Literature, Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Writing

Phoenix : part one

Little bird

Flying free

Didn’t know what she should be

Flittered and fluttered

Landed and played

Found fellow fledglings

But all of them fade

Cold and alone

She struggled to feed

To try and stay warm

She snuggled in trees

Without fellow feather

She couldn’t survive

The freezing cold weather

Drew out her life

Her body was still

The light in her wanes

A single sparks will

In her beady eye stayed…

Literature, Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Writing

Son

Restful now.

I watch you sleep

Your dreams

Inside your mind I would peep.

To See

To know

To understand

To be the parent I’d always planned.

I would teach

I would know

Be the one to help you grow

Your mind can be a mystery

To all of us around

In seeing its simplicity

Never lost

Still found.

My son was diagnosed with autism in 2011. Nothing in my life is more rewarding than him. It’s hard, he is 9 and I have never had a real conversation with him. We tiptoe through the world of communication using skills and ways we have been taught. We are getting better all the time at communicating with each other. It’s become another level of existence and it’s a wonderful place to be.

Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Writing

Dad

He watched me from the doorway

I am surrounded by his protective gaze

a smile appearing on his face

I run to feel his warm embrace

big hands

strong arms

holding tight

I breathe him in with delight

oil and steel

familiar feel

to have you fill that place once more

to see you at the door

would be a dream come true.

Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Writing

Still – written for #writephoto challenge

Thanks for the opportunity to take part of in the #writephoto challenge.

The vines climb

And over time

Cling to glass

Holding tight

This is her window

Her view on the world

She watches the roses bloom and fade

Bloom and fade

She is happy here

Her view is sweet

And

Still.

Literature, Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Writing

The Smile

Like a drug I can’t possibly OD on

It makes me still

It makes me calm

It makes me warm

Your smile

It doesn’t need a prescription

And I am happy with my addiction

All I need (except for weed 😜)

Is to see your smile

Just for a while

(For Jacko.. you are the love of my life 💕)

Literature, Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Writing

Second Hand Friend.

You didn’t tell me I was your second hand friend, used by you.

You always wanted your own way.

You always got your own way

Or I wouldn’t be able to get you to stay.

Excited to be included

Invites often eluded her

So excited to have someone

So excited to be someone.

You didn’t tell me

that’s why we were there

You wanted your fun,

To meet the one.

It didn’t matter that I got broken beyond repair.

You didn’t care.

Excited to be included

Invites often eluded her

So excited to have someone

So excited to be someone.

I had that pain in heart

Carried it with me

It tore me apart

Never understanding what had broken me

Because a friend wouldn’t have done that to friend.

But a second hand friend, they can be used.

Literature, Personal Blog, Poems, poetry, Self Awareness, Uncategorized, Writing

The cat.

The garden at the house I grew up in was big. My mum worked hard to make it pretty, we had a vegetable patch, a rockery. I had a swing and a Wendy House. I suppose it would be considered idyllic, really.

We always had dogs, there was a kennel in the garden where our Alsatian stayed and we also had a cat.

This is my earliest memory.. I have since learned that I was only 2 years old at the time but I remember being on the swing.. I can see my legs swinging out in front of me and I swing up and back, up and back, the sun glinting on the buckles if my shoes, the birds singing.. the fence between our garden and our neighbours wasn’t low but as I swung I could see over in to their garden.

There was a thrashing and squealing sound coming from the bush in their garden.. I swung up I could see the bush shaking.. I swung up and I saw our cat struggling in the bush.. I swung up.. still thrashing about.. and that’s all I remember. My mum filled in the blanks.. our cats collar had gotten caught up in the bush and it got strangled. I stuttered from that day on.. could barely speak, my mum said, she took me to the doctors and got me help but I struggled to speak for the next two years.

So that is my first memory. I wonder how much of an effect it had on me as I grew up. I believe it certainly contributed to my anxiety in some way, my fear of losing things and people and my love of animals.