Blog Archives

I am

I am the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve.
Wonders if my life  purpose is to laugh and tease.

I hear the hair raising scream
I see the  barbed wire , a body electrocuted   two feet away from my mortal skin

I want to avert my eyes – It never happened , pretend all is okay.
I am the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve.

I pretend to be helpless
I feel I repeatedly sin. Stuck in a mind that can’t  learn from mistakes.
I worry the world is passing me by, time doesnt care if I can’t leave the past to drift off out of peripheral vision.

I cry because I am to blame for feeling insignificant.
I am the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve.

I understand my insight is a double edged sword
I say I have courage yet honestly I’m  not sure how much.
I dream to travel away from the houses visited each slumber night. Subconscious give me solitide.
I try to be funny, charismatic and loyal.
I hope the people I hold dear to me won’t  leave me
Though I  suspect they will.
I am the girl who wears her heart on her sleeve.

I am daisy

Daughter of Rose

Who needs love, loyalty, laughter

Who loves music, silence, decadence

Who sees lonely people, people better off, empty glasses once full of hope

Who hates curves on herself, being misunderstood, bad odour

Who fears abandonment, rejection, gossips too

Who dreams of career growth, success, beauty to blossom from within

Who has found forgotten poems, memory gaps, words unable to recognise as her own

Resident of no fixed abode

Willows

Garden Fascinator

Write to be something I’m not feeling.

Not nothing

A sense I’ve lost details planning how to plot.

Stand mid-sentence

tongue ties all thoughts

Need a referendum to figure what to prioritize first.

These are my words

They grow like weeds amongst the Garden fascinators.

Smoke break

Every

Every time I write down words,

Ending in a half sentence with no meaning like this one.

Eventually the reader will realise I’m taking the Mick.

Every single word on this page

Each one is absolutely pointless.

Egg me on, I dare you

Especially as I’m clearly hard to ignore because you’re still reading this.

Elements are as tangible as these words transpired with indefinable clarity.

Ergo I must now go

Evening awaits , I anticipate clear skies

Early morning we’ll need to say our goodbyes

Evidently we all have lives to live. Thanks for reading this load of sh**.

Mumms the word

I’ve tried to epitomise my mom-in a few words. No easy feat to do.

Mom

a la mode
Bang on-trend

a Panache for transforming a lifeless neck scarf into an haute couture piece -an eye for detail that makes you a formidable fashionista Godsend.

Finesse in all you do: from baking bananas loaf’s salad Nicoise or cauliflower cheese.

Woe, the day a chef attempts a bake-off with you for he’d lose his hat, all his stars and wail, mamma Mia what a mistake ah I make a. I must have caught some disease.

Self-sufficient -you can lift your bed on your own, fix your dryer, paint your home, fix the boiler. Your tenaciousness growls especially when your body dares groan: please take it slow!

Talented at reinvigorating my moods with that eccentric, warped wit.

An example: the time you thought it would be fun to pay for me to get my entire face threaded. You laughed at my pain.
I love our giggles-the side-splitting snorts are hilarious to watch and hear. It takes me back to our flare nostrils days. Who could make each other laugh first?

Your loyalty towards me astounds me, your unwavering love for me confounds me, your forgiveness impels me,

Life gives us many hard knocks -your heart nor face betrays your past pain. It reveals your altruistic complexion. A reflection of your heart. When you give you to do so freely without seeking to gain.

I’m in awe of your spiritual journey. You think I’m not remotely interested in your opinions & sentiment. Your faith is truly remarkable- a tangible contrast to your ethereal temperament.

Remember how you tell me to straighten my crown, the world is in the palm of my hand?

Remember numbers do not define a person’s character, beauty or ability to achieve greatness. I see the talent and potential within you. You should/could become an interior decorator. No age or number can dictate your dreams, hopes, aspirations and goals. The skies the limit.

Happy Birthday, mom.
I love you xxxx

Melody of those in the Same boat

My cow bells are a little bit off par
My serenade seemingly won’t separate the stars

They’re dying
Earth bound

Trees won’t surround my natural state of being.

Everything I feel
My inner sight.

I’m meant to be singing a stream of consciousness of my inner plight
To gloat I’m on another planet.

If only I knew how to consistently cope

In this moment
In this dimension
I might have a bit of hope.

