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

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.

Being Me

I step outside my front door where I put on my invisible masks.
A daughter, sister, wife and mother; friend, colleague and a neighbour
A mask I wear for each one.
My masks overlap and shift as the day wears on
From person to person, moment to moment.
I am lost and wonder, who is me?
I step inside my front door; some of the masks melt away,
Self-imposed labels dictated by society when all I want is to be me.
I step into my bathroom as day becomes night,
I wash away my make-up; my one visible mask
And finally I feel better for now I am me.

I feel better when I am in touch

I feel better when I am in touch

I look up and see you, blackbird.
The song you sing is lost to me.
I cannot hear you.
I don’t know why.
I walk on, acquainted with silence.

What has happened to me?
Why are my senses failing me?

I look up and see you, again.
I see you singing, but it’s lost on me.
I still cannot hear you.
I don’t know why.
I walk on, deafened by silence.

When did this happen to me?
How are my senses failing me?

I look up and see you, blackbird.
A song once heard touches me.
I sense your calling.
I want to understand.
I walk on, saddened by silence

Something is happening to me
Are my senses failing me?

I look up and see you, friend.
This time I know the song you sing.
I can hear you
I start to understand
I don’t walk on, overjoyed with sound.

I see you.
I hear you.
I know you.
I have found myself once more.

A Sense of Purpose

posted in: Poems 2014 | 0

Taking my life,

lots of reasons,

all laid out on paper,

bullet pointed,

then without despair,

wondering what’s next,

I execute my plan

and my life.


Failed, still alive,

a mental health ward.

Then five months later

meds and referrals in hand

I return to my flat,

my bullet point existence.

I try to think of a future,

a ‘still alive’ purpose.


It’s taken a year.

Those meds and referrals,

a cpn, a new flat,

A disabled way of living.

Now calmly thinking forward,

trying not to panic

I fill out a form to volunteer,

a sense of purpose, maybe.


posted in: Poems 2014 | 0

Five months later,

leaving the ward,

staring up at the sun,

and wondering,

‘will my new life

be like my old’.


A year later…

No more suiciding.

A new flat.

Old friends.

New friends.



I look forward

and I look back.

I think and I over-think.

All I can truly say

is that I’m not better,

but I am recovering.