Game

It’s curious I ponder

How I never got to be a child 

I enjoyed school

The boundaries and rules

They made sense

Beginning, middle, end

Like a story 

Then life got messy

There was no master plan

Just scraps of doggone memories 

Stapled together and opened up

On my lap, like a map 

I do not understand why

I threw away my plant 

It was a gift and a promise

You might as well live

For a while I did just that 

But it takes courage to keep on going further

And sometimes that escapes me 

Perhaps I have to learn to avoid the spotlight

To be happy under the gentle 

Glow of my candles 

Like healing my soul

Creating my own traditions 

Which tomorrow might feel like a fable

Real and not a game.

For Shay's Word Garden 

April

April turns its hands again 

More light to throw upon the day

Bluer skies

More space and time to fill

Perhaps that is why 

It can appear so cruel 

The sense of time passing

But not feeling a part of it 

Life is pretty much the same 

Whatever the season 

But I do like the fact that even 

When I am not a part of it the world still turns

Soon it will be strawberries and cream

Sat at high table 

Cutlery shining like silver

Lucky pennies

Laid out before me

Tea served from a ceramic pot

All these little markers of life and time 

Rushing forward on the outside

Slow inside 

Things I would like to last forever 

Things I am glad have gone 

Is it a cruel month

No crueller than any other 

But there are always moments of light 

And the ability to make things better

Even just a little.

Salt Water

I dream of dipping my toes 

In the salty water

The breeze of the waves

Caressing my face 

The joy of movement 

To be outside

As it is I open the window

Feel the turn of seasons 

Changing on my skin

For the first night 

In many years

I slept but did not dream 

It just felt safe

Like the sea itself 

Wishing me to breathe

In and out

In and out

To stay awake in the day

Sleep in the night

Easy really, but so difficult 

To achieve 

There is not much in the middle

That’s why I do it

Take too many pills and potions 

Alice knows how dangerous that can be

How if you get too big

You cannot fit

And too small

You cannot reach the antidote 

Water is healing 

Even just a warm shower

One day I will reach the shoreline again

A dream that must surely come true.

My Dear

My dear, I wanted to tell you

Send out a letter 

On a ribbon

Carefully tied around

The leg of a golden bird

One that could weather

The worst of storms

One that would finish the job

Take my thoughts to Paris 

And beyond

But how stuck I have become

In these muddy narrow streets

And in my shell of dreams 

If I hold the shell to my ear

I hear the ocean lapping

In and out

Teaching me how to be

Not quite the time to reach the end

A time to carefully wrap

A blue sable scarf around my neck

That there can be life

Whether bitter or artistic 

The sky circles above me

In the day it is blue 

At night thick, sweet and buttery 

Like treacle

How life is sometimes good 

Sometimes difficult 

And what, my dear, did I so want to tell you

That I love you of course

But most of all I am learning

That the letter is to teach me how to love myself.

For Shay’s Word Garden

Reply

 

What’s your favourite drink, asks Alice 

Quite languidly

I want to say vanilla milk

I also want to make her happy

And so I reply

Well, tea of course 

She claps her hands with glee

And spins on the kitchen floor

On tippy-toes

I like that she will hum and keep

Herself busy but is always there

Keeping me adventuring

I still haven’t come up with all the answers

But like letters in the post

Replies are either lost or sent to another place

It will make me smile 

When the message is in my hands

And perhaps that is the golden key

That one that opens me up

To the treasure chest of my heart 

The protective side of my thinking 

No matter the reply and whenever it arrives

I know that after the wait

And full of anticipation 

It will make me feel human -

And one with heart and feelings. 

Equinox

Are we in the middle of the year already

How quickly time ticks on

The days are lighter than before

The birds in the tree

More quick with their music

A spring time joy

Arising out of a fairly nondescript winter

Perhaps I will celebrate 

Collect pebbles and twigs and wild flowers

Store them on the shelves back home

Although it’s always disappointing 

Bringing the outdoors in

Sometimes I will take them back

To be turned into birds nests

Or mulched under feet again

Making a thicker soil

Perhaps I will watch the sun turn circles 

More likely a quiet and reverent 

I will thank not only the sum but the moon

Thank you for another year

More time to scribble 

More time to try and be ‘well’ again

If I ever was 

At that moment the sun flushes my face

And I want to say thank you to both sides of the coin 

Content to know the world is always turning.

Baby Beautiful

I have never handled

A sleepy baby

Perhaps the warm curls around

Their head would smell like warm bread

Freshly baked and doughy inside

Their cheeks tactile and ears a little pink

I have no memory 

Find it hard to find things

That will lead to new memory

Looking around at dusk

For something more

Walking like a zombie, or robot

The insects fly around my ears 

Perhaps their trips are as pointless and crazy as mine

Scouring boxes

Looking for files 

Who am I?

And so I will wait until the

Green fruit ripens

 When I can re-discover that beauty

Is wrapped up safe inside

Just as it always been.

For Shay’s Word Garden

Misunderstood

When I was angry I used to shout 

And hammer doors and windows

Trying to get out 

I had to shout because nobody listened

Took the time to understand me

Lock the door

Dish out pills

Put her into bed

It feels as if the misunderstandings have stopped

Now I deal with the world on my own terms

That involves avoiding people

Especially ones who hurt me

I like what I have now

I am still trying to understand myself 

There is much to unpick and stitch back together 

But there is a contented peace in the silent workings

Perhaps it is good that things are not static 

That we shift and change

Alter the misconceptions of ourselves disintegrates 

It is ironic that now I don’t shout

My voice is louder

And some people listen 

Perhaps it is good to be different 

Perhaps the only person who needs to understand you -

Is you.

Beauty

Sometimes it is hard to find beauty

Perhaps it is in having the freedom 

To spill letters onto a page

Like confetti - a union of body and mind

Somedays you have to search hard

Others, beauty finds its way into your soul

The robins on the tree

The night sky

And the peach fuzz sunrise peeping 

Through the bathroom window

Perhaps beauty is no longer being in pain

No longer measuring success in self-damage 

The photographs and records

All of which now deleted

My journey moving forward 

I do look at my body now

It is battle-worn but mine 

A miracle that it is still holding up 

A small beauty that I can now take care of it

I enjoy my books and quiet mornings

My exchanges with friends 

A walk here and there

Nowhere special - just outside

It is also nice to travel in my head

To have recovered my imagination 

To be able to breathe, think and be open to love

There really is a lot of beauty 

I just hope my eyes and soul remains open to it.