For what we yearn.

However you mark it,
However you dissect,
It’s about marking the changes,
And how we connect.
It’s how we track memories,
And lessons to learn,
It’s understanding our hearts,
And for what we yearn.

Another day.

Today’s words to be saved,
For another time.
They are far too potent,
To be released in to rhyme.
I know, and that’s what matters.
I know.  I can see.
Another day, I’ll go there.
Another time, they’ll be set free.

This stubborn groove.

I feel a need to shift,
To shuffle, to plan,
To move this around,
To do what I can.
I need that next step,
I need a lifeline of hope.
It’s what keeps me buoyant.
It helps me to cope.
I need to shift,
To shuffle, to move.
I need to wax,
This stubborn groove.

Riding out.

I know when my strings are pulled.
I know you need the lift,
But the tugging tends to tear, rip,
And there’s nothing left to gift.
I cannot deliver what you want,
Perhaps not what you need,
I have my own heart to take care of,
My own soul to feed.
I will do my best, in honesty,
But I don’t think you’ll think it enough.
I am riding out this journey,
But you need to know it will be tough.

To fate.

I cannot always jump to your mood,
Cannot always soothe or fix.
I have other hearts to tend to,
There are more things in the mix.
The chip you choose to carry,
Can be too heavy a weight.
There are times I desperately need to breathe,
And I must leave the results to fate.

Your blood.

Better than expected,
Means gratitude and thanks.
Still I long for home,
And the shoring up of banks.
The efforts that you make,
To make a journey smooth,
Can put you in a place,
Where it feels hard to move,
With any ease or freedom,
But they’re for the greater good.
Sometimes the things you do,
You do purely for your blood.

You will.

As the thing that you are greatful for,
Quietly slips away,
And the thing that fear,
Starts to head your way,
Hold on to the memories,
Hold on to tomorrow’s hope.
You WILL manage this.
You WILL cope.

And all after.

Some days are for dreaming.
This may not be that day.
Some days are for surviving,
Making memories that way.
All days are for remembering,
That we have our own worth.
Whether you see it today, or not,
Someone saw it at your birth.
Some days are for others,
Some days are just for you.
Whatever this day brings,
Tomorrow’s day, and all after,
Are days that start anew.

Near.

There will never be perfect,
Never the dream,
But I will keep on this journey.
I will send out a beam.
I’ll be the lighthouse,
And the port in the storm.
I will be what it takes.
I will take any form.
It will never be perfect.
There will always be fear,
But she will feel that I tried,
And when she called I was near.

Cope.

I have no place to belong right now,
Except by her side.
This life has sent me spinning,
And so I chose to hide.
I see glimpses of a stable,
I see glimpses of a home.
I have no trust to give though,
And so my soul will roam.
I can sense something stirring.
I want to give her hope.
I want her to be free to fly.
I just need to move past cope.

If only life.

Are all my efforts futile?
Is it here, no matter the work?
Do things wait in the darkness?
Though I try hard, will they still lurk?
Will they still appear when I relax,
When I start to enjoy the good?
I want to enjoy these moments.
Oh if only, life, I could.

Stand.

Life keeps teaching lessons.
Today’s was loud and clear.
You may rely on someone once,
And you may hold them dear,
But there’s no guarantee for tomorrow,
They may walk a different road.
This reality may wind you,
And the sense of loneliness goad,
But you always have your self,
And others may lend a hand.
You have to make your own way,
Even if they help you stand.

Another door.

When what you did for you starts slipping,
When you always come in last.
You have to think about the future,
And not about what’s past.
You have to decide what’s best for you now,
Not what was best before.
But always keep an eye out.
You might soon need another door.  

What’s left.

Whatever trust that was there? It’s gone.
For good and, I think, for all.
My insides are singed.
I cannot let these barriers fall.
Don’t judge me for my reticence.
Don’t chastise me for my fear.
I have been burnt, I’m ashes,
But what is left of me is here.

How to cope.

It’s when you’re not looking,
When your focus is taken,
That these things happen,
And leave you shaken.
It’s when you’re riding,
On another wave,
That the rug is whipped from your feet,
And you’ve a path to pave.
Should I feel guilty,
That I slid in to hope,
Or should I be glad,
That I know how to cope?

Your locus.

Breathe, breathe,
Shuffle things round.
Breathe, breathe,
Follow the sound,
Of your heart finely beating,
Your rhythm, your drum.
This is what you asked for,
And tougher times are to come.
Breathe, breathe,
Shut them out, focus.
Breathe, breathe,
And you’ll find your locus.

Be kind to the givers.

Not enough,
Hours in the day,
Not enough,
Bits left to play.
I am feeling each pull.
I am trying to stretch.
I am going without sleep.
At times am a wretch.
I am doing my best,
In a time not ideal.
They are judging my choices,
But don’t ask how I feel.
I do long for the peace,
That clarity delivers.
We may not be perfect,
But please be kind to the givers.

Second best.

Patience, love, acceptance,
Is what genders trust.
You will not gain the love,
If you don’t think they’re a must.
I reap my rewards,
From the hours I’ve invested.
You would reap the same,
And you would not then feel bested,
If you chose humility and patience,
Gratefulness and care.
We must always come a second best,
That’s how they know we care.

Drops of fear.

You can’t fully embrace the joy,
When there’s a shadow overhead.
You can have a moment,
But the shadow wants to be fed.
It will ever quick remind you,
That the joy’s not yours to keep.
The gold dust at your feet,
Can be gone with one quick sweep.
This knowledge hangs above you,
It sprinkles drops of fear.  
It sometimes taints my metal,
And stops my view from being clear.

How I feel my wealth.

It’s as though I am literally holding,
My heart in my hands.  
This is the love I feel,
And this is how it stands.
As illness takes over you,
And you fall asleep on me.
I am trapped beneath your weight,
But do not wish to be set free.
I want to be your pillow,
Your blanket and your bed.
I want to be the place,
Where you choose to lay your head.
I want you not to need me,
To quickly return to health,
But the fact that you have chosen me,
Is how I feel my wealth.

When she is older.

Too much in the mind,
Can mean too little done.
Too much on the list,
Can leave no time for fun.
I am listening to her words,
I am hearing what they say.
I am trying my current best,
But must provide by end of day.
Have I got the correct balance?
Is it just the weight she cannot grasp?
Perhaps when she is older,
I’ll be brave enough to ask.

