musical wings have been clipped Along with her childhood, Her trust and spirit stolen. Extinguished through fear and betrayal. Occasionally she glimpse her image in a mirror She would mime with a hurt smile, “and the coloured girl’s go, do do do do do do do do do” But behind sad eyes screams a woman’s voice. Her desire paralysed through psychological war fare. In school she sings in unison. Nursery rhymes hymns playtime chants. No one there tells her to shut up. Or to keep secrets In the playground her shadow whispers. Until she reaches her front door. Then Once again the Joy that was song And colourful strings is mute! Injustice became victory & truth one Sunday Kindness touched her soul Acknowledgement gave her liberty As the inaudible screams soared towards the sun The battle was over for….. “and the coloured girl’s go, do do do do do do do do do”
Post Card from Canada
Post Card from Canada
(Picture of Vancouver Cruise Ship Center with a background of mountains. Cruise ship to Alaska)
Dear Brandon,
Having a wonderful time. Visited Gas St working street clock. Having Maple syrup and pancakes with ice cream. Been on a ferry trip to Vancouver Island, seeing seals flying along the water old Mustang on boat. Victoria on Vancouver Island seeing old red bus. Been to British Colombia Museum History of People Working Model Railway. Having English afternoon tea in Empress hotel, with water flying aircraft taking off in harbour.
From Mandy Year of 2018.
First time I went to Canada
First time I went to Canada, 1981. First city I visited, Toronto by Coach from New York. Fell in love. Saw travel holiday television show about Canada, wanted to find out more. Got DVDs and tapes, also books, read newspapers. I will be 70 in 2018, it will be a special trip. Good time of year in June with long days of light, getting flight and travel details. Few years ago, went on train from Prince George to Prince Rupert, British Colombia. Saw vast area forest and countryside with very small town and villages, saw from top of dome car with cup of coffee. When go in 2018, travel from Toronto to Vancouver from plains and rockies. Visiting Jasper and Baniff Lake Louise, also getting ferries from Vancouver to Victoria. There are wonderful gardens and wildlife, nice to dream about it. You can have a wonderful rail trip in Scotland, cost much less money. Hope my health is keeping good to go to Canada. Do not forget your updated passport.
Not a red rose or a satin heart
Not a red rose or a satin heart
After Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘Valentine’
A pencil writing
The words spill over my page
Then pictures appear
The photographic replicas
Of things to do
Gentle views appear
Objects in our lives
Things to come
My pencil draws on
Showing love and care
Quiet and hope
For a future love.
Cirrus Clouds Flying High
Cirrus Clouds Flying High
Spiky hedgehogs on feathered birds
Heaven-bound
white fireworks in the sky, explosions
floating on a breeze or
above the world
scurrying with the wind
Dreaming dreams of fairy things
of pineapple tops with wings.
Lemon Flower
Yellow Flower
I want to graduate to a peaceful mind
Like running a marathon, to master my mind.
Before I start running,
Like a baby in the world
I train, and travel, to Canada, in my mind.
I want to graduate to a peaceful mind
Out of hospital, with clarity,
To live a guilt free life.
I want to graduate to a peaceful mind.
Published a book, and bought a house,
Met a master of the Tabla
Out of hospital, that’s already done!
I want to graduate to a peaceful mind,
To finish my Masters in peace
Cuz Masters finish, no matter what.
They run the marathon
Finishing the race,
to master their mind Cuz Masters finish,
no matter what,
No matter what,
I want to graduate to a peaceful mind
Like a yellow flower,
On a summer day.
Happy Apples
Happy Apples
An anagram
Happy apples,
pleas sleap,
eas peapl
pleas sleap peapl.
ply,
sey ply, sey yep,
yep ply, yep lap,
yep lap,
happy apples.
