A Mothers Prayer

We walk together wreathed in tears

Clinging together as we pass through this vale of fears.

Gentle sweet one cling to me

I shall find us a way to be free.

 

Sleep now gentle baby sleep I swear your gentle soul I will keep.

Through all the troubles we shall meet I will keep

You safe from harm and swaddle you warm inside your sheet.

It is lucky I can’t see

What is in store for you and me.

 

For maybe we will escape unscathed

On our journey from the cradle to the grave.

I will do all I can to guide you through this maze

Of hard times and long sad days.

 

I will give my all for you

I am the only one who will say that, and mean it true.

So for now for all I can do is feed, and hold and love you.

 

As you grow I’ll do all I can to help you grow into a good man.

So my baby here in my arms I pray that I can keep you safe from harm.

All the bad things in this life,

The gun, the drug and the knife.

 

I can only show you the right way,

I shall just have to trust you, as in all you will have the last say.

We walk together wreathed in tears

Clinging together as we pass through this vale of fears.

Gentle sweet one cling to me I shall find us a way to be free.

All Souls Eve

All Hallows Eve

Chains are rattling , bones are creaking, blood is flowing and spirits are  battling.

Pumpkin lanterns all a glow, bats and owls in flight.Ghouls and witches readying out to go.

Evil spectres and vampires take to flight , zombies stir and stretch all are preparing for a wicked night.

Moans and groans all around echoing making spooky sound. It is no use to pray this day, all unholy things come out to play.

Will we all survive the night , with mind and soul intact  or will we loose them and our hair turn grey all our sense taken flight.

Is that Vlad I see planning bad things wickedly he is not to be ignored he may look cute  but he can dissect humans and animals alike when he gets bored! At his side his best friend, Death leading his horse, stalks on the look out for souls . He loves these walks!

Vlad the dispispicable

Little children unaware of the dangers  lurking there. Cruse through the streets knocking on doors for tick or treat collecting untested Halloween fare. There may be real evil spirits behind those doors hiding . What out for the Grim Reaper out on his horse a riding.

So my dear friends I bid you safe , at this time of loss of faith. Hold on fast to your hearts and souls be careful demons don’t remove your blood into bowls. Tortures horrendous can await behind each door or garden gate. You do not want your guts removed and served to you upon a plate!

So there is just one thing left to do. Climb on my broomstick and bid you well and safe from all the slavering hounds of hell!

woooooooooohoooooooooo

Life to Match

Life is like a match. It bursts into being, full of promise and light. It grows then. At it fullest and brightest it slows, dies returning us to the dark..

Birth is painful birth is bloody it is spectacular, it is after conception, the start for everybody.Pushed from the darkness into the light screaming and kicking you get handled by gloved hands under bright light.

Then like the flame as it takes hold the young brain sucks in knowledge  like the match needs oxygen as much as it can hold.

You see the blue and yellow of the flame grow in strength as it follows its aim. As we grow, we learn and we store the lesson that will form us more and more. Reaching out to light the world  doing all you can to live the life you know is right.

Like the match we reach our zenith gold and blue with smoky edges but only for a seconds does that last. How soon our very best is past. Try as we may to keep the light we like the match are loosing it fast. So tailing down to nought but heat like the match we are thrown on the scrap heap. At best we end up all alone or, I shudder at the choice , in an old people’s home.

dicarded and forgotten

Sad as I am to be alone, don’t throw me in an old peoples home. I once had so much to share . I am still in here please have a care.

You one day will be just as me so don’t turn away, just harken to me.

Love is

Love is big, love is  bold, love is new and love is old.Love is huge and boundless, love is filling the air ranging around Love is groundless.

Love is the quickening of the heart,love is the tingling feeling that rushes through you, almost tearing you apart!

Love is need, love is demanding and all sacrificing it sucks you in at great speed. Love is not baring to be apart love is saying goodnight and it is breaking your heart.

Love is giving up your all, love is  running to your lovers side at the merest call.Love is being there for one, love is forsaking all others sometime even families, mothers?

Love is sea shores, love is skies of blue. Love is being happy when it is just you two.Love is breath, love is dancing ,love is erotic Love is fun, love is exotic .

Love is all those things but then, love is mean and  love is unkind, love pushed away your friends and then left you alone. Love left you  behind. Love is cruel love is a shout, love asks you, who is he with when he is out?