Stomach full

When your stomach is full of bees,
Days pass in a buzzing blur.
Everything that happens,
Is mixed in with the stir.
You long for safe resting,
For the moment you’ll lay your head.
You may sleep for a while.
Some nights you’ll wonder instead.
If you are there, in rumination,
I wish you gentle peace.
I wish you breath of purer air,
And the bees release.

Quiet sleeping poison.

It’s the quiet sleeping poison,
That hits your stomach when it’s stirred.
Your heart, it has not changed,
But their vision will have been blurred.
It’s a terrifying thought,
That a question will always wait.
No matter how pure your heart,
You have no control over your fate.

Why we’re here.

I would have done things differently,
But would it have been as in my mind?
Whilst you are blaming me,
Am I also being unkind.
Would it have been as special as I imagine?
Would something else have sparked a fear?
I would do things differently,
But have a role in why we’re here.

Clique.

I don’t know how to process,
How I feel about today.
I suspect there are many lessons,
And prices I will pay.
I sense it could be addictive,
Perhaps it’s right it stays unique.
There is absolutely something,
About being welcomed into a clique.

A sense of peace.

Some things are harder than they should be.
I am testament to that.
As are so many others.
Yet we still wear our jaunty hat.
We are not ready to lose face.
We are not ready to release.
We want to deliver against our journey,
And find a sense of peace.

By this light.

By this light, I am led.
By this light, I lay my bed.
By this light, I search my soul.
By this light, I set my goal.
By this light, I plan my day,
And so this light becomes my way.
Yet, by this light, I see your face,
And by this heart, I know my place.

How our souls are fed.

Each little step matters,
When you know the journey’s long.
Each little light breaking through,
The darkness, keeps you strong.
Such strange things you will celebrate,
When the days are shrouded grey.
Things that have seemed nothing,
Once upon a day,
Are suddenly the push you need,
To inspire your legs to tread.
This is how our mind works,
And how our souls are fed.

Just cause.

Too many actions feel like distractions.
I am jumping between the deeds.
Yet it is because of necessity.
It’s to try and meet the needs.
I know time could be better placed,
But you need investment to pause.
There will be a point where things shift,
But sometimes you need just cause.

My core.

Your face spoke to my heart.
You were not at a place of ease.
You did not have the light,
Or even a wish to please.
There was something that wasn’t right,
In you. It was clear you were not sure.
Whenever you’re not glowing,
I feel it in my core.  

This unstable ground.

There are some words,
That you feel when you hear.
I felt them today,
As I felt them last year.
It brought a tear to my eye,
And a burn to my heart.
Last year it was an omen.  
Was today a start,
Of a personal journey,
Or just a comforting hug?
Have seeds now been planted,
In the earth that was dug,
Below my feet - this unstable ground.
You have to be lost,
To then be found.

Together.

Being present is the present,
Underneath her Christmas tree.
I am ever conscious of this,
But there’s someone else I need to be.
Love is essential, but does not feed.
Does not house and does not clothe.
I do not like this look on your face,
But your hunger I would loathe.
I hope I achieve true balance,
Tomorrow, if not today.  
I hope you understand, eventually,
And that together we find our way.

In riot.

My mind wants to focus,
On the beauty in each word.
I know there’ll be judgement.
To you, it is absurd.
Your beauty is in other things,
I see that, with respect.
You cannot return the favour,
And so you interject.
With your interjection,
There will be my quiet.
I will walk away,
But my mind will be in riot.

I am trying.

I am trying to breathe,
Breathe on through.
I am trying to hold a line
I am trying to focus,
On the here and now.
And stand firm for what is mine.
I am always, always, trying.
I am ever on the go.
I am ever running,
From what I never wished to know.

Every tell.

We all have our triggers,
Our dark, tender, spots.
As our eyes turn away,
Our minds connect dots.
I have mine.
You have yours.
Some open wounds,
Some close doors.
We cannot ignore them,
Though we might hope.
We must learn to manage.
We must find ways to cope.
I still have my triggers,
But I have mechanisms as well.
You have your triggers,
I see every tell.

Your goal.

It does not mean to me,
Exactly what you intended.
Our experiences are different,
And some things cannot be mended.
It means something to me,
It catches at my soul,
But the outcome is, I think,
One different to your goal.

Entitled.

There something in sharing a feeling,
And a feeling you’re not alone.
Yet knowing you wish better for them,
And it cuts you deep to the bone.
There is something in the peace of distinction,
Being glad that others can’t see.
There is something in knowing,
That regardless, you are entitled to be.

By battle.

Beautiful words are not here today,
My mind is heavy, thick.
I would get lost down a rabbit hole.
Tear walls down, brick by brick.
Today is a day to call to a close.
Today is a day to pass by.
Today is a day to remember,
Some days drag out and some fly.
I do my best, as always.
I do not always get it right,
But I keep on moving, regardless.
This is a war, by battle, by fight.

Finely interwoven.

We say there’s beauty in the simple things,
But is simple what we mean?
Nature is so complex,
However peaceful a scene.
Life is built from intricacies,
From detail, pattern and fight.
It’s all finely interwoven,
And dependent on the light.
Beauty is in the elements,
And in what they then seed.
Intention behind our actions,
Carried through in to our deed.

I call that.

To spend more time with heart aligned,
To the requirements of the day,
Makes time pass in beauty.
I long for that to be the way,
That life could be ongoing.
Autonomy of heart.
It was but a mere few hours,
But I call that a start.

Resolve.

Hope is so delicate, easily damaged.
Held too tightly, it crumbles.
Following lightning, thunder.
The storm behind, it rumbles.
Hope is a gift, a treasure,
Guard it, hold it tight.
Life will test your resolve.
Don’t give it up without a fight.

Run rife.

Does anyone have a day of peace?
I’m curious to know.
Does anyone sail without the waves?
Are we all drowning, but refuse to show?
Is there a way to avoid debris,
When trying to live a life.
The hurdles and the troubles,
They abound, they run rife.

Missing method.

I shouldn’t think.
I should just watch the rain.
My mind,
Will come back here again.
Yet so will my body.
Both are looped on repeat.
I long for the click.  
Can’t accept defeat.
I need that break.
I need that switch.
I am always looking.
The incessant itch.
I have my reason.
The focus is clear.
It’s the method that’s missing.
Without it, there’s fear.

Your space.

The rush, the push. Onward, forward.
Keep going, keep it moving.
Catch your breath, start again.
This is not about proving.
This is about momentum.
This is hoping for some grace.
When that grace’s forthcoming.
Then you’ll have your space.

A visitor.

