Christmas Cheer

Christmas shopping

Christmas shopping

See the reflection in the Christmas ball does it tell the truth does it open up and show us all? The presents around the tree are they really exactly what you see?

Is everyone as happy as they appear, are we all relaxed and full of good cheer. Did the food all get to the table without a hitch did everyone get on all day with out thinking someone is a bitch.

Are grannie’s jumpers really brill? Did your sister’s mince pies make you ill. Do you really need another drink , hey , no don’t just chuck those glasses in the sink!

If you are not happy, don’t tell me today  because Christmas is supposed to be special and so all has to swept up tidy and hidden away.

The drunk can still beat his wife and uncle nobby  can rob a young child of their peaceful life. Nothing changes nothing ends, peace and quiet does not descend. The poor are still poor and hungry the irritable are still  brutally  angry sadly all the bad things do not go away just because it’s Christmas Day.


She hadn’t always dressed like this , she had once been an innocent waiting for her first kiss. She never dreamt she’d look like this and  dress to give some old man a moments bliss.

She was, now, rich with dresses fine and shoes all designer made. Channel perfume, dressed to kill. Making a good  living by opening her legs and getting laid .

Was she happy, was she sad, hard to tell when she weighed up all she had. Money , clothes and luxuries she had by the plenty  but as she looked around it all seemed so empty.

Rubbing her neck and stretching her back she remembers her first time and feels a lack of love and someone to hold. She sighs as she thinks of the family she had wanted before she was too old.

Her back was aching and her shoes where too high there was a knock at the door and she wanted to cry. Slowly she stood and walked across the floor and took a deep breath as she opened the door. There a man stood looking sweaty and shy  she fought back the  nausea, winked at him and cutely said “Hi!

She’d love a new dress OH! something in a vibrant blue or even in red just to prove she was alive now and not dead! Shopping and housework and the children’s homework filled her head.

This room is so dowdy, this house is too small nobody notices that she holds it together, in fact that she does it all. She wants some high life, no she just  wants some sex she tired and fed up with hurried uninterested five minutes she gets.

She tries to keep her figure and buys pretty things but she may as well wear a winncyette nightdress for all the lust and passion her sex life brings! He is always too tired her body to caress and seems more interested in the noisy kids and their mess.

She wants him to take her, she has  fantasies in her head she wants to be screaming with ecstasy on their bed. Or the bath or kitchen she does not care where! If only he would bloody notice she is still there! The door bell rings and breaks her chain of thought she wanders will tonight be different she goes to the door her insides all taught.

He is standing there he has forgotten his key he gives her a peck on the cheek , slip his arm round her waist and whispers “I’m starving  what’s for tea ?”……………… Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!

Slipping Away

slipping away

It was true everyone said she was slipping away, drawn and thin and her eyes were always so red. Slipping away, disappearing a little more each day. The talk of her friends and family she is slipping away.Why can’t  she see .

Wasting away, the spirit all gone she is so painfully thin what on earth is going on.  Pushing us all away , friends, family and workmates more and more she retreats every day.

Eating when no one is there, huge amounts of rubbish food, chocolate, pizza or ice cream she does not care. It does not matter to her it is true. It momentarily lifts  her… then she will sick it all up, she knows just what to do.

Loathing, loathing she hates herself she will never be good enough she knows that, she has been told so, for years all her emotions ironed out and slapped flat! Bullied at school, abused at home no wonder she hides her past. She is sure if  her friends knew they would all leave and she’d be all alone, and fast!

Her teeth are all rotting,  her body wafer thin her eyes are so black you could drown if, too closely you looked in. Slipping away, disappearing a little more each day. She laid on her bed and spat at her demons as she gently slipped away.

Poetry Challenge #7 27/11/2012

In the darkness they saw a vision

We saw a vision  by Liam Mac Uistin

In the darkness of despair we saw a vision, We lit the light of hope, And it was not extinguished. In the desert of discouragement we saw a vision, We planted the tree of valour, and it blossomed.
In the winter of bondage we saw a vision, We melted the snow of lethargy, And the river of resurrection flowed from it.
We sent our vision swim like a swan on the river, The vision became a reality.  Winter became summer. Bondage became freedom, And this we left to you as your inheritance.
Oh generation of freedom remember us, The generation of the vision.