I walked the permafrost with headphones on
I walked the permafrost with headphones on
No more winter
No more falling
No more wondering
No more lies
No more factories
No more T.V
No more salt
No more engines
No more idolised
No more stability
No more fractions
No more dead poets
No more sometimes
No more glass eyes
Life Train
Life Train
If you have become mentally ill, then yes you are unlucky. I and many more who know you will be feeling very sad too. We will be there for you, and rooting for you. Also, if you have found yourself to be delivered to a psychiatric ward then that is very sad too. Trust me people you know will be thinking of you and will come and visit you as regularly as they can. As angry as you are feeling, you are there because your family and doctor
and maybe the police want you to get back on track.
I would like to tell you about that track.
You are on a train, you are on a very long journey, this journey is your life. You have reached the first station. You are feeling very tired and not very well. Some people on the platform have noticed you through your window, they realise you need some help. So the station happens to be the psychiatric ward you are dwelling in. Whilst you are there you will meet the stationmaster (your psychiatrist). When you meet that person, you may well say – “Excuse me why have you taken me from that train? I am in a serious rush and I must get to my final destination now.”
The station master will hopefully say – “Hello passenger, some of my friends saw you on that train. These people are my messengers and they called me and told me what they had seen. Because I care and have cared for many passengers on many life trains of life. Because I care and have cared and have cared for many passengers and put many passengers on the next available life train, I would like you to put your trust in me, I will do my best to refresh you, fill you back up. I hope to fill you with a new zest for your journey, and when you are full and your zest is there and I am totally sure you are ready to get back on the next available train, I will smile at you, you’ll hopefully smile back at me with that new found zest in your eyes, I will give you my firmest handshake. Then I will give you your ticket back. Then my messengers will take you back to the platform, and wait with you for your train. Hopefully it will arrive on time, when it does you may feel a little nervous and unsure, so please try to remember the things I have said to you whilst you were in my waiting room, and step on that train with assurance, confidence, knowledge, positivity, peace and love.
This luggage will help you on your new life train. That train will reach many stops along its tracks. There will be a station at every stop. If you ever need a bit of refreshment or a rest at any stop, don’t be afraid to step off your train, and take a walk with the messengers to talk with the master.
If this ever happens there will always be another train, so once all our work is done you will be back on track. And I know you are in a rush, but remember a rushed job never gets done right.”
My name is James. The reason I know is that I am on the train in front of you, and I have become tired many times. Every time this has happened I have stepped off the train and gone for a talk with the master.
When I have been ready I always get my ticket back, and jumped on to the next train.
Our journey is long, as long as we look out of our windows we see many things and learn many things also. And as long as we keep ourselves safe and visit the master at any station, our journey will continue through life, trust me even people who aren’t mentally ill will need a break along their way, and I just hope they will never have to meet our station masters.
Get well soon and enjoy your ride!
I feel better when I..
I feel better when I..
Laugh till I cry, or get the giggles
Draw a line under thing that itched and niggled
Hugs and smiles that fill my heart with glee
To sing, to dance, To just be Me.
Change of Scene
I make an annual beeline for the coast
Test my flesh against the thrilling swell
At midnight snuggle down as warm as toast.
Leicester life’s not easy, work comes first
Cars and crowds fill streets from wall to wall
So make an annual beeline for the coast.
Sunshine, shrimps and cockles whet the thirst
Ice cream and lollipops keep tempers cool
At midnight snuggle down as warm as toast.
Sand in my socks, pants, shoes and shorts
But itchy grit in oysters helps grow pearls
So make an annual beeline for the coast.
Rock pools hide a whole new universe
Refreshed entirely by the glacial surf
At midnight snuggle down as warm as toast.
All holidays must end, I’m home at last,
Quickly kiss the friends I missed
Tell them to make an annual beeline for the coast
While I just snuggle down as warm as toast
I feel better when I am at the table
I feel better when I am at the table
When the pen is in my hand
Ink bleeding onto the page
Words, hey look words
Personal tiny miracles
It began with chalk on the pavement
Rich words from a cheap pen
I feel better when the page is full
Writing is something you do when you can’t sleep
With any luck you’ll forget that you ever needed to
Sleep is important, so are words
So is the pen
And the paper
And you
Any room will do
Any time will do
I feel better when it is all out of me
Writing is done by everybody
Words are like opinions
Everybody has them
I feel better when I realise this
Maybe you will too
Happy Exercise
Push me forward
Let’s get giving
Just in case
My heart is slowing
Faster, longer,
Fight the pain
I feel the endorphins
Released from my brain
Breathe
Breathe, and consider.