Love is jealous , love is obsessed , love is pushy and love is asking for whom is he so smartly dressed. Love is huge, love is all consuming. Love is hacking at your feelings love is checking what you are concealing. Love is becoming not a good feeling.

Love is a trickster, love is no longer cool, love is taking your heart and treating you like a fool.

Playing It Safe

Playing it safe

Playing it safe is lonely, playing it safe never learns. Playing it safe never feels love, playing it safe never burns.

Playing it safe never reaches out to another , playing it safe never cares too much. Playing it safe never tingles to feel of another’s touch.

Playing it safe misses  out, playing it safe never voices an doubt. Playing it safe is dumb , when things are wrong playing it safe is not allowed to shout, playing it safe  just takes what’s to come.

Playing it safe has no allies or friends, playing it safe has no strong feeling and goes with the wind which ever way it bends. Playing it safe has no commitments , playing it safe hides away. Playing it safe always weighs up who it is with before having something to say.

Playing it safe needs to open it eyes, playing it safe needs to listen.Playing it safes’ life is so empty, playing safe has no options, playing it safe has no mission.

Playing it safe might have a wedding , but playing it safe has no life. Playing it safe has no babies playing it safe is afraid of strife. Playing it safe does what it must but what has playing it safe have to show at the end of a long uneventful life.

Playing it safe is lonely, playing it safe never learns. Playing it safe never feels love, playing it safe never burns.

   

The Weeping Angel

I plant the seeds

I saw the Angel at the grave she was weeping tears. The weight of all the grief she had seen, years of pain and fears.

It hurt me to see the angel so, such a burden she had to carry. The hate  and betrayal all around I wondered why she should tarry.

Her tears were real I touched them so I know. I wondered what on earth had made this lacrimo flow.

She told me all that she had seen and places she had been. The trenches of Ypres, concentration camps and bloody fields at Waterloo  she had held dying men and abused women and children too.

The world is not improving even after all that she had tried .To guide and help and educate us toward peace and love . It was always pushed aside.

She asked me for my help, I was indeed surprised. I am a mere mortal who has sinned and lost all pride. Reaching out a hand to me , she touched my chilled skin. To my great surprise she was warm that set me wondering.

How could marble feel like flesh, my heart began to pound I looked into her blue eyes another wonder there I found. As well as tears I saw great great knowledge gained from living life too long, not the type we learn from  college.

She offered me a bag of seeds the like I had never seen she begged plant them where I stood among this grass so green. I asked her what the seeds were that she asked I plant upon this slope. She looked at me with pleading eyes and whispered they are the seeds of hope!

I was holding in my hands the hope for all the world, it was a terrifying thought so around them, to keep them safe, my fingers gently curled .

Plant them please, plant them now and make to me one vow. Tend these most important seeds, watch them as they grow. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders as those tiny seeds I then did sow.

The angel sighed so gently I nearly didn’t hear. She smiled at me and touched my face and told me not to fear. She looked so very tired,  she looked so very old. Then suddenly with no fuss she once again was made of marble cold.

Wednesday Poetry Challenge #3 October 26, 2011

Wednesday Poetry Challenge #3

Eliza and her brothers

October 26, 2011
PART 1 WILD SWANS WITH 127 WORDS CHANGED  (FROM MY ORIGINAL POEM)

Each winter our little swallows sing before

flying off to the land of a fortunately blessed king.

Ten plus one sons all handsome and true

He also had a beautiful daughter too.

The sons went to study every day with pride

A bright sparkling star on their chest and a sword by their sides.

The Princes proudly wore their fine baring for everyone to see, they worked with pencils of pure gold

They were truly erudite, always completely learned by rote all that they read and were told.

The Princes, little Eliza fair happily sat all and every day on a clear glass chair.

She owned for the ransom of half a kingdom such a  picture book to rest her eyes on.

Happy and gay these lucky children their lives filled with love and such joys they had.

Good times don’t last forever; their father took for his queen a woman who was bad.

The new queen wanted their father for herself alone. So the children were no longer welcome in their home.

The children were enjoying games as the wedding guests arrived

Enviously watching the meal, which they had cruelly been denied.

They were unaccustomed to feeling hungry or pushed aside

Their father didn’t notice, being too wrapped up in his bride.

Shocked the children found it difficult to believe a cup of sand was all they’d received.

They were ordered, make the best of things and pretend it was delicious food and just to make believe.

