Blog Archives

Tatiana – an ode

Today ,I wasn’t prepared though my gut knew better than to be not blase but scared.

A fleeting hope that the healers could give you a boost

The hardest decision was to accept that your time was up & I had to cut you loose.

I’m numb, guilty, wished I had you for a few more nights.

Allowing your sorrowful suffocating soul seconds more would add to this punishing plight & dreams of death – faeces, dead babies, deer, filthy flies and discarded driftwood souls drunk on flotsam

Waivered inner stengh; sight to ignite a courageous carcass of hope

Never mind , my Tatiana. You breathe free , unleashed from the God’s who wouldn’t let you rest.

You were too remarkable to ignore.

Your status has soared

A wing span of your choice.

These words don’t do justice

I love you

This is your eulogy

An ode to your life with no apology.

So cold,

so sweet ,

so fair…

Life and death
The mortal twins

The janus of the past , the future
You the triplet was my greatest present.

Sinners are the reason martyers exist ?

Render me unfaithful

Eternal sin stains noir shades on my skin

grief knocks at my door with a leash in his hand

reads me my rights, instructions of the feelings I will parade with a downcast glare remember this moment of shame – remember the touch of the unfamiliar intimacy

Emotions torn from the sacred part Please don’t stare

Turn your eyes away -oh shame sit down I have lost my dignity – the grace to care

sinners are the reason the saints are adorned with absolute conviction in Believers prayers

(a stream of consciousness writing prompt 10 line poem REGRETS Poems_For_Life

Silence

Is life just a formality to prepare us for death?
How many people have died in their God’s name in their moments of weakness and then died in those moments of weakness?
I don’t know where I’m going with this question but what does it say about faith and life and our different notions & preconceptions of death and our loved ones final resting place ?

My thoughts after watching Martin Scorsese film ‘Silence ‘

A film to make those who think think
👌👌👌
Just a thought…

Gris gris

If you know how to love you know how to live

If you know how to live you know how to love

Momentary

hyperbole

state

Meant –

This

ends badly

A stolen sign

whilst awoken waiting on directions for heaven’s gates

Titillating times

Run out of fuel

Exhausted

words condemned ?

Atoned

Alchemical

Skeletal

soul ( emaciated)

Wasted (fabricated)

Walking into

A fat

 Fated

       E Lated 

                     Disorderly

slum bum

Arrested for

Apathy..

No

A

trophy

Padam

Padam

limited vocabulary…

Dispose these written words

To an insincere society.

Gris gris

A hex

Agon.

Gal

I glee.

The mardi gras lives within

Thanks Ray

Charleton

a breathe wren

Sightless strumpet life (insert your own GIF)

Daring

Demanding hymn for those

A genesis

Singing pslams to the prejudice

Justified :those folk who missed the nearest fire exit.

Grandmama who forgot

Death rattle

Reminiscent of an uprising of crickets ready to battle.
Stare at a puffed updiamond heart
Drumming inside an empty cage.
Birds ripped apart.
Gargoyle stares ignored.
Folk bumble about unaware of what’s in store for us all,
eventually.
The breathe of Hades lingers
then makes a dash for scant flesh and bones.
Meat is not this gods instrument
Lust causes the call for more drones.
Sponge, moisten parched parted lips
Raven signals the ire of its whips.
The ones who don’t loose it in bedlam excite
Death,
Invites all loved ones to rally around
Stands by door.
Stands back a while
Admires its own power.
A moment to savour
Every door closed,
Each breath cloys,
Begs for enough fare to cross the distance to embrace Elysium air.
Today everyone shall know how close we are to parting from brown soil.
Lambs,
Hatched chickens,
Babies born in Cumbersome air.
The cycle must complete before we can emerge reborn.
Death is inevitable as necessary as life is to the Cumbaya of springs first show of petal.
When you look at the beginning of this new dawn,
Know that when you stand back in awe
Its because you have felt the chill of winters soul depart.
Shed a tear for the snowman who brought our youth so much joy.
Appreciate death.
Stare it in the face.
The sun chants
counting his rosary beads.
Tomorrow never dies.
Trying to type something while listening and watching my grandmother dying.
Rasp
Gasp
I support the assisted dying law.
This is inhumane!
A selfish farce.
Happy mothers day,
Wherever you go
Wherever you roam
I hope that it is a place as magnificent as earths revellers make it out to be.

Ma petit fripon. Je t’aims toujours

This a poem that I wrote whilst waiting and comforting my mom and my gran before she passed over in March 2018, from vascular Dementia and Alzheimers. I wrote it while waiting for her to let go of Life. It’s a Morbid (and possibly strange) thing to do when someone you love is dying in front of you. This was one way of expressing my powerlessness, over a period 3 days watching someone cling on to this Life).*

A special girl

I know a special girl whose heart is full of sunshine .