It’s amazing what you can stand,
With one foot in front of the other.
When you look up one day, and realise,
A truth you hoped not to discover.
The tenacity of the human spirit,
So firm ‘til it’s depleted.
So firm, like my views,
‘Til the day that I was greeted,
With dawn in a different life.
I took a journey I do not remember.
I’ve been passenger, not a driver.
I’m a visitor, not a member.

Almost here.

There is no peace,
No moment of grace,
Just stumbling,
In this painful race.
From one fear to another,
From one challenge to its brother.
I sit here,
Awaiting my next fear.
It’s on the edge,
Almost here.

This painful season.

I’m waiting for you,
Like I always do,
With a lump in my stomach and throat.
I am wishing you well,
I can not face more hell,
No more than already’s been brought.
I am waiting for you,
And only you,
Can fill a hole in my heart.
I am here now for one simple reason.
I am standing in place,
With a lie on my face,
Waiting out this painful season.

Stay mine.

I’m nervous as to what I’ll find.
My thoughts are with your health.
Your health and happiness drive me,
It’s just for them I worry about wealth.
It’s not for me, I don’t need,
Naughty but to know you’re fine.
I would give up most anything,
But that you stay mine.

Silent frown.

Today is a day to be quietly down.
Feel it inside but wear a silent frown.
A day when you know,
It will keep on being grey.
There isn’t a magic potion,
To clear through the way.
This is what it is.
So much not deserved,
But here none the less,
In a life now reserved.

Pressing pause.

When you know it’s coming,
But you had to try.
When you’re worried hope,
Is about to die.
When you feeling like trying,
Is all you do,
But all that sticks,
Is the glue.
That’s today.
That’s where you’ll find my heart.
So I’m pressing on pause,
‘Til I know where to re-start.

Countdown.

How are you,
When you are waiting?
Is it the countdown,
That you’re hating?
Rather get it over,
Even if no field of clover?
I must keep myself busy,
If it’s to rake it’s time.
If I know it’s coming,
Somewhere down the line.
I used to want it over,
I used to want it done,
But it’s different now.  So different.
I don’t know exactly what’s to come.

Honouring people.

Honouring people is a part of me,
That I let people shame away.
It’s who I am, how I was raised.
It’s not a game I play.
It didn’t feel like home today,
But it felt like reconnecting.
I can find my own way through,
Without a need for it dissecting.
I am grateful for the lives they gave.
I think none of this was fair.
I do not believe in war,
But the two do not compare.

Mentally repeat.

Breathe deep and start the countdown,
I mentally repeat.
One step before the other,
Until this day’s complete.
One task, then the next,
Each chore at a time.
At some point in the future,
I’ll have some time that’s mine.

To burn.

I will now fear the what may be,
The what may be due to come.
I have seen how it can all collapse,
Due to someone’s distant drum.
I will second guess decisions,
I will wish I hadn’t acted.
I will wish I had done more,
Or had differently reacted.
I have learned a lesson,
That I did not wish to learn.
People will act in their interest,
And will leave your life to burn.

Eye contact.

Avoiding eye contact is an act,
That says more than words could ever.
Do not fret, I can read,
And will not ask you to endeavour,
To offer up a friendly smile,
A look of care, support.
I have learnt so many things,
That life has sadly taught.

I will not cross barriers erected.
I can read a sign.
All I ask is that you do not try to claim,
Any power over me and mine.

Give me pause.

Be still my heart and leave my stomach.
Do your steady job.
Do not beat upon my chest,
Like an angry mob.
Give me pause, give me breath,
Give me a steady mind.
Give me strength to stand firm,
For who knows what I will find.

Delayed chain reaction.

Keep juggling, keep spinning.
Keep hoping for the best.
Push those nerves and fears down.
Let them take a rest.
Focus on priorities,
But keep plugging away at hope.
Keep your eye on the horizon,
But not afraid to change the scope.
This is how my days go.
Action after action.
My nights are for the thoughts.
The delayed chain reaction.

Barrage.

Those times you want to step off the train?
Those times, for me, are here again.
Life becomes heavy,
When there’s too much to carry,
And it’s as if its chosen me to harry.
There’s no mental space,
No time of pause,
Before another barrage,
At each of my doors.
There’s no peace in the night,
No peace in the day.
But you just keep on moving.
There’s no other way.

To race.

It’s felt like life is one step ahead of me,
Especially these last few days.
It’s starting to leave me behind,
In just the smallest of ways.
I feel I’m continually missing a beat,
Just slightly out of synch.
It’s not all doom and gloom.
I’m not teetering on the brink,
But I hate being misaligned.
It brings a greyness to my days,
And with the clouds already heavy,
It can leave a foggy haze.
I need a day to right myself,
To stop my boat from rocking,
They never seem to reach that goal,
These days I keep on clocking.
I’m not aiming for perfection,
Just a little bit more grace.
I want things to move slowly,
I do not want to race.

The cloud.

The side eye I see says everything.
She speaks without a sound.
She tolerates, she pacifies.
She considers herself bound.
The grey he brings, the cloud,
She had learned to part ignore,
Brushing it from her shoulders,
But still feeling the cold in her core.
She takes her warmth from elsewhere,
Or self stokes her inner fire.
She isn’t sure if she’s bearing a load,
Or making herself a liar.

One and all.

My eyes want to rest,
Because my mind will not.
Riding this rollercoaster,
Through a life that grace forgot.
Those moments,  mere moments, of hope,
Are now blown in to the breeze.
My heart now curls at so much,
That it once took with ease.
There was so much more to cushion,
The blows that inevitably fall,
Now there is no padding,
I feel them one and all.

Climbing.

Some days swing a subtle shift.
This was one of those.
I’m not sure if it’s falling at a different angle,
Or if, today, I rose.
No great journey north,
No great power surge,
But something feels a little different.
Laughter coming as an urge,
In the place,
Where there would have been fear,
Concern and regret.
It’s just something to note, reflect on,
Because I haven’t climbed out yet.

The right floor.

Catching yourself,
And who you’re not.
Or who you don’t want to be.
Catching yourself,
Before it’s too much,
For your heart to see.
Remembering, reminding yourself,
That strength is at the core.
Remember who you are,
And choose the lift to the right floor.

Valuing the moment.

Was that a little sign of hope?
Can I keep this moment’s smile?
Can I hold it close, embrace it?
I know it won’t last a good mile,
But it’s here, it’s now, it’s present,
As I aim to be.
Valuing the moment.
Is that the definition of free?

Nothing to say.

I am quiet because there are no words,
That I can bring to mind,
That would make this any better.
I fear they would make me sound unkind.
I’m focusing on what I can do,
Just the little things, each day.
My mind is taken up with them,
So I have nothing to say.