Use perspective, take the time
To appreciate the stars,
And the moon up in the sky.
Be thankful,
Take the chance to give.
Hold on to hope,
Not the negative.
Seek not reward,
But take the win in a smile.
Small steps taken,
Move us on all the while.
Be open, grow.
Banish fear.
Yesterday is gone,
Today is right here.
Down the valley and back
I feel better when I walk to Quorn from Barrow
On pavements laid by water meadows
Set close by the River Soar
Slabs stretch for half a mile or more
Bordered by the thick lush grass
Fields of forage fed by floods.
When rain has rinsed the surface stone
The pathway gleams as clean as new
High pitched pylons frame my view
Amphibia discharge their spawn
Runners and ramblers step in turn
To trickle through the watery marsh
Sometimes I’ll take a stick or staff.
Slabs might be raised or cracked or sunk
Briskly tread both rough and smooth
Better put my worst shoes on
So I can risk the mud and sludge.
Cattle, seagulls, herd and flocks
Swans in pairs and dogs in packs
Trace my footsteps if I run.
Liveried narrow boats in line
Fly flapping flags of pants and jeans
Through the Soar’s black liquid brew
Throbbing engines stir and screw.
Though my return is straight and narrow
From well fed Quorn to bony Barrow
Tin trailers on a caravan park
Wink temptation in the dusk.
Might orange sunsets light the sky
Above green grass where pavements lie?
Beyond the lenses
From my host I see beyond differences
deeper than the outer surface.
They disguise me, veiled behind lenses
but I see through these.
For some I am cells, capillaries and upside down retinal images;
for others false lashes, bright colours and drawn lines.
Laughter lines, crow’s feet, age lines
Don’t distract me.
Green, grey, blue, brown are the same to me.
Optical illusions are my party trick,
but don’t be under your own illusion
I am, as said, the windows to the soul.
I see the depth of every emotion
from the heartache of displacement to sheer undiluted happiness,
from early longing to the steadiness of old love
I see it all
And when two eyes look back it lifts me
when they see beyond my body to who I really am.
I climb a mountain
I climb a mountain
Walking steadily leaving life behind.
Away from the frantic high street,
away from the kids, the house.
No computer, no work,
no signal.
I breathe the cool, clear air.
I feel the stillness.
I look down and the world stretches in front of me,
my dog and I are happily alone.
The exertion energises and clears my mind,
Every step filling my body with the mountain’s steadiness,
every rock shares its jagged strength.
On the summit I am an eagle ready to fly,
I perch and ponder
fruit cake and cheese never tasted so good.
listen
Listen
Listen Hear the wind in the trees, gently tickling the leaves. Hear the tall grasses breathe in the summer’s warm breeze. I’m there with you. I hear it, too. I love you. Listen. Hear the distant train as it trundles away. Hear the sweet song of the bird that chooses to stay. I’m there with you. I hear them, too. I love you. Listen. Hear the crackle of the sticks as the fire grows quick, Hear the spark of the light as it burns so bright. I’m there with you. I hear them, too. I love you. Listen. Hear the snow falling silently, dulling the pain. Hear the roof holding strong, under the rain. I’m there with you. I hear them, too. I love you. Listen. I feel better when I’m there with you. I hear them, too. I love you.
wave March.
I feel better when I resonate with airborne hum over magnetic fields whose shape and colour morph time and tongue. I feel better when I am within scientific beauty hewn from generations whose brilliance, separated by centuries but bound by city walls, transform diagnosis and track the patterns. shaping fall and rise. I feel better when I tingle through the harmonies of human folk whose chords and truths thread cultures and faith. I feel better when I am walking through landscapes unchanged by millennia whose geometry, shaped for shelters sketched by deadmen’s shoes, couple ancestors and ribbon the times. switching chaos to order. I feel better when I sun bask eyes blind orange fleckled by azure dance whose rhythms and coupling beat to Maxwell’s drum. I feel better when I am dappled by light’s eternal nomads whose flashes, through sun tunnels dug deep by quantum waves, trigger sparks and shatter the dark. giving day from night.
