Food

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2025/11/friday-writings-205-food-as-ritual.html?sc=1764306350096#c4831988496148809131

Food

Did you have a birthday cake, squeals Alice

Clapping her hands in glee

When I was very small I answer 

But not so much when I was older 

And needed someone to celebrate me

Perhaps that is why we take tea every day

A silent, revolutionary celebration

I am (still) here - that feels enough 

On some days we light candles 

On others we just let the vanilla icing melt on our tongue

Soothing and sweet - like summer

Perhaps, if I had known

I would have made a wish back then 

When I blew my candles out

Now I need to find some magic buried deep inside

Blow out a candle and make my own wishes and luck 

They will be as sweet as cherries and delicious as frosting 

We sit and consider things for a moment 

Perhaps every cup of tea, every slither of food eaten

Is a tiny celebration in itself

I have to feed my body and mind

In order to satiate my hunger to wish and live again.

 

Courage

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2025_11_26_archive.html

Courage

It is difficult to find the courage to change (again)

To find my feet after each time I fall 

To quiet myself after fearless happenings

I wish I could climb a mountain or dip my toes in the ocean

Anything like the electric zap which I need to feel alive

But which I know ultimately destroys me

It is uncomfortable understanding that dilemma

Disappointing that I always sit in the middle of ups and downs  

But I will climb out, wrestle my way back up - I always do

That is what we all need to do perhaps

In time I will understand my patterns - inert to busy, asleep to awake

I hope I will learn to accept them and make them safe 

Windows open for happiness, a bigger view

Not doors locked tightly so I cannot go in or out

I will change my fearlessness of pain 

Into the courage to change, and live well. 

Ten

 https://dversepoets.com/2025/11/25/poetics-123-go/

Ten 

She rests her tiny, baby bird fingers calmly in my hand

Her skin is soft, her bones still growing

Fresh and innocent as a snow drop

Hardy as a winter hare

Some days I can embrace her in return 

She smiles with delight on those days

Mainly, she is just present - as solid as an ageing tree

Always waiting for me to drop if only so she can help me up again

Storybook or real we all need a presence in the world

We sit in silence by the window -

Ten seconds, Ten minutes, Ten hours

Getting through the days

Even after twenty years

The old behaviours are still there

The ones which keep me safe from the outside world

But also deprives me of the simple pleasures that I can create for myself 

I hope in time that I will simply be able to open my front door - and leave 

I would not look back, it would be a journey just for us  

We would entwine fingers, look into each others’ eyes

And run - as if we have been waiting for this escape

For many days too long.

Kinship With The World

Kinship With The World 

At times fields turn into concrete walls

Ones I run at again, and again and again

Leaving little cuts and bruises

Probably the years, then decades, of bigger jumps (and bad falls)

Means I will no longer be able to run anywhere at all pretty soon

The skies are grey, soothing perhaps 

The rain falls on me, I do not feel it - inside or out

Even when it reaches out 

Like a lover seeking a tender kiss

When all I am willing to do is tear and bite flesh  

I can not love - this thought occurs to me as I look in the mirror

How can you love anyone, anything - the very world that is 

If all you can love is this thing - this soul-crushing no-thing and every-thing

It keeps my blood pumping 

My lungs inflating and deflating 

Everything is automatic

Perhaps no longer even wished for

Maybe today I will cry - people understand that language

I do not feel a kinship with them 

I belong in my head quietly slipping under.

Garment

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2025/11/friday-writings-204-most-expensive.html

We invite you to find inspiration in this quote: “The most expensive garment you’ll ever own is your own flesh.”

Garment

I think I have wrecked my very best dress, I say

Looking in the mirror, as if I am Alice

I have not treated my body well for so many years

There are red lines, some fading, some raw

There is black dead tissue and too many scars to count

Not so much a map as a maze

Unravel it and I will always end up lost in the middle

There are days when I can be softer to myself

Rub in vanilla scented cream

Wash the wounds that leak into my new silk pillow

The cream reminds me of picnics and ripe, summer strawberries

The blood I leave behind leaves me numb and exposed.