She dances her way around the world to deliver her own special punchline

She laughs so distinctly that people cannot help but become infected

It is a sight to behold when this observation is detected She is gracious and kind and is delicately inclined the phrase ‘she is an angel’ are the only words that come to mind .

Her name means beautiful-that of body, mind and soul and to have her touch so many lives confirms her title role.

She is my modern day princess -so noble and full of grace I love her with all my being and she is a person that I cannot replace

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my sweet child. You are the true gift I found it in your innocent eyes and that was the day my world truly began to shift.

Second Life- Mort tell et tea

 

* This Borderline poem was written a week before I attempted to take my life (again).I ended up in Critical Care  in a coma for 5 days & in ICU for a further 6 days. I was discharged from hospital on the 21st of May 2020 *

 

Please, make sense of  reality.

Use a stream of consciousness

words to vent,

rant,

rave,

A discovery in recovery

 Fathom out sense because words are only as good as the interpreter.

20200521_0850322064238938547478683.jpg

 


 Could add literary success to a Gravatar profile  in  an ebook

Add few drafts poured into that fulminate crunched up chaos.

This doesn’t invoke a feeling of literary success.

Trying

Struggling to convey all words .

Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted

Misheard

Another attempt  to convey these words

Perhaps one person will see this array of affray spread its torment defecating the inner spiral case of the

Mind,

It swirls descends these steps in every way.

The moment to call it a day

This draws an outline forever have to have the last say.

Hear me proclaim

This

Is

My

Life.

Don’t want to carry on living this way

Shame lingers

It overstays — the bailiff  texts for rent arrears

Read,

What is laid down?

Listen

I’m not done yet.

 

 Hanging by a thread it’s tethered

Seen many days to identify as weathered

 Hanging by a thread

This is my life purpose!

Final chance to  meet my fate

Waited for this all my life

A  mystery date with a severed soul mate.

 

Taught & tethered & weathered is this rope

To late

 convinced

I’m no tight rope walker.

I’ve become my own word stalker

Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress

 

Covert corner

Wait in this hidden corner.

 

Evidently I’ve learned that survival is innate.

It ain’t easy to digest the days I’m not blessed to eat from a plate.

 keep rising up despite a life times worth of trip-ups.

 

Until I die

One fine day

I’ll face the final exit of my mortality

 

I’ll know the truth

Either way it’s gonna end up with a body

Fatality.

Subconsciously  know why I feel

It’s called humanity

What do I know about that  damp dark corner entertaining souls I’ve yet to meEt?

Going to have to wait for a future promising chance we haven’t dreamt of taking yet.

If I lose all memory

 Forget those words  

soggy, wet, lost to another realm of the bereft

Lest I forget.

I write to recover.

Be happy or die trying.

 

Simultaneously a resilient species & inconveniently inept

 

 

 

A poem from a strange daughter

If  foresight revealed you would  always  remain  my biggest fan

then in retrospect, I’m certain you wished that you had made a better escape plan.

I type these words weary & mothered out.

Wondering how I can still love a child who dismisses me without having to shout.

I do.

Mostly love

Mostly nag & figure motherhood out.

Is it worth it?

Life is fleeting.

these words would sound better if interpreted by a Geisha learning how to interpret the I Ching.

Silver linings

strive to find a purpose.

Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you may make you stronger

It also makes one weary and often a bit teary.

 I carry on the tradition

light  your cake as a reminder

that without you there would be no fire lit in my belly savouring the meaning of meaning.

Life is a celebration, a trial and cursed blessing.

I have no words to convey how much I have sinned.

To quote a wise lady I’ll be happy if I can be a quarter the lady my mother is when…

she draws the curtains on her solo performance of a life lived.

life would have been sung by the haunting blues & myriad cherubs singing ‘Elysium exists’ hymn after hymn.

Happy birthday –  psalm 58 to the creator of  hope & faith

a celebration to your mortality.

Insightful are those who keep a track of the moments lived in the presence

& know how to make all of it count.

Ma petit fripon 

via Ma petit fripon 

Death rattle

Reminiscent of an uprising of crickets ready to battle

Stare at a puffed updiamond heart

Drumming inside an empty cage. Birds ripped apart.

Gargoyle  stares ignored.

Folk bumble about unaware what is in store for us all- eventually.

The breathe of Hades-

Lingers then makes a dash for scant flesh and bones.

Meat is not this gods instrument. Lust causes call for more drones

Sponge, moisten  parched parted  lips

Raven signals the ire of its whips

The ones who don’t loose it in bedlam excite

Death.

Invites all loved ones to rally round

Stands by door. Stands back.Admires its ownpower.