The Occasional Runner
Well I am getting older. I’m surely not that unfit. Every man needs a belly . I just enjoy the odd cake. Anyway, beer’s good for the soul. Wine’s made of grapes, it’s one of your five a day. Everything’s bad for you these days. I’m sure I’ll manage it. I’m sure I’ll keep up. I’ve got all the gear. What do you mean no idea. I feel every step. My lungs do their best. Muscles pulse with heat. Heart pounding in my ears and chest. Drenched in sweat. Beginning to regret. It starts to come together. Body and mind in unison The endorphin’s hit every sinew. It’s over who would’ve thought it. Mind clear, body exhausted. All stress and worry left in the dirt. I’ll think I’ll do a marathon after all it wasn’t that bad. How much could that hurt?
Nan’s House
Well known sights, smells & sounds, Familiar footsteps on hallowed ground. A journey of habit made a thousand times. Through choice or obligation, All manner of occasion, Close or distant relation, They all belong here. A place of memory, history and foundation, The centre point calling across the nation. Breaking the everyday routine, Drawing everyone back to their mean. Where everybody is equally craving a kind look, smile or word, That place of sanctuary where I’m happy to be seen and even occasionally heard.
Mummy glue
Mummy glue
I open
The door
She is awake
Mood is not good
Still she gets up
She makes me breakfast
She messes my hair up
Tries to smile
Gets me ready for school
Checks the book bag
Places the dinner money in an envelope
Wraps herself in a long coat
Walks me to school
Smiles again
Kisses me
I still say
She is mummy glue
She is keeping it together
She is holding it together
She is the glue
That keeps me together
She
She
She talks to me
She reads to me
She listens to me
She cooks for me
She fixes the house
She will not let the illness control her
She potters around the house
Until she is ready
To sit in silence
When she thinks she is ready
Ready for her bed
Speak to Me, Serenity
Speak to Me, Serenity
Just sixty seconds
Every minute is the same
So why do my saddest minutes feel like hours on end?
Is this to reveal my shame?
Just sixty minutes
Every hour is the same
So why do my lowest hours feel like days on end?
Torture, yes, in all but name!
So speak to me, Serenity…
Take this sad soul by the hand, plant my feet in warm, soft sand
Oh speak to me, Serenity…
Wrap this heart of lost desire, in love’s warmth beside the fire.
So speak to me, Serenity…
Bathe this troubled mind in peace, bring the sleep of sweet release
Oh speak to me, Serenity…
Wash the shadows all away, giving hope for this new day.
Twenty-four hours
Every day is just the same
So why do my darkest days feel like weeks on end?
Who’s the person I should blame?
Seven days, they say,
Every week is just the same
So why do my hardest weeks feel like months on end?
Don’t want to play this mindless game!
So speak to me, Senenity…
Take this sad soul by the hand, plant my feet in warm, soft sand
Oh speak to me, Serenity…
Wrap this heart of lost desire, in love’s warmth beside the fire.
So speak to me, Serenity…
Bathe this troubled mind in peace, bring the sleep of sweet release
Oh speak to me, Serenity…
Wash the shadows all away, giving hope for this new day.
Serenity, oh Serentity…
Speak to me … and set me free
Serenity, oh Serenity…
Be my strength and liberty
Oh sweet serenity…
I feel better when I am writing
I feel better when I am writing
Sat still, sat poised I write free
This gift of writing is time set aside for me
The pen on the paper, the words just flow
I never know what I’ll be writing or which way I will go
I write out thoughts, feelings and worries, I unravel and unwind
A few brief thoughts on paper, enough to untangle my mind
There are notes on happy days, an idea for a short story or a list of things to plan
It’s always surprising what appears on the page, I write when I can
So stop a while to sit and write,
A calming thing to do,
Remember you write for no-one else
You only write for you
Breaking free
Breaking free
A barbed wire cage of shame imprisons me.