The queen who was black hearted, did not want Eliza fair, so her fine life she took from her.

Away into the country, far from the palace, she gave Eliza to a peasant and his wife.

Helped by her evil tongue she whispered in the king’s ear darkening the princes names.

The king began to ignore his sons, forget them, he no longer joined them in their games.

The queen being impatient with the princes soon insisted they go away

And make their own lives in the world. She did not want them there one more day.

“Go, grow feathers and take flight and you shall all be mute.”

Things did not go as she planned because as they went they turned to her in salute

They were handsome, strong white swans they circled the castle and then

Disappeared away off to the woods.

PART 2 WILD SWANS (PART OF) POEM IN 187 WORDS.

the wicked Queen

Long ago where the swallows winter

There lived a happy and contended king who had all he could ask for.

Eleven sons and a daughter but he lacked a queen.

His sons were all hansom and they work hard a school

With golden pens and books to read they were never fools.

Eliza had a throne made of sparkling glass she

She owned a book the price too much to ask.

One day the king  met a beautiful woman he wanted in his life.

She did not like his children but the king was wealthy so she desired to be his wife.

The children had been happy and worked hard at school.

But the wicked woman starved them and was very cruel.

Not even did she let them feed at the wedding feast.

She set their father against them with black lies she whispered in his ears

She banished Eliza to a peasant farm, the black queen did many wrongs.

And put a curse on her brothers and turned them into mute swans.

They flew away from the castle and off to the woods to find Elisa.

PART 3 WILD SWANS (PART OF) POEM WITH 62 WORDS CHANGED.

the once happy home

Long past where the birds migrate

There was a loving and kind ruler, he owned everything you could ask for.

Eleven boys and a girl yet he missed his wife.

His sons were very hansom and they studied long at school

With golden pens and books to read they were not fools.

Eliza had a seat cast in clear glass

She had a tomb the cost too much to ask.

One morning the king chanced upon a beautiful woman he wanted in his life.

She did not want his children but the king was really rich and she wanted to be his wife.

The family had been idyllic and worked hard at school.

Yet the wicked woman hated them and was really cruel.

Not even did she allowed them to enjoy the wedding feast.

She set their father against them with lies she whispered in his ears

She hid Eliza on a peasant farm, the woman did many wrongs.

She laid a curse on the brothers and magiced them into white swans.

They took off from the ramparts and away to search for their sister Eliza

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is no time limit here, these challenges are open until site is forcibly closed down.

Eliza and her brothers

YOUR TURN NOW!

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Future and past , will it happen again?

The next day my husband having to work , and on holiday!! I found myself wondering up the hill path from the farmhouse  to the castle walls and old town. If I was lucky not too many tourists would be around and I could find myself a quiet spot and spend some “me time” in the shade. The sun touching my face was making me hot so I tied my hair back. I could see for miles from the vantage point I found not unlike the spot I had discovered the day before. The sun was climbing high in the azure blue sky and I was happily drawing in my book.

Tieing back my hair

Again I felt myself slipping into that warm soft , edges fading place that I had been before. The old town, the people even the vista and the sun seemed to be reseeding into the distance and as if through a mist I could see, Carmel again. It looked as if she was seeing her husband,the  knight off on some conquest.

Carmel biding farewell to her Knight

I watched as she stood on some stairs to be at his eye level. As before they looked so in love, so close an invisible bond tying them together.

She still looked a lot like me, she still wore our shared necklace, I still knew that we were closely related. The years and countries between us were as nothing, we were close!

After a few minutes her husband ridden of to whatever quest lay before him, she dried her eyes and then saw me as I stood just opposite her. Smiling she looked towards me and beckoned me towards her.

I descended the steps and crossed the cobbled courtyard to join her. Have you had your baby yet I asked her, yes she smiled at me he was three now. OH! I said I am only a few months on since we last met. She just smiled at my reply I could see she did not understand truly what our meeting meant, well neither did I……………

The three stories this is connected to can be found at  The first at

https://willowdot21.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/571/

and the second part at

https://willowdot21.wordpress.com/2011/09/15/581/

and the third at

https://willowdot21.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/642/

Perfume in verse.

I read a book once called Perfume  it was written by Patrick Süskind. I loved it so. I have taken the liberty to have abridged and written it in verse. I hope you will enjoy. I have done this from memory and have left many of the murders and deaths out . I do not profess that this is my work, just a story reworked and written in verse. The verse is all mine

###############################

Born as an inconvenience to his hard working  mother, a fish gutter in the stinking market of 1800’s Paris he was thrown under the stall to die like many another.