In Irish, the poem reads as follows:

An Aisling.

I ndorchacht an éadóchais rinneadh aisling dúinn. Lasamar solas an dóchais. Agus níor múchadh é.
I bhfásach an lagmhisnigh rinneadh aisling dúinn. Chuireamar crann na crógachta. Agus tháing bláth air.
I ngeimhreadh na daoirse rinneadh aisling dúinn. Mheileamar sneachta táimhe. Agus rith abhainn na hathbheochana as.
Chuireamar ár n-aisling ag snámh mar eala ar an abhainn. Rinneadh fírinne den aisling. Rinneadh samhradh den gheimhreadh. Rinneadh saoirse den daoirse. Agus d’fhágamar agaibhse mar oidhreacht í.
A ghlúnta na saoirse cuimhnígí orainne, glúnta na haislinge..


The above poem is on a plaque and written on a wall in a garden of remembrance in Dublin . The garden is a poignant a quiet little oasis in the city centre.

The Garden commemorates freedom fighters from various uprisings, including:
– the 1798 rebellion of the Society of United Irishmen
– the 1803 rebellion of Robert Emmet
– the 1848 rebellion of Young Ireland
– the 1867 rising of the Fenian Brotherhood
– the 1916 Easter Rising of the Irish Volunteers and the Irish Citizen Army
– the 1919-21 Irish War of Independence of the IRA.
The Garden was opened in 1966 by President Eamon de Valera on the fiftieth anniversary of the 1916 Easter Rising, in which he had been a commander. Its focal point is a statue of the Children of Lir by Oisín Kelly, symbolising rebirth and resurrection.


The Author

Liam Mac Uistin

Liam Mac Uistin is a well-known author and playwright. His versions of ancient Irish stories and legends have been published in the Irish language.  He lives in Dublin with his family.

The Statue  in the drawing above is  of the Children of Lir

The Sculptor

Oisín Kelly, symbolising rebirth and resurrection, added in 1971.


The words speak for themselves so does the sculpture

I have put this piece of music because it is of the era that the poem speaks of. It is Irish History and part of a long war, as useless in my eyes as any of the wars I have displayed the poetry of, in this poetry challenge.  I do not support the IRA, or any side in any war.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

Holding On


There she waits under yonder tree waiting for her love, her eyes downcast she does not see me. Every day without fail she waits for him, come sun, rain, snow or hail.

I cannot help her though I have tried. I have held her hand and nursed her when she has cried. Oh! mistress sweet what can I do to take this vale of tears from you.

The path that she has trod, she has flattened down the green and luscious sod. I feel her pain yet I can’t help. Could you not intervene please God.

So thin so thin and her eyes grown dim. Her girlish joy all gone she is as good dead her soul just holding on like the words of a nearly forgotten song.

Dublin nights


Dublin lights Dublin bright DUBLIN DUBLIN we had such a lovely night. We were free we felt alive I really felt my spirit fly. Now I sit here and I smile as life goes on here all the while.

Blogger of the Year Award.

Thank you so much for this award. If you’re interested in natural science, please drop by and visit her!

The “Blog of the Year” award is a little different from some other awards, because you accumulate stars.

Here are the ‘rules’ for this award:

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6 As a winner of the award – please add a link back to the blog that presented you with the award – and then proudly display the award on your blog and sidebar … and start collecting stars…

Yes – that’s right – there are stars to collect!

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When you begin you will receive the ‘1 star’ award – and every time you are given the award by another blog – you can add another star!

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Which means that you can check out your favourite blogs, and even if they have already been given the award by someone else, then you can still bestow it on them again and help them to reach the maximum 6 stars!

For more information check the FAQ on The Thought Palette.

There are so many blogs that I’d like to nominate. Truly I would love to nominate all of my friends but after much thought here are a few.

Noeleen writes from her soul, with knowledge and such truth and honesty.

Such a beautiful and feeling blog

Art writes of Zen and his wisdom and love burns through

This wonderful lady has three blogs and they are all magnificent!

She is just so amazingly talented!

another wonderful and lovely person who oozes talent!