My feathers plucked, jaw cracked, I nurse my sores,
bedraggled, bloodied, gagging to be free.
I feel unclean. Abusers sneer, agree
blame lies with me alone. Support withdraws.
A barbed wire cage of guilt imprisons me.
My fractured wings hang limp. I puke. I pee.
I peck. I squawk. I scratch with sharpened claws,
bedazzled, bloodied, struggling to be free.
Dark deeds denied, dismissed as fantasy,
injustice fuels desire to settle scores.
My barbed wire rage implodes, imprisons me.
Perhaps if this… or that… or they could see
the truth… I bargain, beg, implore just cause,
bedeviled, bloodied, haggling to be free.
I pause… forgive, reclaim autonomy.
I rise on eagles’ wings, my spirit soars
as barbed wire softens, shrinks, releases me.
No grudge or shame, acceptance sets me free.
I feel better when…
I feel better when…
I smell new books, a bonfire, fennel tea;
I hear winds whisper, whistle, murmur, swirl;
I stroke a conch shell, polished ebony;
I see a rosebud ready to unfurl;
I knit a trauma teddy, twiddle-muff;
I play my oboe, scrape its pesky reeds;
I write a sonnet, therapeutic stuff;
I feed my garden robin sunflower seeds;
I find my voice, you empathise with me;
I lose my fear, fight stigma, shun taboo;
we share ideas, campaign for dignity;
you love me for myself, not what I do.
Now still, I know the truth of Abraham,
the everlasting arms. I AM: I am.
Out of the Blue
Out of the Blue
I lay back on the grass
Ponder the past
Tortuous pain
Won’t let the blue mood last
Because from out of the blue
An incredible view
Where the clouds become cliffs
The sky an ocean of blue
And I dream
I dream of holidays
Warm soothing seas
My imaginary place
To escape reality
Colour the mood to a different hue
Cast off the pain
Dive out into the blue
Savour the moment and live again
Come on out of the blue to
An incredible view
Where the clouds become cliffs
The sky an ocean of blue
Mindfulness
I feel better when……..
I close my eyes and listen
Absorb each sound I hear
The serenity of nature
My mind begins to clear
The distant hum absorbs me
Entwines me in its peace
The present feels a better place
I feel a slow release
Each creak, each tick, each rustle
Is a magnet to my mind
I listen with a purpose
Distractions left behind
I hear my breath and heart beat
The rhythm of my soul
My body is my temple
And my mind regains control
Mindfulness by Helen Washington
Congratulations Helen!
Smile
Smile
I feel better when I see the sun shine in the morning
Cat purring in my ear; dog yawning lazily from a night curled up on the floor
Birds singing loudly perched within the trees
And the traffic outside is quiet as the day for me begins
I smile when the flowers are blooming bright and bold and proud
Dewdrops glistening balancing on leaves
Spiders spinning webs galore, rainbows high above the sky
Butterflies flying, bees buzzing and birds dancing along washing lines
My dog running across the fields on a sunny day makes me smile
Tongue wagging out the side, eyes so wide
Looks like she is laughing as she runs head held high
Leaping across the swaying bushes, tail towards the sky
My granddaughter balancing on her toes trying to reach me
The grin on her face as she greets me
Clapping her hands, singing and dancing
Laughing and giggling, that always makes me smile
So when my heart is heavy and I start to feel down
I think of these things to turn it around
I close my eyes and visualise and
then I feel much better; then my heart begins to smile.
Autumn
Autumn is a time of many shades
Unending colours of myriads of leaves
Tiny insects find their nests under and between the clusters
Up until the spring appears no knowledge of life will emerge
Merging into the colours of the next years new chapter of life
Never repeating the formation of years before
Autumn
Autumn comes but once a year
Under trees new homes appear
Trees are losing all their leaves
Up above an empty nest
Magpie cottage looks its best
Now you’ll wear your winter vest!