Seem.

I see the reason behind your decision,
And it makes me think less of you.
You have no place to check my actions.
It is not something you can do.
Your choice to look down on me,
Attemps to control the decisions I make,
Make your claims, your emotions,
Seem a little fake.

No price.

I start with being grateful,
But then there is the twist.
At my core I am still grateful,
But I mourn the things I’ve missed.
I will push on through this life, keep striving,
Fighting the terrors sent our way,
But I do not want this for you.
There is no price that I won’t pay.

A different fork.

Seeing an image of the present,
Of a life I did not lead,
Of a journey that took a different fork,
Was a jab that didn’t quite bleed.
I can still feel the tingle,
I can still feel the nick,
It hit in a way I did not expect,
Cutting me to the quick.
I brushed it off in the moment,
But it’s sitting in the back of my mind.
I’m attempting to be grateful,
And to my heart, be kind.
I had done so well in riding the moment,
Seeking out how I am blessed,
But this was a quick reminder,
That perhaps I should not rest.

The weeds.

When I am down on paper,
It seems there’s so much more.
When I am down on paper,
You would think that I could roar.
I remember her, through a haze.
As a memory she’s fond but distant.
I would let her go, melt away,
But life is more insistent.
It favours someone like her,
Bowing to its needs,
So I must do my best to raise her,
Though she is tangled in these weeds.

Steer.

I don’t know how I’m feeling,
It was an overwhelming day,
In a lost period of life.
I do not know just what to say.
I cannot make things better,
Cannot whisk away the fear.
I have only what I’m giving,
Aboard this boat I do not steer.

Harvest.

Sometimes the nightmares feel more real,
Or at least seem to make more sense.
How quickly lives can change,
And gone, the recompense.
How fast the spiral turns,
And everything can go.
Sometimes what you reap,
Is rot from seeds you did not sow.

A life that humbles.

Something moving, something shifting,
But I’m not in a place to grasp.
I am still here in this life.  
I am secured by this rusty clasp.
Somethings require a measured move.
Loved ones need protecting.
I am tired, forever tired.
This is not what I was expecting.
Still something is moving, something is shifting.
The earth below me rumbles.
I do not know what the outcome will be.
This is a life that humbles.

In the haze.

When life is constant waiting.
When life is wondering when.
When you cannot think of now,
Without thinking back to when.
I am planning for the future,
But with one foot in the haze.
I want a hopeful resolution,
To closure on these days.

Years before.

I sometimes contemplate,
What the girl would think of me.
Would she be compassionate?
Would she see things how I see,
Them and what’s before me,
What I’ve done and choices made.
Would she understand the hard decisions,
And how hearts and nerves get frayed.
She wouldn’t understand motherhood,
Not the way it burns your core.
I know because I was her,
So many years before

That horizon.

This was not the day I expected,
As I tried to keep my fears inside.
I know the moments coming,
I know I cannot hide.
I’m trying not to live by,
The fear of what’s ahead.
I’m trying to live in the now,
And not where I’ll be led.
In essence I just keep on moving.
Trying not to pause, to think.
If the horizon ever looks clearer,
Then I’ll stop to pause and drink.

Ticking clock.

I know the clock is ticking.
I know I’m losing time. 
I know the bell will toll,
And I will face the climb.
I know what I would like,
And I know so well the fear.
I do not want the peeling.
It’s not something I’m ready to hear.  

Mine to keep.

Another day that did not stop,
But it helps stave off the mental rot.
It helps prevent the overthinking,
The worry and the sense of sinking.
It’s a countdown, but if distracted,
I can feel as if I’ve overreacted.
That this isn’t just a waiting game,
Until they release next level pain.
I need tonight to give me sleep,
And dreams as if,
Peace were mine to keep.

Bounties.

My days are shorter,
Than they used to be,
Yet filled with no air.
There’s no space for me.
I could take some back,
It’s in my power,
Whether minutes,
Or a stolen hour,
But this isn’t my time,
This is a swamp to wade.
I need to push on through,
Sink deep my spade.
This time is for grafting,
For not drowning in life.
I can take my time,
When bounties are rife.

Filling gaps

I can not be who you want me to be,
When I am busy filling the gaps.
I cannot put you first,
When I’m still running laps.
I understand why you want it,
But it cannot be my role.
That’s for someone else right now,
Someone closer to whole.

My fleece.

My nature is to graft,
To take it on and push on through.
My nature is to be kind,
Not out myself ahead of you.
My nature is being challenged.
My nature is being tested.
My nature is firing beneath,
When I am not fully rested.
Am I too just too kind, too patient,
Like they would say too much I thought?
Should I stand my ground, be angry,
Like some say I really ought?
Neither way will change things.
Neither way brings me peace.
So I wrap myself in isolation,
And set free my friends, my fleece.

The burr.

As I head home, I feel the air.
I inhale, I start to breathe.
I count down through the moments,
Waiting ‘til I leave.
It doesn’t mean it isn’t pleasant,
I just know things can go wrong.
I do not need anymore nervous energy,
It’s not my chosen song.
I prefer calmer, quieter beauty.
I seek a peace I can enjoy.
The burr that’s in my shoe,
Does more than just annoy.

Break this loose.

I don’t need signs as to how I feel,
But I feel gifted by excuse.
I cannot be direct with it,
But let weather break this loose.
I know in my heart how I feel,
But it’s not my place to sway.
I will do what I have to do,
But love that nature is having a say.

Stomach curls.

A little positive human interaction,
Was all it took to switch up the mood.
A little care from others,
And not allowed to sit and brood.
Then I find I let you down,
And my stomach curls in fear.
You are everything to me.
You are almost all that I hold dear.
My former mood returns.
I want to push thoughts from my mind.
In trying to take care of you,
I end up being unkind.
These lessons I must keep learning,
Always at expense.
What can I do to fix this?
What counts as recompense?

Spark.

When you’ve celebrated a success,
That turned out to be a loss.  
When you seem no longer employable,
Yet you were once the boss.
When life has taken turns,
You never thought it would.
When things go devastatingly wrong,
Even though you have been ‘good’.
Hold your heart,
Deepend the breathing,
Hold your tongue,
Before words start leaving.
This may not be your golden time,
It may seem forever dark,
But look to the joys you have,
And let them be your spark.

Neither, nor.

The dream is there, occasionally
But neither real wish, nor plan.
It would break so many hearts,
And is not something I can,
Justify or truly contemplate.
This life no longer mine to live.
I have a share in this reality,
I can’t take more than I give.

Control to shift.

