It’s Mental health awareness week this week and Clive at Take it Easy is an advocate for this cause each year having read his posts I am joining him today to highlight the plight of people suffering. Please read Clive’s post the link is above.
Taught Stressed out On the edge Coiled like a spring Cracks starting to show Just ready to combust Primal scream is welling up Had enough, can't take anymore Can't stand still my brain is exploding Need flight, take to my heels, I am empty.
We cannot ignore this Mental health is the poor relation in the NHS.
Dan Antion has invited us to take part in “The Forth Annual Thursday Doors Writing Challenge which officially began on Wednesday, May 1st. The challenge runs the entire month of May. You can submit as many entries as you like. If you want to join the fun, pick a door, write a story, poem, novel, screenplay, musical score – anything at all – as long as it’s inspired by that door image. The completed entries and images to use are in the gallery on Dan’s page along with the Rules .
I have written a little “prosetry” an almost story/ almost poem about a hungry Vampire. Can you see her in the shadows?
In the shadows she stands jealously watching those who walk in the sun. Fingers ripping at her skin,slowly her blood drips down her white face. Longingly, she weaves her dreams where her hopes are spun. Watching those who live in the light, her thoughts so dark. She wants their bodies, she craves their souls She needs their blood and to devour them whole. Her eyes searching for a victim to lure To infect a victim, her motives unpure. She watches as a young man walking home. The burning ache deep within her drives her to distraction. She aches for him, she burns for him she cannot find satisfaction. Blood lust makes her bold and brazen she steps out of the shadows to catch his eye. He moves towards her in the shadows Excited by what he sees. Her body barely covered by her cloak. Attracted by her jet black eyes and her skin so white His juices rising from deep within …a desperate need to taste her. Come, she whispers licking her lips He slides his hands along her hips She acts all soft and coy Moving her body into his, he’s suddenly filled with joy. He thinks she likes him, that he will have his way Unsuspecting he follows her deeper into the shadows. Away from human hustle and lights they move away The danger lights should be flashing , the warnings he refuses to see Too busy to notice her eyes change colour and her lips flush blood red. She lets him slip inside of her she still likes to feel desired She lets him reach his highest delight, as her fangs sink in his neck. She sucked him dry and for a second mourned before leaving him for dead.
Sadje at Keep it alive said: “Welcome back to another WDYS prompt“
Rules;
You can write a post on your blog and create a pingback to link to the original post.
Write an original story, poem or a caption.
There is no limit to words or format but keep it family-friendly.
If you post a response before next Sunday, I will be able to add it to my roundup post.
I will do a round-up next Sunday before the next Prompt is posted.
It is always helpful if you can give your post/story/poem a title.
There are issues with pingbacks in WordPress these days. So please paste a link of your post in the comments section so that I don’t miss anyone in the roundup post.
Please tag your responses with
#Whatdoyousee
Or
#WDYS
Does this picture inspire you to write something?
Image credit; Marianna Smiley @ Unsplash “Thrive” by Danial Pooper a sculpture in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.
For the visually challenged reader, this image shows a giant female figure who is opening her chest to show the greenery inside.There are cracks on the visage and torso of this sculpture.
Angel in Pain
I saw the Angel at the grave weeping tears. The weight grief she carried, through the years
It hurt to see the angel so, such a burden she had to carry. The hate and betrayal all around I wondered why she’d tarry.
Her tears were real I touched 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’d held dying men and abused women and children too.
The world is not improving even after all that she has tried . To help us toward peace and love is always pushed aside.
She asked me for my help, I was indeed surprised. I 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 knowledge gained from living life too long.
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 and why upon this slope. She looked at me with pleading eyes and whispered “These are the seeds of hope!”
I was holding in my hands the hope for all the world, It was a terrifying thought. To keep them safe, my fingers gently curled .
Plant them please, plant them now and make a 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.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 seeds I began to sow.
The angel sighed so gently I nearly didn’t hear. She 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.
Good Sunday Morning everyone. It’s time for Jim Adams Song Lyric Sunday. .
May 5, 2024 – Songs by performers from American Idol suggested by Nancy aka The Sicilian Storyteller. This is Nancy’s final week as guest host and what a Stirling Job she has done providing us with great prompts. Yea! Nancy.
