September Music 11

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 piece of music is The Theme to The World at War by Carl Davis.

My poem.

Small man, most evil

Made a nation do his will

Genocide his sin

The world was brought to it’s knees.

Fighting for all to be free.

Failed.

Lune Day 24

At Kat Myrman‘s suggestion,along with Jane Dougherty, I’m trying out the Lune form this month. The Lune is a three line poem, either 5/3/5 syllables or 3/5/3 words.

The politicians

Rant and rave

Yet they do nothing.

Thursday photo prompt: Conflagration #writephoto

This is my entry for Sue Vincent of Daily Echo Thursday Photo Challenge. #writephoto.

Rules and Pingback Here

Conflagration.

As they neared the summit Tom said our goal is just another fifty miles. We should see the city lights just over the next ridge.

Though hopeful the lads, who had been marching for five days now since their Chinnook had been shot down, were tired.

Tom the oldest and most experienced soldier reached the summit first. His heart sank, he had managed to keep these lads alive all this time and for what?

One by one the the five other soldiers joined him at the top of the ridge. “What the #### ? ” They exclaimed, Jared, the youngest asked ” what’s going on Sir?”

Before Tom could answer they saw a huge aircraft of sorts flash across the the city. It dropped its payload “drop” shouted Tom, knowing as he did it was useless they were all dead.

Out Damn Spot.

Today  a grease stain was found on the sofaūüėĪ. It was not caused by me or hubby but a guest. Personally I would have left it until tomorrow and used the talc powder remedy. But hubby is impetuious. …. Now it is worse. To destress I have written three Haiku.

                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stain on the leather

Out, out damn spot, it won’t go.

It’s there forever.

It’s hard to believe

How much this made hubby grieve

Stress making me sieve!

Damn, damn greasy stain

Here now to stay what a pain

HUBBY! Leave it now!

Just Jot It January: Let Go? How?

Today started ¬†well, I was up ¬†early ¬†and ¬†at ¬†the gym! I had ¬†to smile ¬†lots ¬†of ¬†strangers ¬†at ¬†the gym all in their ¬†new ¬†gear, couldn’t ¬†help ¬†but wander ¬†how ¬†many ¬†would ¬†still be there in, say ¬†three weeks! Well I ¬†met ¬†my ¬†friend ¬†and we had our ¬†work out ¬†and caught up ¬†on ¬†all the ¬†things ¬†that had ¬†gone on over Christmas.

9.30am Back home sticky  time   but  we managed  to get out  of  the house  by

11am without fighting too much ¬†though ¬†the subject ¬†“that ¬†must ¬†not ¬†be mentioned” ¬†was mentioned ¬†and heatedly ¬†discussed!

We ¬†had ¬†a lovely ¬†day ¬†with friends, their ¬†grandchild, their ¬†dogs ¬†their ¬†happy ¬†life………

7.30pm   Home after a truly  lovely  day , got  tea  made  and  had a glass of  wine, actually  felt  relaxed even able  to cope  with the shit flying around  my  world.

9pm ish  eldest  son rang  the  evening  went  down from there, the  husband  started  another rant  on the situation.

23.38pm I am sitting ¬†here alone, desperately ¬†sad and totally ¬†empty. What is ¬†the point , where is the hope of ¬†things improving . I have ¬†promised ¬†to try and let go, move ¬†forward but ¬†how can I when life ¬†keeps dropping ¬†shit on ¬†me ¬†from a great height! Hell I am in hell……………..

Sorry  can  no longer  keep any  promises !

 

This post is part of Just Jot It January hosted by Linda G Hill.

Thanks for tuning in and if you want to join, feel free to click on the link and start jotting!

 

The Bloody Tower.

 

Pouring out of Poppies

Pouring out of Poppies

On realizing my eyes opened wide

Each poppy was a soldier that had died.

I was so  shocked to see

The pouring out of red running into a sea.

 

On Monday  we went to London Town

To see the poppies swirling  the Tower round  and round.

I was shocked  through to the core.

To witness  the  number of  those who were no more.

 

poppies galore

poppies galore

Rows and rows  growing into a river

Tumbling  from the window pouring on forever.

Each one was a mother’s son, a ¬†husband or a brother

Such sacrifice displayed for all to see , cousin, uncle even lover.

 

I humbly prayed for God  bless them all

Each soul represented  by a red poppy growing tall.

Such a sacrifice for  what gain

“They” ¬†said ¬†a war like that ¬†would not come again.

 

Sadly ¬†now we know the great “They” lied.

For  along came world war 2  and more people died.