When something forces you to pause,
And the tiredness seeps in,
That is  when you know,
Some changes must begin.
It’s not in your control to shift completely,
It will have to take its time.
It must be slow and subtle,
And must not cost a dime.
Today, though, is for pausing.
Today, is for resting deep.
Today is for accepting,
That this body and mind needs sleep.

Complete.

If I could make those hours,
Last the length of time,
My heart would be at its best,
And I would honestly be fine.
I wish I could make those hours,
Be who I always am for you,
But the sky is sometimes grey,
And I am calmer in the blue.
If I could have those hours,
Always on repeat,
I would be who I want I be,
And I would be complete.

Wanting forward.

When front and centre is the mix,
Of misfortuneqns gratitude,
You know that a contributing factor,
Is your mood and attitude.
Should I feel hard done by, or grateful?
As I review my spot.
Just where exactly do I sit,
In the scale or have and not?
I wish that things were so much better,
But know they could be so much worse.
So I hang here, swinging,
Wanting forward and not reverse.

Navigate my best.

In amongst this chaos,
I can hear just my own fear.
One that wants to run away,
But yet to always be here.
The two not mutually exclusive,
They’re born of the same desire,
The thing that gets me up in the morning,
And the things that makes me tire.
Here I walk with nerves,
Here I navigate my best.
Then it’s left to fate.
I can only do my best.

Heart on edge.

This is not what I wanted.
This puts my heart on edge.
I want to focus on the important things,
Not balancing on this ledge.
My heart is looking for the linings,
Silver, or even grey.
It’s hoping, but still frightened.
It seems life will always be this way.

My last card.

If you need me,
I will be here, broken.
A shadow has been cast.
If you need me,
I’ll be here,
But I’m not her, of the past.
If you need me,
I’ll do my best.
I always try so hard.
I won’t,
Actively volunteer though,
I’m down to my last card.
I’m running on reserves,
My heart knows,
It isn’t right.
I’m doing the best I can.
I’m trying,
To win this fight.

Tainting wash.

Today I have been judged,
On the smallest of the facts.
It was interesting to see them,
And how their soul reacts.
If this life has taught me anything,
It’s how priorities are key,
And unless they come to challenge,
It will taint but wash off me.

Slipping.

It’s slipping.  It’s clearly slipping.
Can I use my health as an excuse?
Can I play around with reasons,
And hide behind the obtuse,
Phrases I give to others,
As I tiptoe through this phase.
When I pass through the other side,
Will I view this through a haze,
Of sleepless moments silent,
Of daytime moments rushed?
Will I see a heart held strong,
Or a woman crushed?

Craving solitude.

I am craving solitude today,
I am craving a moment’s peace.
An escape, a pause, some time.
A fragment of release.
My mind wants to go it’s own way,
Be free and undisturbed.
Its craving others silence,
So that it can now be heard.
I will not get my solitude today,
I will not get a moment’s pause.
There will be no escape, no time,
Until I close the doors.

In washes.

The joy I felt this morning?
I knew it wouldn’t last.
It can only be transient,
Or a memory from the past.
The worst of all, tonight?
In washes my fears,
And I then make things much worse.
I could shed all the tears.
If this starts a chain reaction,
My mind and heart may break.
I cannot face another thing.
This is already so much to take.

Trust in the progress.

It was my instinct to hold you close,
To draw you within my sphere.
When you are so physically low,
I feel a need to have you near.
I want to be your defender,
To comfort you in your ills.
To shield you from more threats,
To be your valley’s hills.
You needed time to recuperate,
I needed time to regroup.
This will happen again,
Your health is often on a loop.
I questioned my decision yesterday,
Was it for you or more for me?
Seeing you today?
There is truth in the progress I see.

Cover with frost.

If it isn’t one,
It’s another.
My daughter. Mother.
Father? Brother?
Life an onslaught,
That never ends,
Until it does.
It’s why my stomach bends.
My heart pushed faster,
Too fast for it’s good.
On the outside, I stand here,
Solid.  Like wood.
Inside I quiver,
Inside I’m lost.
Inside I’m burning,
And so I cover with frost.

My utmost

This feels like a place in time,
That is something just to wade through.
My focus, as it always is,
Is doing my utmost to protect you.
I’m trying so very hard,
I’m balancing demands,
But so much of this life,
Is pure out of my hands.
I sit here and I hope,
That my best was good enough,
And hope this thing, somehow,
Makes us the better kind of tough.

Blessed to do.

I don’t like the way they treat you,
But I’m not ever there to know.
I’m going off what you say,
And I wasn’t there to see the flow.
I am naturally pre-biased,
I will always lean to you.
It’s the role that you gave me,
And what I’ve been blessed to do.

To the drum.

It’s the realisation,
That fear will never end,
It’s an exhausting, terrifying,
But usual friend.
I want peace of mind,
And it will never come.
No matter how hard,
I walk to the drum.
My heart will always,
Be gripped with fear,
For the love of a child,
I hold more than dear.

Freight.

I can’t carry everyone,
Every day.
I’m broken,
Still finding my way.
I cannot carry all
These loads.
I know seeing the less weighted hurts,
It goads,
But I,
Did not create this weight,
I’m just doing my best,
To move with this freight.

Made of bricks.

Sometimes the exhaustion,
Brings me to tears.
As I feel another kick in the teeth.
I walk with the impression,
I have this handled,
But there is worry not far beneath.
I do all I can,
Consistently,
I am driven to not let us fall,
But it doesn’t stop my disappointment,
That I cannot be perfect,
Be all.
I fear the mistakes,
I accidentally make,
Will cause something that I can’t fix.
Throw in the choices of others,
And this wall
Becomes one made of bricks.

Amidst all else.

A day,
That presented to me some fears,
But I pushed on through,
Ignoring sneers,
Til this,
The point I feel most happy.
I was not good,
I was snappy.
Just in places,
Under strain,
A worried heart,
A tired brain,
Wrapped together,
In love for you.
I hold it together,
Because you are the glue.
I hold it together,
Because you need me to be,
Real love,
Amidst all else you see.

What’s best.

I do not like this state,
Teet ring on fear,
Heart at the gate.
I want to move onl,
From this time,
To keep in moving,
Through this steady climb.
I can feel things snapping,
The tension wires being stressed.
I am feeling every point,
Where I do not know what’s best.

Scary to sad.

This is the moment I hit the wall,
The moment I choose to sleep.
I have to take some time away from it all,
If I want my senses to keep.
How quickly it turns from scary to sad,
And how grateful I am for the change.
Tonight was not the horror I feared,
So I am blessed, but feeling strange.

