Monday, 25 July 2016

I'm stressed poem.

I'm stressed.
Pulled taut as a hairband ready to split.
The ability to shake this clutter of thoughts
has vanished with the broken promise to keep shut up.
Shut up were these wishes, in a cupboard where the door's now ajar.
Shut up I have been a time too often here
Within these four walls, where the mould and cold creeps in
not another winter, will I put myself through this.
A coiled spring, rusty with grief
pulled taut now
awaiting relief.

Friday, 8 July 2016


I've had something new on my mind all evening. It's sort of like a seed that's taken root but I'm refusing to water it, as if daring the plant to shrivel and die before it grows anything substantial.

I don't want to feel gleeful over something so difficult. But it's hard not to keep thinking about it. You can want something so badly that everything else seems insignificant and that one dream feels achievable. I just want to feel at peace. My peace has been destroyed so rapidly I'm waiting to wake up and feel normal again. Instead of walking across a tight rope of pent up emotions.

Things like this don't really feel achievable. I'm just kidding myself. Too nice an idea to be realistic. For so long these thoughts have been wispy dreams and I don't think they will ever happen overnight, or for quite some time unfortunately.

God, I'm so unsettled.

I've lost all motivation for anything right now.

Grace poem 08.07.16

Are you there?
It's all falling down around me
just like you said it would
and I am sat here crazy
bottling it all up.
I can't feel you around me
because I don't feel myself
I've lost sense of so much
manuscripts stacked on a shelf.
The Pond has been gone so long
and I miss it, but I miss you even more
sometimes now I forget what it was like
when it was just us.

You know what we've been through
you remember how it feels
to be here all alone
amidst the cold, the fleas, the mould
feeling so cut off, lost in this world
born into a situation, out of our control.
I thought we'd be away by now
you and me and a pen
I fancied us on a train ride, rolling through England
feet in the sea, or a field somewhere.

I had it all worked out
even though plans changed
I knew you didn't like it,
but I did it all anyway.
Everything was just fine
but I remember what you said to me
You said "Give it Time.
It never lasts forever,
we're just not that sort
Things fall down around here,
everything breaks a part
sometimes I think we'll make it,
but that's just a writers heart."

Poem #Back

Sitting once more,
within these four walls
Head in my hands
because I can't stand the anguish
I feel inside, cannot abide
the reality.

Half way to the wall,
to be dragged back inside
a kicking screaming bundle
of half hopes and told you so's
just leave me alone
I have gone back now
to several years ago.

C word #2

It wasn't nothing.
It was something. Something dark and dangerous. I feel so detached, as if viewing a stranger handling the situation from behind a glass pane. If this was one of my own, if I had any feeling what so ever I would know exactly how I would react, what I would say, the action I would take. But thank God it's not one of my own. My dear ones are fine and I feel guilty for the relief I feel because it's not one of them.

I feel like I am a bad person because of the way I am reacting to this news. The way I am feeling.

I cannot help what I think.

The fact is, things are changing, and I cannot abide change like this.

Someone has Cancer and everything is going to change.