He is out in the garden.

He is out in the garden with the secateurs again

The flowers are looking nervous and praying for rain.

The airing cupboard is wearing a smile

He’s is busy elsewhere so it has peace for a while.

We need to eat, it must be time for dinner.

No but we have pie and custard, always a winner.

Who is this woman, what is her name

It is my sister I have told you again and again

The gentleman is nice but why is he here

He is my sister’s hubby my dear.

Oh!You are busy, too busy to call?

Yes I’m okay I just cope with it all.

Thing is I am tired and really stressed

I’m at the end of my tether but doing my best.

He is out in the garden with the secateurs again

The flowers are looking nervous and praying for rain.

I am so lonely, with no conversation

I need some company for self-preservation.

*********

I wrote this poem about Altzhimers after a telephone conversation with my sister this morning.

Drowning.

Drowning

Cold

Can’t breath

Lungs bursting

Pain exploding

Out of time and breath

Drowning I sink deeper

Darker ever the light recedes

I am trapped hopelessly in weeds

Held fast I silently breath my last

So sad, there’s nothing to flash before me.

A

Wasted

Pointless life

No one will miss

I leave not a mark

Unseen, unheard, undone

Wasted years lost on cold hearts

No songs for me, I was not free

Unloved, uncared for, useless, wasted

Lost from the beginning I could not see.

Trapped Soul

For years it fought against it’s tether

Yet the harder it fought the more it would wither.

It  caused itself so much pain,

Yearning for a freedom it never could gain.

Finally exhausted it decided one day

To no longer try to break away.

It decided that it should be what it should be.

So the soul stopped fighting, relaxed. Immediately it was set free.

Top picture from Pixabay, the second is mine .

Healer Willow Twirls

I wrote  this  little  ditty back in  2013. I was in a  bad place  ….it’s  so strange looking  back on  your  early  work. It obvious I  did not like myself very much  then.

Healer willow Twirls

 Whitewalls roll and swirl as willow heals

Will she ever escape from how it is, that others feel.

Lashes, slashes and wheals she hides them all from view

The stairwell whore  throws out swill she knows what to do.

http://fc07.deviantart.net/

Whitewalls  roll and swirl as willow heals

In the stairwell  the whore swills away her skills.

Wishing things better, never, never makes things so

willow is a healer, but she cannot heal willow

Whitewalls  roll and swirl as willow heals

Ills twirl  and swirl and woes beset the healer

Weeping  softly in the stairwell no one cares how the whore  feels

Sills  and trills the drowning healer willow the whore of the stairwell.

Cry for Help.

Cry For Help.

Help she screamed I cannot cope

No one turned no one spoke

Help he pleaded I am depressed

No one listened or her pain redressed

Help she begged I can’t go on

No one heard above their lala song

Help someone it hurts me so

No one bothered, as she swam against the flow

Help she whispers as ended her life

No one reached out to save her from strife

She said no more, she had died

No one noticed no one cried.

A poem of two sides.

Today it’s a poem of two sides. All I did was change two words for one in the top line and three words in the bottom line. What a difference that made.

A poem of two sides.

I put on my crown of thorn

And vow no more to mourn

The passing of my days

Lost in depression’s maze

New resolutions I will make

To smile and cope

Pretending it’s not fake

Farewell to joy farewell to hope.

***********

Remove my crown of thorn

And vow no more to mourn

The passing of my days

Lost in depression’s maze

New resolutions I will make

To smile and cope

Pretending it’s not fake

Farewell sadness welcome hope.

Bright young Men

We sent them off to war,

These bright young men

We had no knowledge of what they saw,

They came home bright young men no more .

Yes though brave they were no longer whole

Those that survived had no soul.

Many died,the lucky ones, death to them was kind.

Those who returned were faded in body and in mind.

Their loved ones at first relieved

Soon found they had much cause to grieve.

Though there, in body broken,

Their fears left unspoken

Their minds were left behind.

They went out whole, these bright young things.

They returned lost, holding on by gossimar strings

They went full of pride for God and King

They ran head long into hell

On return they could not relinquish it’s bad spell.

So we had a nation of half men, half ghosts

Fearful, their heads still had them at their posts.

The trenches and the blasts of bombs, the smell of death

Clung to them and bled them dry, the whole in body, the blind of eye

The amputee, it was as if they had never left.

We sent them off to war,

These bright young men

We had no knowledge of what they saw,

They returned bright young men no more.