Martin is Martin is Martin he writes verse the like of which I have not seen before. To add to that he now reads it for us occasionally which is magic! OH! and he will not like me nominating him as he is humble.

I really would like to add more blogging but right now I have to go and may be able to get back to this post for a few days  so for now that will have to do ! I swear you are all brilliant so please don’t think I am mean for not mentioning you . God bless and hug you all. xxxx

Drifting away.

She was used to that look now. It no longer held any foreboding. Strange, one day she had just looked up and seen it and it had had no effect. No knotting in the stomach, no need to go and pee.

Suddenly she was untouchable, his words just bounced off of her. Nothing got through , it was such a relief it was liberating. She no longer felt the need to go out, there  was no need to get up or even wash. What was the point she no longer had anywhere to go. Her friends had long since dissipated  seen off and dispensed with by his silver tongue.

She no longer felt the need for food any more, no it was easier to just not bother . Slip away silently slip away further and further each day.

No she was not stupid in fact she was a  highly  educated woman……. but that was years ago………. before. No need to dwell no need to think things out, that was too hard it takes too much energy. No it would be simpler to just give in now . Close her eyes shut out the pain and drift away …………… It should not be long now.




Christmas Fayre

Christmas fayre

Rush, rush, buy, buy, spend , spend get this, get that get it all grab those treats no matter how large or how small.

Thirty five days to Christmas how much luca  can you splash. How far can you thrash the cash? Lots of booze too much food, expensive presents. You don’t need, don’t you think all this show is  crude and full of greed.

Don’t forget the fairy lights they sparkle on the Christmas Tree lighting up the nights.

Push that trolley girl, grab those deals spend all your lolly Oh! it is all so happy it is all so full of light , open your eyes, love, see the plight.

google images

Makes no difference to this young lad which ever way up he feels lost and missing the family Christmas he never had. He is tired and cold out on the streets no home no job  barely 20yrs old.

Or there is Kay she was born on a Christmas Day but that only seems to make it worse, she was made to feel less important than a curse. Her house was always short on  happiness  not to mention care it was always worse at Christmas. Lost and unloved it’s not fair.

So many people homeless in the cold. hungry, dirty    poverty isn’t fussy some are   young   and some are old.

You will pass them in the street, rushing , busy off to parties your friends to meet. You might give them a sideways look, slip them some change, there that is you off the hook. As you enjoy your festive fayre stop and think of those poor souls, outside freezing, is that fair.



Lost and lonely at Christmas this happens every year, it is not nice to know,it is not good to hear. So avert your eyes so you don’t see that sadly every year the numbers grow.

Why does this happen why do they leave their homes , is it fair that they feel it is safer  to be out on the streets alone. Look around you, see what you have, lovely children , husband and  home so spare a thought, or even better lend a hand to these  people all alone. Give some time I promise you, you will feel grand.



Poetry Challenge #7 18/11/2012

I cannot explain again about the pointlessness of war. No one will listen to me. The Middle East, Syria, Israel, Gazza, Afghanistan, Iraq , no  to mention the civil wars on the African continent. If you will no listen to me let this returning soldier , one of the luckier ones. PLEASE. you can read more words from war here

The Hollow Man I’ve made myself hollow again.
Life, love and phone contract paused… on hold.
Forgotten battles regain definition
As day-to-day worries tick-tock to sepia thoughts of old.

I’m thirsty for the forthcoming chapters;
New tales to trade for backslaps and beer;
Yarns rich with adventure (hinting at bravery)
Will mask my soul’s disgrace and despair,

As pallid ghosts of friends perch on bar stools
While their technicolour doppelgangers
Grin dustily from pictures on shelves.
For now, valiant thoughts of tragic grandeur

Allow my fears to be suppressed and sealed
Into three brown envelopes left with parade-ground precision on my desk.

Ed Poynter


Ed Poynter was an Infantry Officer in the British Army. He served in The Rifles (and before that The Royal Green Jackets) and saw action in Iraq in 2007 with 4 Rifles (TELIC 10) and Afghanistan in 2009 with 2 Rifles (HERRICK 10). He left the army in April 2010 and is now working as an English teacher in Sussex.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below

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