War goes on and never stops, no matter how we try

It will always raise it’s ugly ¬†head and more men and women will die.

 

Blood on your hands.

Hot wet and sticky I ooze through your fingers

You cannot completely erase me  I am the stain that lingers.

I lay at your feet glaring up at you screaming, screaming

No amount of your tears can cleanse me no more can I be gleaming, gleaming.

 

I am your guilt  your broken pride

I am the the wrongs you cannot hide.

I am there and I will not go

I an more guilt that you will ever want to know.

 

I am red, as the setting sun, I am as black as the deepest hole

I am your festering guilt, the tightening of a thousand needles in your soul.

I am your crusade, your jihad your ‘Holy War?’

I am the lurking danger far worse than you foresaw.

 

Blood on stones, blood on the walls blood of the innocents who do no harm

Blood on races blood on their souls, blood on their heads to some  a balm.

Blood in your ears blood in your eyes  blood in your living rooms on TV screens.

Blood of  the old and of  the young , the child, the pregnant mum cover your ears to their screams.

 

Hot wet and sticky I ooze through your fingers

You cannot completely erase me  I am the stain that lingers.

I lay at your feet glaring up at you screaming, screaming

No amount of your tears can cleanse me no more can I be gleaming, gleaming.

SoCs, Lest We Forget.

 

Giant Rememberence  Poppy

Giant Rememberence Poppy

Lest we forget? a war  to end all wars

Yet everywhere  you look there  are more  and more!

We preach  peace, we say no more

Still somewhere, on every  continent,  someone is at war!

Neighbour  against neighbour  brothers and sisters  too

Always it is  the innocents  who do the  suffering.  What are we to do?

 

They are erecting giant Poppies to commemorate the start of  the first world war.

It started  in a foreign land, a duke  was shot  the result we know and  more.

The first world war started in 1914  on the 28th of July

Sadly looking round the  world , we have learned  nothing . Can you tell me why?

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

This  is my  entry  for  this  week  for  SoCs on Lindaghill .

 

Here are the rules:

1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.

2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence ‚Äď one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry ‚Äď it doesn‚Äôt matter. Just let the words carry you along until you‚Äôre ready to stop.

3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say ‚ÄúWrite about dogs‚ÄĚ; the prompt will be more like, ‚ÄúMake your first sentence a question,‚ÄĚ or ‚ÄúBegin with the word ‚ÄėThe‚Äô.‚ÄĚ

4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people will come and read your post! The way to ping back, is to just copy and paste the URL of my post somewhere on your post. Then your URL will show up in my comments, for everyone to see. For example, in your post you can copy and paste the following: This post is part of SoCS:  http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/07/25/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-2514/  The most recent pingbacks will be found at the top.

5. Read at least one other person‚Äôs blog who has linked back their post. Even better, read everyone‚Äôs! If you‚Äôre the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, ‚ÄúStream of Consciousness Saturday,‚ÄĚ which you‚Äôll find right below the ‚ÄúLike‚ÄĚ button on my post.

6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!

7. Have fun!

FanFoFeb: Wasp Pie Life.

Everything I touch goes bad and turns to poison.
This is not the path that I would of willingly chosen.
I say too much or I am too quiet
It’s my life, you want to try it?

 

Treading eggshells day after day
Bleeding feet with scars that won’t go away.
My heart torn out and pinned to my sleeve.
Painful thoughts my soul will deceive.

 

Life becomes  a rotting  corpse, nerves long stopped twitching.

Millions  of flies escaping out, buzzing around the kitchen

Everything sullied and spoiled no escape from this life of toil

Every attempt  at escape  viciously smashed down and foiled !

 

This life so bitter has a sting

Hands red red raw, reacting to a wedding ring!

The flour covered worktop such a mess

Takes all day to clear  up, smile and your  true feelings repress!

 

Pointless

Living with emotional crippledom is hard work , yes it gets no harder. At some point you simply cannot deal with the stress and the fear anymore. You just never know what will tip them over the edge. You get so tired of coping with family “do’s” you get so tired of holding that strained smile, pretending all is well, all the while knowing it bloody well is not.

Tired of being jealous of other families who seem happy  to all appearances, my bitchy side hopes that they are as bloody miserable as I am. My kinder side praying that that their happiness, togetherness, relaxedness is real. OH! God it must be real I pray the world is not as wretched as I am, I pray all marriages are not as taught, fraught  and stretched to the limit as mine is.  crawling across glass bleeding bleeding .

It never gets any better you pray it will you beg God it will but it doesn’t . What is the point , what is the point , what have I done done that is so bloody wrong? Hopeless, pointless no hope.

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