Your anchor.

I know that something’s wrong,
But I do not yet know what.
I am walking you through the tremors,
Considering all the clues I’ve got
For now I’ll keep on catching,
Each emotion that you throw,
And holding you together,
Til the truth of it begins to show.
I will be the thing you ask for.
I will be your port in this storm.
I will be your anchor,
Still we return to norm.

Our cores.

My day is better when I really listen.
You always tell me something vital.
Life is to be lived with you,
But you are happiest in your recital.
You give your heart completely,
And so choose to limit friends.
You spread joy to all as you breathe,
But know your energy ends,
Unless you have a touchstone,
And life has chosen to make me yours.
We have been truly gifted,
To our very cores.

Charred heart.

This will burn inside me.
This should not be the way.
This is not how,
I’d choose to end a day.
I was drawn into a decision,
By the charring of a heart.
I don’t know how to heal it.
I don’t know where to start.
I wish I’d handled things differently
I wish I wasn’t here,
It hurt more than I expected,
And I did not wipe the slate clear.
I regret your actions.
I also regret mine.
Was this a defining moment?
The answer will show in time.  

Your response.

You will offer what I did not ask.
You will shrug as if it’s nought,
Yet when it comes to the moment,
I am left here fraught.
You make promises you need not.
They end up ones you cannot keep.
When I must meet your promises,
Your response makes me lose sleep.

Holding heads.

Take it moment by moment,
Roll with the punches and curves.
Just run with whatever presents,
Pull what you can from reserves.
Hold on for dear life darling,
Humble yourself where you need.
This is about holding heads above water,
This is about getting freed.

On the morrow.

I always know where my heart is,
But am struggling to place my head.
Perhaps it’s best not to think,
Perhaps it’s best to go to bed.
Perhaps it’s best to let sleep take me,
And start again tomorrow.
Nothing will have changed,
But it may look clearer on the morrow.

No game.

With a list of things still to do,
I do not want to move.
I would prefer to just curl up.
Tiredness stole my groove.
The list of things still to do,
Is calling out my name.
This part of life is serious.
This part is no game.

The pit.

It does not mean what you think it means.
It just means I’m tired.
I’m running out on energy,
I know because I’m wired.
I’m wired til the braking point.
I’m wired until I hit,
The wall that life has built,
To stop me falling down this pit.
It does not mean what you think it means,
So stop holding it against me.
I am too tired to fight your judgments,
When I am trying to treat you gently.

My flaws.

My mind is spinning,
With all
The things to do.
I have the best of intentions,
But I am just shot through.
My mind will not stop spinning,
There is no time to pause,
And this is the time, inevitably,
I can’t help but see my flaws.

No laurels.

The rolling of the eyes,
Was something I did not need.  
You can not question my efforts,
As if I do not bleed.
Each day I keep on pushing,
There are no laurels on which to rest.
Do not dare imply for one moment,
That I am not trying my best.

In rhythm.

When there’s no time to pause for breath,
That’s when I hit a wall.
I lose my patience with the expectation,
That I will do it all.
I do my very best.
I am always trying,
But I cannot do everything,
That would just be lying.
My mind’s the first to suffer,
And then there goes my heart.
They work better in rhythm,
And not when ripped apart.

Private race.

There is always a drive,
Positive or negative.  
This is how I operate,
This is how I find I live.
There is always a purpose,
Short or longer term.
Something I need to strive for,
Something I must earn.
I never just exist.
I am always in a space,
Striving for a goal,
In my own private race.

However erratically.

Running, always running,
To keep afloat, not a step ahead.
Catching needed breaths,
To feed a heart that’s not yet dead.
Heart that keeps on beating,
However erratically or fast.
I need to it o believe in me.
I need it to help me last.



Poetry compilation e-books are now available to purchase here 

As an illusion.

I couldn’t tell you where I am today.
I’ve been riding a confusing wave.
My view of things has been shifting.
I just know I’ll need to be brave.
That’s all I keep remembering,
Amidst the change and confusion.
Hold steadfast to the priorities,
And live life as an illusion.





Poetry compilation e-books are now available to purchase here 

I also.

I will hold the guilt,
Tightly in my heart.
I will feel it whilst together,
And also when apart.
I am trying so very hard here,
Like I tried to explain.
Sometimes I get it wrong,
And that will cause me pain.
Tonight I got it wrong.
I need to take tonight and learn.
My self respect is something,
I also need to earn.

Incisions.

I keep seeing signs,
That I keep brushing aside.
They are pushed to where my feelings,
Are sent to wait, to hide.
I keep nodding at the messages,
Acknowledging they’re there,
But choosing not to process them,
For I can not yet bare,
To form any opinions,
Or make any decisions.
I know that somewhere along the line,
My heart will feel incisions.

Justification and lies.

We all have our spots.
We all have our points.
We all have our triggers,
On life-tender joints.
Don’t rail at mine.
Do not roll your eyes,
When you try and hide yours,
Behind justification and lies.

Something of another.

I had been focused,
On the here and now,
Of how I’m suddenly feeling,
But the thought it could be something,
Has now left me reeling.
I had thought of it as temporary.
I assumed that it would go.
The thought it could be something else,
Is something of another blow.

Your questioning face.

I’m flicking between options.
I’m considering all I see.
I keep looking for other things,
My mind, a busy bee.
My heart it’s still and steadfast.
My heart knows it’s place.
My heart keeps returning,
To your questioning face.

Me and my.

This is something,
I have done to myself.
From the original trigger,
I did not consider my health.
I got swept in the moment,
And how I was feeling,
But the dawning realisation,
Then left me reeling.
I am trying to catch up,
To make my amends,
But me and my happiness,
Are still not quite friends.

Any which way.

As always, these days,
Are not good for me.
I’ll focus on my mistakes,
And dream of being free.
I’ll punish myself,
For not being stronger,
And try to make the gaps between,
Be even longer.
I’ll punish myself,
For not trusting myself.
Any which way,
It’s not good for my health.

I still fret.

It’s not that there can never be,
A time you are not angry,
But it is not yet.
It is not yet.
I know this in my head,
I know this in my heart,
But I still fret.
I still fret.

Plenty splinters.

Today I found myself,
Over the invisible edge.
For energy and enthusiasm,
You would need to dredge.
There is little patience,
But plenty splinters of a heart.
My soul is feeling bruised,
And my willingness torn apart.

Serves two purposes.

The clearance becomes consuming.
It starts to draw you in.
You’re not sure if it is balanced,
As you search for every win.
It is for the best of reasons,
But there might be an easier way.
This one serves two purposes,
And so, for now, this way will stay.