A moment to savour for a while more.

Every door closed,  each breath cloys

Begs for enough fare to cross the distance to embrace elysium air.
Today everyone shall know how close we are to parting from brown soil

Lamb,hatched chickens,babies born in  Cumbersome air.

the cycle must  complete before we can emerge reborn

Death is inevitable  as necessary as life is to the Cumbaya

of springs first show of petal.

When you look at the beginning of this  new dawn

Know that when you stand back in awe

It is because you have felt the chill of winters soul depart

Shed a tear for the snowman who brought  our youth so much joy.

Appreciate death. Stare it in the face

The sun chants

 count in rosary beads

tomorrow never dies.

Trying to type something while listening and watching my  grandmother dying.

Rasp

Gasp

I support the assisted dying law.  This is inhumane.

A selfish farce.
Happy mothers day

Wherever  you go

Wherever  you roam

I hope that it is a place as magnificent as earths revellers make it out to be

Ma petition fripon. J’taime xxxx

* What I wrote waiting and comforting my ma and my gran before she passed over.

seasons lies life’s mystery

This is the moment where I should embrace the wintery-powder snow to come.

Under-wraps.

We all delight to create snow angels.

So too do the most damaged pimped out hoes

The death of everything I know.

 

Yet,

I

don’t

know

if

I’ve

 ever

 known

Even one thing for certain.

Always,

I  thought

I blew according to the way the wind doth blow.

until I  walked right into the eye of the

C.louds

 I.ntelligance

A.ir

shouted them down-

No, I won’t go slow.

 

Voice  ricochets  seeking  a target

breathe exterminated-

The managers above cloud corporation hear my

costly,

cerise

commotion —

derogatory

delirious

temper tantrum.

 

speech

pressurised protests-

Attacks of panic.

I got what I was owed.

Hitch hiked a lift with a passing tornado.

 

Whirlwind dropped me off in a place with no directions to  the Republic of sense-at-ors of common.

I walked along the  the uneven, cobbled path —  another independent equality  free flowing  feminist ,

juggling with digits and exchanged words with third eye chakra chemists

Paper –

trees-

All alternate in form — it ends for the same means.

Or is that me unravelling myself from being stitched up — picking away at the seams?

I didn’t  mean  to lose my way — countryside hikes are  not my  governing zodiac  sign indicating

I’m in my element.

This body contains still waters wrapped in layers of skin.

No  teasing trickle or   babbling brook

nor a wishing well to reassure my hearts confidence within.

 

Summertime- the livings never easy

not when you’re a weed  on self destruct,

especially when the sun shines on  and makes blossoming

a gift without the morning sickness

That sense of queasy.

 

Rudimentary realisation.

 

Desolate

Deception.

Dark sunglasses can’t make me incognito to —

Looking back-

 

I should  of clapped my hands

, in breathless awe when the sunset—

lowered gently against the abstract  backdrop

Tropical orange salmon, pink sprayed skies.

 

Pay my respects —

Let it rest when it his time to slip down and fall.

 

Reap what you sow.

I deal with every blow.

 

Turbulent Winds commands my flight against   common ground

I find myself high up  and all alone

the comedown — finds me face down in muddy bog marsh — eyes arrested by a facetious fog —

Not even a bird to sing me an ode of encouragement to aid me back home.

we come into this world alone and we die alone.

Money, stuff — the acquisition of property

— it all gets left behind when we lift the veil to step into the next body of energy-

stagnation left in a cadaver —

this is our vessel —

Our only claim to earth’s  throne.

Seasoned Cycles of

life,

death,

regeneration,

rebirth.

 

Change –

it’s contradictory to our nature.

Wearily wallow over wilted, dead plants — tomorrow I’ll throw them away.

 procrastination

Embrace the opaque

the possibility of a welcome winter

undisturbed silence-solace only to be found in untouched fallen snowflakes.

Trigger the cycle to fall — this is autumn.

Death and decay I feel implacably broken.

This idea of pressing flowers, dried

Into bookmarks is a nostalgic notion.

Shouldn’t I let it go and embrace the tremors, the blast of the callous   cousins cold and colder

A gift of this perilous season?

anti climatized.

 

I live on an island full of tall trees in treason for being out of season.

Let these words be enough.

Be my reason.

On my knees begging for hands to let go of me-especially those who touch are rough.

 

Grant me sight to see-

permit  my body and soul to feel the spectrum

exhilarating and painful emotion.

Facing  forward to a future

 smelling the unsullied  scent of rebirth

A possible sight spotting of   Tigger

ready to  uncoil  and bounce into spring

 For the awakening of the blessed bees, Lilly white lambs and a hereuse holiday closer to the ocean.