Now I am from the UK so in fact I have never watched American Idol. So I have done a lot of YouTube and Wikipedia traling. I have come up with four of the “best” according to YouTube. These are the ones that caught my ear and some information about them. I know I am supposed to give the lyrics but that would make this post way too long so I am going to break the rules this week…. 😱 So here we go first up is “Dibesh Pokharel (born October 24, 1997),known by his stage name Arthur Gunn, is a Nepalese-born American singer-songwriter from Wichita, Kansas, who came to national attention in 2020 as the runner-up finalist on the eighteenth season of the singing reality show American Idol. He started singing in 2014 and is known for his “textured, sandpapery” vocals. He released his eight-song debut album, Grahan, in early 2018. He released another album, KHOJ, in 2019 with singles including “Ma,” “Khoj” and “Karnali (The River). More information here. “
Second up is “Catie Virginia Turner (born February 14, 2000)[4][5] is an American pop singer. She rose to prominence as a contestant on sixteenth season of American Idol, placing in the top seven. In September 2019, Turner further gained notoriety after her song “Prom Queen” was used in the trailer for Shane Dawson‘s web series The Beautiful World of Jeffree Star, which gained over 11 million views in just one week. She has released four EPs: The Sad Vegan as an independent artist, followed by Heartbroken and Milking It, Comedy & Tragedy: Act I, and Comedy & Tragedy: Act II with Atlantic Records. More information here.”
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Third on the list is “Abi auditioned in Los Angeles. She sang “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish, from the Barbie film soundtrack. All three judges voted “yes”, sending her to the next round.
One week later, the judges surprised her via a video message at the Palm Springs Street Fair, where she frequently gigs, informing her that her Golden Ticket was upgraded to a Platinum Ticket, which enables her to skip the Idol Arena stage. More Information Here“
Last but nowhere near last “Walker Burroughs auditioned in Louisville. He sang “Love Like This” by Ben Rector and “Hello” by Lionel Richie. All three judges voted “yes”, sending him to the next round. Read more here. “
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Then I found this , one of my favourites James Blunt singing with IAM Tongi. William “Iam” Guy Tongi (born September 1, 2004) is a singer who won season 21 of American Idol. He is the first person from Hawaii, the first Pacific Islander, and the first non-country singer in three years, to win the competition. He is also the first winner to have been born after the show’s premiere on June 11, 2002. More information here.
I originally wrote this post and all the posts I have done over these last days of April Child Abuse Awareness Month over 11 years ago… NOTHING HAS CHANGED.
Today is the last day of April and I have to say I am glad. Everything I have researched, everything I have written about Child Abuse has made me sick and sad! Children are our future a singer once sang, but he had, had his childhood stolen and he became a strange and sad man and he is not the only one.
Yes children are our future but at this rate do we have one. Children are mistreated , abused, sold down the river in every single country under the sun. The poems I have written have all been stories but are all based on facts I researched. The things that are done to children, some beaten black and blue. Married off at eight or nine or sold in to slavery too, girls cut and sewn up simply to please men, young boys dressed as girls and taught to dance bought and owned by “Pious” men and used for sex after they have watched them prance.
Children in refugee camps prisoners of war…so many wars in this world so many refugees. This video is about Syria but it could be any war at the moment. How can they grow up normal?
Children and young people bullied at their school, harassed by phone and internet just for not being this weeks “cool” Young girls taken out of school and trained to be prostitutes the younger they are the better for old men who like them best if they are cute. Stolen from their village and sent as slaves to other lands worked to death and beaten or used for sex acts and killed when it all gets out of hand.
Forced to watch their parents, their homes and friends destroyed, tortured and burned or maimed. They get dragged off into the jungle as boy and girl soldiers to be trained. Young girls get used as wives, still fight until their babies drop then they carry them into battle on their backs to machetes in hand, kill people and set fire to bodies, villages and crops.
Young girls about to take their GCSEs go on holidays to their parents homelands for pre exam treat have no idea they are off to their future husbands meet. Ripped from all they have known a normal western life suddenly to become a stranger’s wife and live a poverty stricken village strife
Children, abused and battered, some physically some mentally , sexually used from an early age . What chance have they got their heart so full of rage. Some will become abusers for abuse is all they know, some will with help flourish and try to teach it should not be so.