Retreating.

I can feel my body fighting,
Whatever hitched a ride.
I can feel my skin,
Start to burn from the inside.
I can feel the Winter rearing,
It’s defiant head.
At the moment it is winning.
I’ll be retreating to my bed.

Won’t shut.

I am not satisfied,
Don’t be deceived,
But am grateful for,
The good I have received.
I wish that life,
Was not as this,
But do not believe,
In perpetual bliss.
I am hanging on,
Hoping for more,
And hoping the world,
Won’t shut the door.

Give me pause.

The favour that you offer,
Is purely self inspired.
You lay it out like it’s for me,
But it’s what you have desired.
I won’t make a dramatic scene,
Won’t highlight your real cause,
But it’s an eye opening situation,
That has come to give me pause.

To protect.

In caring for others,
I often put myself last.
I’ve made myself a martyr,
Judge friends from the past.
The truth is they don’t,
Know the life I now face.
How I’m finding my way,
Going my own pace.
Doing what is needed,
To protect an innocent heart.
If they can’t undersatnd that,
It’s right we should part.

Every knife.

My heart is blowing amidst the trees,
It’s dipping, rising, flailing.
I’m trying to survive this life.
My gentle soul is ailing.
I know that it has something.
I know it has its share of gold,
But the way that life is treating me,
Has left me somewhat cold.
I’m trying to revive it,
To give it the kiss of life,
But in pushing ever forward,
I feel cut by every knife.

Scattered straws.

One step, two step,
Three and four.
Still trying hard,
And then some more.
Clutching at the scattered straws,
Picking at what I can find.
Trying to retain some hope,
As there will be no peace of mind.

The four winds.

Keep on pushing forward,
That will be my way.
Keep the ball a rolling,
Until we have our day.
Keep the engine ticking over,
And hope the petrol lasts.
Waiting impatiently for the four winds,
Whilst mending sails upon our masts.

Girth.

Where is summer?
My girl, it has left.
It left months ago,
And me bereft.
Some changes in life,
Knock on your door,
Take the wind from your sails,
And leave you on the floor.
They care not for the season,
They care not for your worth,
They happen regardless,
And will long be your girth.

Cold yardstick.

When I reflect on the switches,
That my life has undergone,
This is the largest,
But I must still roll on.
I must keep on trying,
Though there hasn’t yet been a click.
I do not need the judgement,
Of someone else’s cold yardstick.

My personal grief.

I feel a weight from being the one,
Who soothes the emotional woes.  
Made responsible for managing dips,
And ensuring the energy flows.
Where is the time for my own heart,
My own frustrations, my personal grief?
Of course I want to help you feel better,
But sometimes I need some relief.

Naturally.

Too many feelings,
To feel free in just one day.
So many emotions felt,
But nothing I can say.
Exhausting, feeling all,
But saying nowt at all.
This naturally honest person,
Cannot let this barrier fall.

Torn down.

When you fear for someone,
You do not know.
When you want to walk away,
But it will not go.
When you want resolution,
You want to be sure,
But you have no way of contacting,
There’s no immediate cure.
I find myself,
Truly caring,
For someone who,
Has been honestly sharing.
How we long for real,
In this world today.
Yet it is torn down,
So it cannot stay.

Order of importance.

Today, it is all tiredness.
Too much squeezed in to a day.
Unrelenting requirements,
Always have their say.
My body wants to resist.
My mind is half a step behind,
But I know the order of importance,
And my role is to be kind.

Light reflections.

Glimpses, little glimpses.
And reflections of the light.
I will be forever grateful,
But know that things aren’t right.
Life will never be perfect,
And normal is not a hope,
But with the glimpses, with the beauty,
I will always cope.

To continue.

I know where the pain has come from.
I remember old advice.
Pain is something I am used to,
Although it isn’t nice.
Pain makes me tired, short tempered,
Less able to smile and withstand,
The jabs from the every day,
The things so out of hand.
I need to shut myself away,
I need to sleep, to rest,
Just to continue to be a human.  
This is a long way from my best.

Not shrunk.

Life is more complicated for me right now,
And so I’ve sort of disappeared.
Just know my love for you has not shrunk,
It’s just my life has become tiered.
I have my fights to take on.
I have my battles to win.
They are not yours to shoulder,
Even though you’d want to be tagged in.
I love you too much to taint,
The life that you possess.
My love for you means that,
I will clean up my own mess.

All the space.

I have done my duty.
Now I want my time.
Now I want a moment,
That I can honestly call mine.
I met you past the half way line,
I gave up all the space.
Now let me have my moment,
Allow me that much grace.

Raise you.

It’s interesting how so many things,
Change and yet they don’t.
The patterns seem to replay,
I think I’m learning, but I won’t,
Always apply the lessons.
I’m always hoping for the best,
Yet I always fear the worst,
And so I cannot rest,
Upon any kind of laurels.
I cannot lean on anything at all.
I have you to raise up my dear,
And I’m damned if you will fall.

A day so rife.

I forgot to write today.
So tied up with my life.
I forgot to take a moment,
In a day so rife,
With must do’s and my responses,
To the million requests.
I was not truly there for anyone,
But I cannot ignore behests.

Shield us.

Today’s words were far too honest,
And so cannot be shared.
I must shield us from the questions,
And protect the ones that cared.
There may be a time,
When truth may be spoken,
But when fair time has passed,
And we are much less broken.

Hold us.

Whispered words, a plea,
Sent in to the air.
Hold us in a bubble,
Remove the poisoned air.
Let us get through this,
Without any more pain.
Let us weather the storm,
And let light in again.

Weight upon.

There is something in the exhaustion,
Of maintaining a hopeful lie.
I started the day with a glow,
But my soul is now full of sigh.
Life is tiring enough,
If it drives the train foot down,
But when you have to fake it,
Then heavier is your crown.
Your tense and tired shoulders,
Put weight upon your heart.
I can not control the outcome,
And I have fear of a re-start.

The floodgates.

In the moonlit quiet times,
The floodgates start to open.
Thoughts so carefully hidden,
And all those things unspoken,
Start to flow up to the surface,
Raise their persistent head.
They want to be heard,
And not be left unsaid.
They whisper in your ear.
They want to seep in to your dreams.
They will not be silenced forever,
Or at least that’s how it seems.

Keep the wolves.

Today I am a little lost.
Today I am a little more broken,
From all the news I keep receiving,
And all the heartbreak left unspoken.
Tomorrow I hope to find a crumb,
Of bread to lead the way.
‘Til then I fan my fire,
To keep the wolves at bay.