Paintings by William Rothenstein.

September Music 12

For the month of September I am going to choose a piece of music or song and write a poem or alternative version. Jane Dougherty is doing a September Stanza here. And Kat Myrman is doing September a poem a day Here.

Today’s piece of music is, The Devil’s Trill by Vannessa Mae.

My interpretation.

Frightened and alone I retreat into my shell

I am afraid that the black is returning. I am descending into hell.

The zip is returning to my mouth slowly but surely closing.

The nothingness, is crawling into my soul leaving it frozen .

The silence is already here it screams above the noise

I go about my everyday wearing a smile not to loosing my poise.

It is easier to give into the waves of black.

Than it is to fight the demons throwing knives at my back.

I see it moving in, closing down the horizon, blurring out all hope

No escape, no appeal the relentlessness. I hold out no hope.

The snipes and the jibes are ever present now

The condemnation and the shame is making my back bow.

Claws and talons scratch at me they leave their bloody marks

On my arms and on my back . I hear it screaming in my head as at me it barks!

“Usless you are useles, lazy and stupid , good for nothing a waste of space.”

It is easier to give in now than to fight as once again I fall from grace.

Lost I reach for the bitter pill

No hope left I hear the Devil’s Trill.

Withdrawal Moans.

I have been telling you all, about (I hope) the last few weeks of weaning myself off of Gabapentin. It’s a neuropathic painkiller. I have been on it for over eight years I have weaned myself down from four times six hundred mgs a day to one hundred mgs twice a day. With no great help from the doctors who just want to hand them out like sweets to keep me quite. Recently I had been altenating between one 100 mgs morning and night one day and just one 100mgs in the evening on the alternate day. It is hard,harder than I thought. This last part is so hard I just want to reach for the pills. So you guys can help me by listening to me writing it out.

A big thank you for baring with me. I am lowering the dosage again.

I have been feeling really unwell this week. It is still the withdrawal, the symptoms are really getting me down . I am down to 100mgs every other night but it is unbelievably hard. The days after the nights I don’t have a tablet are awful. I can hardly function.

I was hoping I might be off the tablets by now. But I am still struggling. I am tired irritable, anxious, and I have pains in places I didn’t know I had, plus headache, and backache. Still the imaginary spiders are crawling all over me.

The weather is not helping it all just so wearing. I am trying to keep positive and have put in place things to look forward to.

Today is not a good day so I can’t manage any positives. But I am going to try and post today.

💜💜💜💜💜💜

Homeless at Christmas

I  originally wrote  this in  December  2013  but it is  still relevant  so. Have revamped it a little.

Image  found  here 

I hope it won’t snow this Christmas

It’s one of my biggest fears.

It was so bitter last year even

Thinking of it makes me shed tear.

The homless won’t be eating Turkey with all the trim

Unless they find a charity shelter which they can get in.

The people at the shelters are angels from up above

They give their time and plenty love.

They really are saviours they really do so much good.

They give warmth and comfort, dinner and even  Christmas pud.

OH! why are they out here I hear you say.

There are lots of reasons, have you got all day?

Dave got made redundant the bills he couldn’t pay

So the bank stepped in and took his home away.

His wife could not stand the B&B that the social offered them

So she took the children off to live with her mum so Dave won’t see them again.

image  found  here 

Jen, she was cheeky girl always having fun

Staying out late and playing up in the end it got too much for her mum!

After a big row one night  in the summer she asked Jen to go,

So she is struggling alone out there, when your homeless it is amazing how fast your friends all go.

image found  here 

Rob well his story is very sad,

It all started with his drinking then he discovered drugs. He became violent and everything turned bad.

He fell out with his mother’s boyfriend who told him he had to go

And then threw him out into the December  snow.

The reasons are legion you can take your pick,

People  who  loose  their jobs  because  they became  sick

From parents who can’t cope

To addictions that make you loose all hope,

Parents or family who beat you, family who will not stop at a touch

They want you to give them way too much.

This may all seem morbid this may all seem too sad

I hate to tell you all, things can be so very, very bad.

People young and old see their hopes and dreams unfold and vanish in clouds of smoke

As they end up on the streets lost and without any hope.

So enjoy your Christmas parties, your families and your Yule tide fare

But as you raise a toast remember the homeless ones out there .

 

YOU  CAN DONATE  OR  HELP HERE 

And also here for Crisis at Christmas