Thursday photo prompt -Secrets #writephoto

Sue Vincent’s#Writphoto.
Hi everyone just a quick note if anyone would like to re-post any of their old #writephoto prompts please do. While Sue is not posting a photo prompt due to not being well, she would love to see old ones reposted.Now if you would like to join in please use the #writephoto badge

This part of Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt –  #writephoto. I wrote this one in Nov 2016.

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Secrets. A Nonet.

secret

Fractals of light  pour through  the  window

Motes of  dust  dance across the  floor

Timeless here within the  slow

Span  of  her life  Princess

Familiar kneels

And prays  for less

Pain. She hides

Secrets

Here.

Thursday photo prompt – Secrets #writephoto . 2

This  part  of  Sue Vincent‘s  Thursday photo prompt -Secrets #writephoto

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 Use the image below to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 16th November and link back to this post with a pingback. Please make sure that the pingback works and if not, copy and paste your link into the comments section of Sue Vincent’s post.

Don’t forget to use the #writephoto hashtag in your title so your posts can be found.

You can find all last week’s entries in the round-up. Please visit and read the stories and poems and explore the sites of their writers.

Rules  and  pingback  here 

I keep  their  secrets.

secret

 

I was not always as you see me now, decaying  old ready to take a final bow.

I was beautiful tall and strong , a stable bet to set your life upon.

It is cold at night and the wind finds my every crack

I tremble and shudder now as the tubes roll by on the nearby  track.

I brace myself against the traffic’s thunder,

Each day that passes the fact I still stand here  is a wonder.

I keep  their  secrets

I used  to hear  the  children sing

Families living in me weaved their lives.

The chime of doorbells as they’d ring.

As I stood there for them strong in their joys and strife.

I have seen babies born and babies die,

Mothers grieving, husbands turning a blind eye.

Birthdays, marriages, divorces all old hat, kindly couples happy in each others care

Evil bastards who knock their women flat out on the stair,

Or shout them down until they loose all hope

Weighted down with worries and too many children to cope.

I keep their  secrets

The birds are now happy in my rafters

Their cooing fills my rooms instead of laughter ,

It is still a happy sound not unlike the sound

Of children playing here there  and  all around.

I keep  their secrets

At night lovers climb through my open doors

They make love upon my dust floors

For them I am their only meeting place ,

For what ever reason they may have to hide their face.

I keep  their  secrets .

Drinkers also drug addicts too

They hide within my walls to do what they must do.

I am decaying crumbling away

I do not want to go nor yet do I want to stay.

Try me out I could be the best deal for you

If you build me up I shall protect you true.

I could be the canvas to build your life upon.

I could be rebuilt, decorated and glazed I could dance again to children’s song.

I will keep  your  secrets.

Thursday photo prompt – Secrets #writephoto

This  part  of  Sue Vincent‘s  Thursday photo prompt -Secrets #writephoto

wp-1473955915710.jpg

 Use the image below to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 16th November and link back to this post with a pingback. Please make sure that the pingback works and if not, copy and paste your link into the comments section of Sue Vincent’s post.

Don’t forget to use the #writephoto hashtag in your title so your posts can be found.

You can find all last week’s entries in the round-up. Please visit and read the stories and poems and explore the sites of their writers.

Rules  and  pingback  here 

Secrets. A Nonet.

secret

Fractals of light  pour through  the  window

Motes of  dust  dance across the  floor

Timeless here within the  slow

Span  of  her life  Princess

Familiar kneels

And prays  for less

Pain. She hides

Secrets

Here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wordless Wednesday: Typewriter Secrets

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Image

Protect me Teddy

You  know all the answers Teddy  but you never tell me the questions

I am not happy here Teddy, have you any good suggestions.

Why do mummy  and daddy go out so such

Leaving us  with Uncle Joe …. he smells and I hate his touch.

 

Sitting here Teddy, sipping tea by  candle light I feel so unsure.

I love being here Teddy just me and you together here sitting on the floor.

I can hear him moving around downstairs, what shall we do if he knocks on our door.

Shall we go to bed Teddy and pretend we are asleep,we could hide under the sheets.

 

I don’t like him Teddy he hurts me so,

I can’t tell anyone, he says mummy  and Daddy don’t need to know.

He calls me his little pleasure angel his cuddly ball of joy

I don’t like those names, I hate his games and  I do not like his” toy.”

 

Time for us to go to bed Teddy, time for us to sleep.

I shall cuddle you Teddy , please protect me if into this room he creeps.

I have  got the bread knife , I know to use it,I am not allowed

But, Teddy I hate his games so I shall cut his “Toy” off as it stands out proud.

Table tales and tableau

Tip tap, tip tap you run your nails down me Crip crap crip crap elbows dig in me while the reading of your books set your mind free.

Cratchy claws, drooling maws purr purr stretching legs, tummy rub, yawning  jaws. You have sat upon me you have spat upon me you have fought over me then cleaned me up and then eaten you your tea on me!

You have hidden under me covered me with drapes and made a camp out of me. You have used me as bed and excited the girl you wed  and seen your first born’s head emerge while she lay screaming on me!

I’ve been scrubbed to an inch of  my life I have witnessed trouble tears and strife. I did once have a life out side of this room I was tall and I was stunning when in Spring I was in bloom. I spread my roots and lifted my branches up into the sky so I could touch the moon.

Summer nights and Autumn days I have weathered, I have listened to laughter and heard choirs voices sing in praise of the Lord and his ways. I have seen the seasons come and go watched the farmer sow his seeds and seen the crops grow.

Now I am trapped within this house yet I really do not mind I have been a watcher of life seen the generations, children, family ,

photo credits google images

auntie, uncle, grandma husband, wife . So as you gather round me for your chat over coffee in your kitchens, in your houses or your flats. Underneath me children and dogs on me books food shopping and cats.

Treat me right and I shall last into your future from your past. I always have such tales to tell I have been with you through heaven and hell! So treat me wrong or treat me right I shall just sit here and watch you day and night!!

Child Abuse Awareness Month.

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.

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 , true.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 a man, 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 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 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 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. 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.

I have to stop writing now , but I promise I shall not stop shouting out because I have just started now.

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