Autumn
Autumn time now.
Urban pathways littered with leaves
The colours are gorgeous
Umbrellas for chilly rain shower
Misty garden, early rising
Nature shows its beauty to all
Spring Time
Songbirds are singing, snow is melting and swallows are nesting
Primroses and Robins and butterfly’s and pansies
Rivers rushing with melted winter snow and rabbits playing.
Icicles melting in the frozen snow
Narcissi, newts and new shoots.
Green grass on hills surrounding babbling brooks and daffodils
Trees, tadpoles and tulips.
Iris flowers around the streams I am lucky to stand here in the midst of them
Marigolds with bright golden heads and mistletoe for wishing, with frost on melting.
Evergreen and the smell of earth as the sun warms the winter crust, every sound and whisper is heard across the countryside fluttering in the new breezes
Mother Natures Daughter, Autumn
Mother nature and her four daughters
Spring, summer, autumn and winter.
Autumn, she sprinkles her colours of red, yellow and brown
And says goodbye to summer
Autumns sweeping brown bears promises of beauty
Under a waning sunlight fast disappearing
She softly patterns falling leaves with her dainty feet
And whispers tales of love to friendly wind
Who has started to whistle and blow
Her mother slowly guides her through natures fields of green and gold
As the urban fox runs and plays with falling leaves, too weak to run and hide
Autumn laughs and waves goodbye to summer
Keep the Faith
Cherish it always
Don’t worry
Happy days are also around the corner
Keep the faith
It works for me
And will for you
Feel Better
Would you like to touch this magic tree?
It’ll make you feel better.
It’ll take all your worries away,
They’ll never be another grey,
Day full of foreboding, cloudy thoughts,
Fraught, frazzled, scattered brain,
It’ll take away all the pain,
You’ve ever felt,
Stroke it’s leaves and you will melt,
Into a pool of pure, peaceful, radiant bliss,
You’ll forget that haunting last kiss,
That long lost lover you miss.
No more having to put up with all this,
Stress, mess, money less, something to confess,
Tired, lonely, moany, if only, and yes one day,
One day, I’ll be ok.
This tree can take all that away.
But my friend it comes at a cost,
For something you gain, there’s something you’ve lost.
You’ll lose all the backbone that made you strong,
Each vertebrae of lessons learnt, mistakes made and epic failure.
You’ll lose all your memories, the good and the bad.
For your worst moments, sometimes you’re glad.
The cringe, the cry, the heartbreak and the grief,
All make up the pattern of your strongest belief.
That things will get better, that there’s more life to be had.
And that, my friend, can never be bad.
So take this tree, and water its roots.
For beneath the surface is really the fruit,
Your morals, your passion, your life’s ambition,
Water the roots, and your dreams will come to fruition.
Immortal Madness
The pathos of these dolce, ethereal flute notes – enchant me, as too the artistry in my paintings, unattainable prior to the onset of my Furies; Pure, absorbed, all concaving concentration consumes Even amalgamates within my veins… Symbiotically returning me into that all solutionary, Angelic elusive Heaven. Yet the alien extrinsic pressures and irritants of the Underworld, penetrate by means of ambush into my sweet celestial happiness: How do you feel about a Section, Sylvia? The familiar Wards, Sections, Sagas and tablet-time Is my hair manifesting into Medusa’s serpents? Who’s Hades, if I am Persephone? Hypnotism. I revolt, I crumble, I die – Fie! And I hate you with all my anger! That September, I had gorged all the wild berries, Mushrooms and succulent chartreuse leaves. I left my fighting spirit in the Asylum Many years ago, as a child did in another time.
Tree
The tree locked in by
Thick encrusted cylindriform bark
Shutting it out from sky, sun shine, moon light.
Rough winds shudder thud and slam against its
Massive woody hulk.
Within tight cytoplasmic cells, membranes surround
Living organisms.
Tissues and DNA
Cramped and clustered with bacterial entities
Huddle and battle for survival.