No doubt there are more ways that children get abused, some parents even abuse their own children, sexually or with the fist, these will be the fathers who boast that their little girl is sweet sixteen and never been kissed! The otheres will be mothers’ who force or sell their children however much those children resist. Or push their children to be models, beauty queens or actors to fulfil their own ambitions.
Or seeing your mother beaten until she is hospitalized , living in fear of being next until your humanity dies.
I know that I am ranting but as these tears fall from my eyes there are children out there starving, freezing , hurting, bleeding, screaming , pleading, broken , humiliated and every so often one of them dies. Actually lots of them die. Don’t worry, you can close your ears and eyes … it is too late for me now I have learnt the who’s and whys. Sadly Abuse breeds Abuse and many mental illnesses.
I have to stop writing now , but I promise I shall not stop shouting out because I have just started now. I have written more but I haven’t the heart to print anymore now.💜
Just because I am not the same Is fair that I’m the butt of their game. Every day I dread school Because it is always me that they treat cruel.
OH! I hate each and every break That’s when my loneliness over takes. It is no fun to be the one everybody picks on, They mock me with voices singsong. Rip my clothes and trash my books All through class they give me dirty looks.
Sometimes they follow me home, Why won’t they just leave me alone. It doesn’t stop there, not all. As soon as I get in they start to call and send texts to my phone. Swearing taunting calling me names They enjoy playing these games.
I tried to fight back I tried to reason But I can’t do anything to please them. I tried to tell the teacher but she was not listening So they shoved my head down the toilet and gave me a christening!
I feel that it cannot get worse Then someone goes and takes my purse. For fun and good measure they give me a hearty beating Leaving me bruised and bleeding.
Sitting here in the hall crying No one stops or cares that I feel I’m dying. So I walk home hurt and grieving All hope gone nothing left to believe in.
Mum and dad, have done their best. They’ve begged the school to ask the gang to give me a rest. Every day it is relentless it goes on and on. Nothing happens nothing is done They hurt me and think it’s fun.
I have had enough I can’t go on, Harassment on my laptop has now begun. Another way for them to torture me I can’t stand it, let me be. “NO YOU BASTARDS I have had enough I will not take anymore of this stuff. I have got a piece of strong rope I have written you all a neat note. So round my throat I knot this rope I am sick of you all I really cannot cope. Sorry Mum and Dad dont cry You did your best, I love you ….bye.
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Children are now bullied so badly at school even when they get home they cannot escape because the bullies abuse them via, their phones and computers. What have we become when our children can hound each other to suicide just because they look or act or speak differently?
Yes she is a beautiful child she has that look of innocence that drives men wild. She could make a fortune it is true but is it really the right thing to do.
She will love it all the fuss, the travel the treats the complements from all she meets. There is a future in photo modelling for her she has that presence that maked all who see her stare.
What if she falls into the wrong hands there’s plenty out there who will misuse her beauty plenty who have nasty plans. No she will be fine no harm will come to this child of mine.
“Mummy , mummy can I go and play?” no my sweet not today. “Please mummy I want my friends to stay!” no you have work to do, send them away. “Please mum can I go to school I want to be with people my age I want to learn and play the fool.” “No we have a teacher for you, there are adverts and film work for you to do.”
“Why can’t I have friends around that are my age I don’t the like photographers they rant and rage.” ‘No I told you you are special your very precious. You don’t have time to skip and play face it sweetie your looks won’t last and you’ll be too tall one day!”
We should get a couple more years fame at this rate we are clawing in the money she has time to be young later she can wait. Sadly that’s not true her childhood robbed and she becomes sad and blue.
Slowly all her ties get cut her friends grow few she is neither child nor adult too. The lines of age soon get blurred is she thirteen or twenty three and a third?
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Another form of abuse not quite so obvious but just as dangerous. The parents live their dreams and missed opportunities through their children. Not all but some, child models, child actors, child beauty queens loose their childhoods. They feel no worth unless they are being complimented . They are not balanced, being deprived of growing up through a childhood. Basically they are used as much as if they have been sold in to slavery. Sad little lost dolls. A poem for Child Abuse Month.
They came in the night, they made the women scream like animals. Then they killed the men, then they cut the breasts off of the women with babies, then they burnt the men’s bodies the village and the crops. Some of them were men, but more were children boys and girls.. with angelic faces, dead eyes , tight curly hair and machetes and gun.