He, unlike the others let out a cry he had smelt the world and refused to die! They found him there covered in blood his own and fish. They dragged his young mother off and hanged her without even a last wish.

Taken in  by a gin smelling woman for a few shillings a week. He was thrown in with all the other poor little souls not expect to live as he was so  weak.

Unlike the others  Jean-Baptiste Grenouille had no smell. they could not warm to him, the other children new he was different they could tell. The wet nurses feared him, his peers shunned him because him they could not smell. He did not care all he wanted was to inhale  the world and so he drank in the sweat, stale milk and urine he cared not for them, he was outcast , he could tell.

As he grew the trees, grass and flowers were his friends so great was his sense of smell his joy was the stink of Paris. The filth , the sweat , the foul, the living hell. As soon as she could the evil child keeper sold him on as she could not bear him near. He was a strange child the only emotion he evoked was fear.

Labouring in the abattoir at the docks, he love the work, he could drink in the fear of the cattle the death, he slept under the counter and was never one to shirk. As he grew he was taken on the rounds he loved the smells about him he was oblivious to sight and sounds.

He was bought by the old Tanner who worked him hard the other lads disliked him but he never cared . He learned quickly to dye the leather, soon he was tasked  , as he did not reek like the others, to deliver.

Out delivering the suede’s and leathers  one day. He nose found an amazing scent, a young girl passed his way. He knew at once he had to capture here essence and then for ever he could carry it. As she passed him he drank her in and leaned forward to sniff her pale velvet  skin.

From that day on he became of one purpose to make that scent and carry it with him to please his nose. He found employment with a perfumer, he had visited the shop for a while and worshipped from afar. He had stood outside  the door and each time it opened he discovered  new smells more and more.

He craved knowledge in this art and begged for a job, he’d work so hard ,when could he start. The  perfumer was loosing his skill  his  business was failing and he was ill.The boy was keen and ready to learn. Yet there was something about him he could not discern.

Jean-Baptiste  was quick to learn his nose was second to none. He made fabulous scents that were the currant rage and even better ones of his own design not even the old man could match for all his age. He taught the boy all he knew and soon his business was improving and with the rest, his health was too.

Then came the day that changed Jean-Baptiste’s life again, he found the scent of a young girl, it was like a refrain. He watch her as she left the square and found her in an alley combing her hair. She smiled at him on his approach and moved to one side. As he neared her he reach out his hand and felt her damp skin, tiny jewels of sweat, that fascinated him.  He breathed in her scent and then she started to shake and to move,his hand, still did her make. As her voice rose he silenced her, he held her throat until she breathed no more air. He then sniffed every inch of her body and her hair.

He new the scent he need to make  and sorted through the essences in the workshop in vain so he it could recreate. He use some of her sweat and a lock of her hair that he had taken when he murdered  her. His misery was abject and he then spent his time searching for the scent he craved, while the Gendarmerie searched for who had committed his crime.

As time went by he, like an animal stalked the streets. Upsetting both ladies and prostitutes he would meet. Finally he caught the scent as through a leafy suburb he went . He found  some stones to stand upon and then his nose drank in the scent as a lovely sight his eyes hit upon. A pure young maiden in her room sewing with her maid it was enough to make him swoon.

Gentle maiden

When he awoke it was dark but the scent was strong and it found it’s mark. The light from her window fell and every inch of her he could smell. His mind was set he wanted her essence to make the scent to announce his presence.

From afar he watched her movements he did not need to see her he could follow the trail of scent that escaped her. In his endeavours to perfect his scent he unfortunately killed a few young maids on his project he was hell bent.

One unlucky prostitute came his way and went with him without delay, he covered her with oil and creams at first she did delight  but when he wrapped her in muslins she soon took fright. Sadly, to stop her screams he smothered her.He took his muslins smeared with creams and prayed her scent was captured. He hid her in a shallow grave, this would undo him. This was the mistake he made .

The scent still eluded him he craved it day and night they only rest he received was when, the merchants daughter’s scent reached him and his soul took flight. Soon Paris was talking of the murders, young women of both stations cut down in full flight it was the talk of the nation.

The father of the young girl feared for her life he insisted they were to leave Paris with out ado and under cover of night. The night before they went Jean- Baptiste unaware of their planned escape stood in her room sniffing her body and her hair.