A smell of urine and bodily materials at its base
Where casual drunks, the homeless and love-struck passers by
Have carelessly left their forensic identities
Slopped out in the ancient cracks and crevices of its skeletal root system
Protruding from the ground in grotesque architectural gestures
Distorted and constrained.
Adults and children play in the dark inner cavity
Spying at the outside world through gaps in
Nature’s perpetual
Entertainment model.
Sunday walkers, youthful gangs and family groups
Shuffle round at certain times and on specific days staring, mumbling,
Blowing smoke from secret cigarettes and joints, hiding,
Contemplate and argue on
the justice and
Injustice of their human state, how they got here and what will happen
When they are finally released.
Watching and Waiting
Watching her sleeping,
her little chest rising and falling,
eyelids fluttering,
lips softly parted.
Her hands are delicately cupped,
comfortably beneath her chin,
her knees slightly bent.
I’m wondering what she’s dreaming.
Hoping she’s playing with the fairies,
in a meadow full of flowers.
That the sun is shining
and the birds are singing.
She wriggles her toes
as the alarm clock goes.
I feel better when she opens her eyes,
for I’ve missed her as she’s slept.
“Hello Mummy,
I’ve been dreaming about fairies”
she murmurs,
as she stretches, and yawns.
Love Puppets
Another day another enchantment, as my naive heart seeks it’s nourishment, and I hope for things that are seldom seen.
With you, is there hope of an unfulfilled dream?
Or will confidence shake?
And reality awake to the sight and the sound of a world run aground?
Will loneliness be my only caress – or fate surely thrust the two of us into life with each other?
where we could discover that two against the world can win.
Then this fragile heart can really start giving.
” I feel better.”
Well, I must be feeling better
for I feel better when
I awaken in the morning
and can face the world again
Well, I must be feeling better
for I feel better when-I know
I no longer have to dwell
In that dark place that I go
Well, I am feeling better
for I felt better when
I’d bathed and dressed and met the day
and became myself again
Well, I do feel better
better than I ever felt before
my demons are just memories
I will visit them no more.
Beyond The Pane
The view has become full of promise
As nesting birds in pairs
Signify a change of luck
And flowers, as if in a relay race
Pass the batten from one species to another;
Krokus’ and Snowdrops to Daffodils
Daffodils to Bluebells and Tulips
Earthworms and roots below are furiously burrowing
Whilst the surface appears a place of serene beauty
As with Swans and Ducks upon a lake
But this germination is not unlike imagination
Where seeds, like ideas grow
Challenging the ‘Old Season’ – which has had its day
Just as the blossom on the trees give way to fruit
And berries of the black, the green and red
Which become a store of energy In the struggle for longer days
As we strive to keep darkness at bay
There will be time enough for darkness In the winter of our lives
Garden Haiku
GARDEN HAIKU SERIES – TU BISHEVAT: ecological awareness and spring tree planting dedication festival
Children sleep and play.
Bird song, wood smoke, candle light
Mingle. Sirens scream.
Solstice. Summer and
Midwinter gardens. Singing.
Sacred senses wake.
Flames lick detritus.
Spirits howl. Walk the fire path
Chanting regrets.
Garden ghost dreamers.
Distance recycles the past.
Smoke curls in the wind.
Fiery moods caress
Labyrinthine memories.
Leaves flare in the fire.
Smoke curls in the wind.
Leaves flare in the fire. Dreaming.
Sacred senses wake.
I Feel Better When…
I feel better when I am drinking a cup of tea,
Warm, comforting, hugging me
I feel better when I am reading a good book,
Escaping, imagining, I am totally hooked
I feel better when I am talking to my Mum,
Though you are no longer here, your words of wisdom come
I feel better when I am walking the dog,
Listening to nature’s monologue
I feel better when I am watching comedy,
Laughing so hard I cry tears joyously
I feel better when listening to my children play,
Laughing, crying and shouting, ‘hey’
I feel better when I’ve had a good sleep,
And not spent all night counting sheep
I feel better when a loved one touches me,
Then offers me a cup of tea.