A full fleshed 3 D character would awash with the flostam
Starting from the Knee deep creeping up to reveal my fragile throat.

I’m you, man.
You are me, men and women.

We’re all floating in the same boat.

Different directions
In water we still get soaked.

A place we try to fathom
No .
stake as our own.

If not to deem ours authentically
Then atleast to titillate to titivate
With a decorum of sensuality

Melody of the same boat

My cow bells are a little bit off par

My serenade seemingly won’t separate the stars

They’re dying

Earth bound

Trees won’t surround my natural state of being.

Everything I feel

My inner sight.

I’m meant to be singing a stream of consciousness of my inner plight

To gloat I’m on another planet.

If only I knew how to consistently cope

In this moment

In this dimension
I might have a bit of hope.

A full fleshed 3 D character would awash with the flostam

Starting from the Knee deep creeping up to reveal my fragile throat.

I’m you, man.

You are me, men and women.

We’re all floating in the same boat

Different directions

In water we still get soaked.

A place we try to fathom

No .

stake as our own

If not to deem ours authentically

Then atleast to titillate to titivate

With a decorum of sensuality

Not a suicide kid

Time stands still

Waiting for my child

To pick her up from her school.

Locked out

I’m no fool

Schools not meant to be cool.

Just another institution

Similar to a prison.

My constitution was made to rebel

For a cause

Less

Waiting around on top.

Never thought I’d glimpse a shadow of my former self -over the hill.

Curse these minutes.

Frozen into a state of blissful ignorance.

Wrapped up into a stationary kit.

Sigh

Sudden bowel movements

I feel ill.

Bad humour lost to a desolate sky.

Simmer into another ghetto outfit

Sparse Sunshine shimmer flecks

Until my skin unravels into motion.

For this moment

I’m not a suicide kid

Instead, I’m knocked out

By a dead dong ringer

Them there eyes

Catch sight of her eyes.

How they glimmer!

* inspired by the school run & national poetry day  & Life

 I’m genuinely happy to be alive. Not because life is perfect today but because I’m happy, humble and honest.

  • Write to recover

  • Create to recover

  • Communicate to recover

  • Connect to recover

  • Collaborate to recover.

If blue was a hue

If shades came in pigmented blues

Would the world recognize the significance of colour as opposed to hues?

Would living in colour stop it’s either this or that?

Would grey get a chance to convince us to investigate?

Would crashing into a slick  navy

crude and  lost at  sea,

Inspire old fashioned candy knots to carry us all back to safety?

If black wasn’t so noir

Would fashion dictate less to those in the savoir?

Would flags become less patronizing?

and white flags more entrancing?

A hue is a hue by its very name

A colour can decide to change and play  – a child-free game.

Rich reds

Glorious Greens

 Would we see who profits from wealth – would we want to change this scene?

Would hearts come together under a purple strewn night? 

Lovers take pleasure dancing in the rain, see each other in a different light?

Emotional attachments are often aesthetically pleasing

Only to the one who is eyeballing the muddied one’s high pitched squealing.

Clarity of light sought in souls and not in places of questionable heaven.

Admirers eyes to skies

Solid legs still rooted in the ground

Unifying all genders of brethren.

How wealthy we are  to have  a landscape of colour

Don’t ignore its beauty in the search for another.

Love less -a pense poem

I’ve never done this type of poem. The format is straight forward.

Title 2 syllables

Description 4 syllables

Action is 6 syllables

location 8 syllables

ending 6 syllables.

And the final rule is that it can’t rhyme

LOVE LESS


it won’t hurt much
scrub off the scent of his odour
bleach the bath with your morning shit
love costs more heartache

Passion less magical

Cats demand cuddles
A clean page soaked in wasted words written in yellow ink
The music falls on deaf ears
Unread unopened books will let me down – or will it be my imagination?
I glance around the room of despair comfortably numb for three hours until a child smiles for her mom’s unfounded fears.

Untitled

so inept by a blackened imagination
colours wither away, winter outsmiles
stilled yet not frozen. those exhiled frowns en route stragglers exhiled to Siberia.


I’m desperately desolate that these nightmares took the by pass . Limits to hope of revelling in reality once more spring
bursts into a yawn , light stretches worn out clinging onto last winter’s stained sweater.


A scream demands tending to kettle whistling for it’s masters attention
it begs summer to part with mercy & grace
so inept by a blackened imagination.