When he learned of their retreat he wailed inside pain filled his body he was consumed with heat. He told the old perfumer he was to leave and that made the old man grieve. The perfumer  made the young man write down all his recipes for the famous scents the old man did not want to loose his crown. So with his dues all paid Jean- Baptiste left Paris following her scent his way he made.

He spent some time in the wild , he lived in a cave to relearn the scent of nature, was what he craved. Finally he tracked the merchant father and his treasured daughter down. To an island isolated and quiet .

To make a long tale short our perfumer took his young girl and did consume her. He boiled her essence down and his perfect scent he found. He did not see his sin to find the scent perfect, was what was driving him.

The merchant full of grief and vengeance,  avowed  he would find who his darling daughter took. He would drag the culprit through the streets and courts and bring them to book. Again to shorten this tale the prostitute was found in her shallow grave with evidence that could be at Jean-Baptist’s feet laid.

At length he was found he was hunted and he had gone to ground.  The gendarmes  made his arrest he manage to secrete his perfume in his vest. On the day of his trial priests, and lords and ladies and commoners into the court did file to hear each and every juicy,  sexy  detail of what had happen no matter how vile.

They found him guilty and they were to remove his head the merchant wanted to see him dead. The day dawned bright for his execution. Attended by the Holy, the good and the poor all baying for him no absolution. They dragged him out into the sun he saw the huge crowed out for their ghoulish fun.

they came to witness

Just as he was about to be dispensed he broke the vial in his vest and let forth his scent. Within seconds the crowed was hushed they called for Jean- Baptised  release no one who’s scent was so beautiful could be such a beast.

The executioner wept tears and he had become so hardened over the years. The priest and lords called for the prisoner to be let go , only the grief stricken merchant begged NO NO! but even he let Jean- Baptiste  go.

As he left his scent spread around and all the folk fell to the ground , teacher, farmer bishop , lord, woman man all began, an orgy of sex spread around . The perfume was more than they could stand and they all fell on one another in Ecstasy. Such inventive and wide spread sex you would  never again see.

Jean- Baptiste left them all writhing and moaning  man with woman, man with man all together no one saw him leave as was his plan. He made his way to Paris.

As he approached the city walls the smell of the city his nostrils appalled. He made his way to his birth place, the market. The beggars of the city  saw him and gathered round . Slowly he use the last drops of his perfume. The crowd began to desire him so they ripped his clothes and then his flesh so orgasmic where they  his bones were stripped until in the dawns light all that was left were rags and bones and a forgotten night.

Of  Jean-Baptiste Grenouille  nothing was left save a faint but fabulous scent.

Future and past , will it happen again?

San Gimignano

sun or a trick of the light?

Sitting quietly on the ramparts of the castle fingering the necklace around  my neck. My lovely family heirloom gold and green so glad I put it on this morning before we took this trek.

We had taken this trip to Italy, my husbands gift to me,  a thank you the little life that is growing inside of me.

Now do you remember the tale I told before of how I met my namesake  from hundreds of years before.

Yes it was back in England on my family’s estate, don’t get the wrong impression we have nothing but debt upon our plate. I had been spending too much time on the internet working on my family tree,it had started as a bet. Something strange had happened on a picnic with some friends. I had somehow slipped through time and met my ancestor who even shared my name we both recognized each other as we both looked just the same.

Carmel had seen my necklace she had wanted it at once, I had of course let her see it. The light in her eyes as she looked at the green stone set in gold showed me how much she loved my necklace. I let her examine it and she seemed to think it had been made at a place near by, which at the time had made me smile.

At the end of our time together as I stepped back almost into my time I saw her husband , a knight true and proud. He had bought her a the present of a necklace, the image of mine. He had bought her the present because she was expecting a baby.

It was all so strange because I too that same day had discovered I was pregnant. Here I was sitting the Tuscan sun day dreaming thinking back to that day. I just felt I was about to slip through time again I had that luscious warm feeling of time sun and being, melding. Then just as I was about to slip through time I could just see some figures coming towards me.

When “Come on dreamy head I am taking you to lunch! ” Oh! well I thought what ever that was it will have to wait.

The two stories this is connected to can be found at  The first at

https://willowdot21.wordpress.com/2011/09/14/571/

and the second part at

https://willowdot21.wordpress.com/2011/09/15/581/

what is to come?

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