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They came in the night they caused a terrible fright. They butchered the men and raped the women again and again then cut off the breasts of the mothers with babies. They shot those that ran like a dog with rabies.
They rounded us up, those under five they did not leave alive but us that could walk they took. The last sight we had of our sweet lives was the flames of our village, the last sight for those brave enough to look.
No weep for your brother, no weep for your father or mother no weep or they beat you boy. Now you be a soldier you carry a gun say goodbye to happy days no more fun no more joy. You learn to shoot, you learn fast, you do as you are told you do not get asked. You sleep when your told you march till you drop if you do good you get a blanket to keep out the night’s cold.
You learn how to throw a grenade and set a mine then you learn to watch as people die from famine. You learn no pity you learn only pain what ever you can get is someone’s loss but now it’s your gain. You eat when the big boys say eat. If you take too much or steal it you get beat.
They don’t just take us boys they take girls too and what’s worse they have to sleep with the men and they get babies which is a curse. They have to do all that we have to do but don’t worry what the men do to them they sometimes do to us too.
We have to kill without mercy, burn villages and crops us boys and the girls right up until their babies drop. No good looking frightened that will not save you, no good being pretty or cute that don’t bode well for you.
We loose what love we had, it is replaced by the gun and for long hot days in the sun covered in blood eventually you forget your mum. No chance for learning at school we are soldiers now on the road stealing and killing……… now isn’t that cool. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They came in the night, they made the women scream like animals. Then they killed the men, then they cut the breasts off of the women with babies, then they burnt the men’s bodies the village and the crops. Some of them were men, but more were children boys and girls.. with angelic faces, dead eyes , tight curly hair and machetes and guns.
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Child soldiers, taken from their villages, boys and girls both. Taken , used and abused. Beaten , hardened until they have no feelings. Girls forced in to marriage and made pregnant still take part in raids..pregnant or carrying babies on their backs. Boys treated no better abused and hardened . Another horrible type of Child Abuse
Its Saturday and early yesterday this morning Linda popped in with this “Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “show.” Use it as a noun or a verb. Have fun!”
Show must go on was Freddie Mercury’s by line. Even when he was dying he put on the make up and showed us how it was to be done! So let me show you Freddie at his best!
Let me Show Freddie at the end !
Now Freddie has shown Sam the Show must go on and that that’s a lesson Sam has learned well in his approach to his fans and the Show.
Then just to end up let’s rise the tempo and listen to Leo Sayer with the same message. He says the Show must go on too!
After reposting, a couple of my poem yesterday from Child Abuse Awareness Month 2012. I thought I would tidy up and repost this one about female genital mutilation( FGM ). This poem broke heart to research and write. It broke my heart again today. Some girls are as younger than the Grace in my poem
Such a pretty girl, such a lovely face. You cannot believe what they planned for little Grace.
She has dressed up for the party, she is twelve today the house is full of women they are all Aunties, that’s what mama says.
She can’t remember detail, her screams that made her mother pale. She does remember blood OH! it was everywhere. She remembers the cobwebs on the ceiling at which she had to stare.
The pain is still so awful she can’t get out of bed. So much blood but none of it is as bad as the thoughts within her head. So tired and in need of sleep but the pain is so intense that she cannot find rest. The pain does not relent.
They told her she was clean now , and fit to be a bride. They said she was a woman and she should be filled with pride.
Poor Grace could feel no pride, all she felt was pain from the stitches and the feeling that she would die if they touched her again. She feared growing up and having to marry a man they told her they’d have to cut the stitches then. She could not bear that thought..I do not think anyone can.
This poem is about female circumcision or female genital mutilation( FGM ) as it is commonly known. I could not write this poem last week but I did post a link to information on this abuse. But I felt I must be strong as I must bring this abuse of young girls to your attention. So there it is a poem for Child Abuse Awareness Month.
Hello and welcome to Heartland Echoes! I am thrilled to have you here. So, sit back, relax, and stay awhile as you explore my diverse range of written poetry, mental health articles, motivational quotes, and ten captivating chapters of my autobiography. Get ready to be inspired and uplifted as you delve into the world of Heartland Echoes.
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