Alive

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2025_11_19_archive.html

Quite simply, like paring down an apple 

To its core, words keep me alive

They give me freedom and the ability to grow -

As well as allowing me to fall back 

Because words come and go

Brushed and pink outside my window 

Rain pouring down 

Or rainbows after the droplets stop

It really doesn’t matter as long as I can put pencil to paper

Or the clickety-clack of a keyboard 

Letters turning into my own logic

That perhaps a few people understand- Good people 

Sometimes the key strokes create my story into a being 

Telling my story into tangibility  

Sometimes happy

Sometimes sad

Even I don’t know how they they fit 

But every story must start with a single word 

So here I am - letting letters fall from my jumbled brain.

Coax

https://dversepoets.com/2025/11/17/q236-coaxing-is-as-it-does/

Coax

Alice coaxed me out of Wonderland

Now I am free as a bird 

Humming a tune and skipping along

Clattering cups and saucers in the kitchen 

It is hard to live fully above ground

To bring hope, happiness and belonging to an empty table.

What I Love

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2025/11/friday-writings-203-why-i-love-hate.html

I am happy that I woke up this morning 

That I didn’t succumb to my bad wishes 

And that I have another day to live and grow in 

I love that I will walk through leaves and look at the sky today

I love the words that I will read and how it makes me feel 

I celebrate that I survived even though it is hard

I celebrate that I have never knowingly hurt anyone - just myself 

I love the quiet of the early hours and how the sun will rise today 

I love that everyday I get another chance - 

That I am free to live and learn. 

White

 https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2025/11/black-or-white.html#comment-form

White

White is the colour of clouds floating outside my window

Quietly moving, sometimes bringing rain sometimes not

They remind me of marshmallows

Sweet and like a kiss on my tongue  

That makes me feel happy, just for a moment, sometimes longer  

White is the colour of day dreams and lazy days

Or teeth shining after being brushed

Perhaps it is a colour of hope 

A world opening up even though I am inside watching 

I leave the windows open as if they might come inside and sparkle my day

White is the colour of her white pinafore  

Freshly ironed and glowing 

Although I don’t see her as much now

Sometimes white is too bright and I stay away from watching - I understand why

White feels like a marker of hope and renewal 

And I will learn to embrace it as much as I can. 

My November Guest

 

https://dversepoets.com/2025/11/10/prosery-my-november-guest/

My November Guest

When I awoke in November something felt wrong. My body ached. Old demons fought to the surface. I tried to swallow them down but they would not disappear. I closed the curtains. Hid away from the rainy skies. Wrapped myself up warm. Did things I thought would help. Still my head felt like it was on fire. My body charged. Now my face is marked black. People stare. Kind ones ask if I am ok. Yes, I say as if trying to convince myself when really the world is tumbling down. Perhaps I have said goodbye to Alice and that is what I miss. Making my way in the world without her will be difficult. But last night I slept and dreamt. And not yesterday I learned to know the love of bare November days before the coming of the snow. 

I Love The Dark

 https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2025/11/friday-writings-202-what-i-love-about.html

There is nothing nicer than closing your eyes

And knowing the world can no longer harm you

That darkness is a choice, not an inevitable weapon

It is a comfort that the light switch is no longing resting in someone else’s hand

I could open the curtains, start opening my eyes

But the world, my head, feels too busy

Like ants weaving in and out my synapses 

Endlessly working for no good reason

She holds my hand, you will find a reason she says tenderly

Her love and the dark is like a warm hug

My spine feels as if it is crumbling for lack of that

My nails peel off and bleed 

Everything hurts and glows red

We will stay still under a heavy blanket 

Wrap ourselves up - perhaps that is another safety 

One that we have taught ourselves 

Today we will move and eat things we can easily swallow 

We try our best to get by 

With the peace of darkness hopefully we will even learn how to grasp living again.

Kinship

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2025_11_05_archive.html

Kinship

A single ray of sunshine, falling on my face

Makes me feel like I belong

That I should still be here - looking at the skies

And feeling and hearing the leaves drop and crumble

Ready to create rich summer grounds again and again

Maybe I will be here to enjoy the colours and breeze

Maybe I will be gone 

For one tiny moment the world sustained me 

Gave me a reason to breathe and smile 

It feels like logic and reason are slipping from my fingers

Like hot butter from long ago eaten toast

There was someone with me

I cannot even remember her today

Perhaps to feel like I belong I need to know myself a little more 

Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow, Little Cricket

As I watch her in the trees skipping and singing

A distant dream and memory - my kinship.