Loved by me.

The news is at my stomach.
I was at a limit with my fear.
I cannot take more rocking,
Of the ships that I hold dear.
Floating safe and stable,
Is how I want to see,
Those vessels that carry souls,
That are loved by me.

Dog day.

I fell back in to dreaming,
In to wishing for something more.
I let myself imagine.
I opened up that door.
I need to shut it quickly.
It’s harder to live that way.
There is a time for everything,
And this is my dog day.

Quite reeling.

The day has flashed on by,
Leaving me quite reeling,
But although I’m a little flustered,
Something positive I’m feeling.
It’s good to keep on moving,
It’s good to not dwell.
If I keep on moving forward,
This might not feel like hell.

A personal sin.

In thinking of the future,
I forgot about today.
That was the old me,
And it has not been my way,
In these more recent times,
Of stress and blessing counting.
I can now feel things piling on.
I can feel the pressure mounting.
So now, right now, is for today,
For this moment I am in.
To lose it fretting, over-planning,
Feels like a personal sin.

Not my game.

There is an impact.
There’s an impact every time.
I am tired, shredded, drained.
Craving time that’s mine.
After every encounter,
I feel a physical shift.
One that’s needs recalibrating,
So I do not let it drift.
I’ve come to accept that it just is.
I do not need to blame.
Regardless of the reasons,
This is not my game.

For that.

Small steps in the every day,
And one day at a time,
That’s how my life is lived right now,
With lemon and with lime.
In the hope of moving forward,
I put down foot, I stand.
Then I move the next one,
And I reach out my hand.
In these times, there will be back steps.
Myself I need to steady.
I can only trust what’s inside,
And for that we’re never ready.  

Reinstates the line.

The countdown has begun.  

I will feel it well this time.  

When each little break of trust, 

Reinstates the line.  

Tomorrow will go too quickly, 

The day beyond too slow.  

I have an omnipresent fear, 

But no reason to say no.  

Sclera.

“What’s the white bit in an eye called?”,
She asks me half asleep.
“It’s called the sclera, darling.
It’s job is to keep,
The rest of the eye protected,
With its tougher outer layer.
It helps the eye keep structure.
It’s job is to care.” 
“What's the blue bit called? She ponders”
“The iris.  The iris controls the light.”
“I’m the iris mum. You’re the white bit.”
“Oh my love, you might be right.”

Ten years ago.

I am reading me, ten years ago.
We are the same but not.
I have lost so many things,
But other things I’ve got.
She was on her journey.
I am stuck on mine.
We both enjoy a sunset,
And a bright moon all a-shine.
We both need deep long breaths,
We both need time to think.
She had more freedom,
And the time to drink,
In the moments that matter,
In the time spent on reflection,
But I have something worth fighting for,
Even if there’s no direction.  

Always sure.

Riding the rollercoaster,
Of emotions in this life.
It’s no longer exciting,
Just tiring.  It feels like strife.
There’s little time to enjoy the monents,
Gifted and truly pure,
But I am scared of the change that’s coming,
Of that I am always sure.

But shiver.

I feel an energy in the air,
Or is it just in me?
Where I feel that something is dawning,
But what, I cannot see.
I can feel the energies,
I can feel the quiver.
I sense arrows being loaded,
And I cannot help but shiver.

How I’m made.

A mood altered.
The peace gone.
A deep breath,
To go on.
It will take time,
For the acid to fade.
I need time,
That’s how I’m made.

Altered soil.

I am hungry for a time,
When I do not have to wonder.
I want to be free to soar,
Without something dragging us under.
When I talk of times long past,
Of myself and what I’ve done,
I remember who she was,
The soul that feels long gone.
The same plant, in altered soil,
Can flower in a new shade.
My core may not have changed,
But there’s different in how I’m displayed.

That certain knack.

The foot in front has faltered,
The one behind has stumbled back.
Life spits out little triggers.
It has that certain knack,
Of giving your head reminders,
Of the things that soon could be.  
Your fears for the future,
Played out for you to see.
The foot in front has faltered,
The one behind did stumble,
But I must keep on pushing forward,
This is not the time to crumble.

Wings.

How the smallest things,
Can shift the mood.
When you’re given hope,
Not a response that’s rude.
A chance to work,
For better things.
Not rivers of cash,
Or Icarus’ wings,
Just moments where,
You can catch your breath,
And enjoy pure smiles,
Before the death.

My burning bow.

This is too many souls to carry,
Too many minds to keep afloat.
The baggage is getting heavier.
I’m afraid it will sink my boat.
I can feel it rocking with the waves,
Tipping with the shock.
My defences are depleted.
I have nothing left with which to block,
Each additional fire,
Across my burning bow.
I need some time to pause.
I cannot do this now.

The conscious one.

I am counting down the hours,
Til the point my eyes can close.
I am counting down the minutes,
Until I can shed these clothes.
I am ready for sleep to take me,
When I get to head that way.
My unconscious mind can take control.
The conscious one has had it’s day.

My name.

Today was not my day.
It did not go my way.
A reminder, scratch by scratch,
Of how this is a match,
A competition, a game,
And they do not know my name.

Only one.

I said too much, revealed too much.
As is my my tendency to do.
I fear I have laid a path,
For the ever dropping shoe.
I am myself, I know myself,
And knows the risks of all that’s to come.
I cannot be on point al days,
I am only one.

A hook.

In these minutes that are mine,
I am looking for a hook.
I am looking for the thing,
That will be my chance, my luck.
I am not afraid of grafting,
I am not afraid of toil and sweat.
I just want a little chance,
At a little bit safer bet.

For me to outlive.

I am not in a place to be comforted.
I do not need support or sad sigh.  
You are not the right people to fix this.
I could not bare somebody to try.
This is for me to progress through.
This is for me to outlive.
You can’t turn up now like a saviour,
When you normally have nothing to give.

My only wealth.

Hope for me,
Wish for me,
As I do for myself.
Living on hope,
As my only wealth.
Hoping it materialises,
Hoping it lasts on.
Hoping things do not fall,
I need help to remain strong.

The math.

They are just signposts,
Markers of your way.
They don’t have the power to dictate,
They don’t have to have a say.
They are but pointers to reflect on,
Your journey and your path.
Even if you see the numbers,
You don’t have to do the math.

This slate.

I cannot fix this, though I may want.
This slate will not wipe clean.
I can not wipe away peoples memories,
What they have heard or what they’ve seen.
I will always want to fix things,
But some things are not mine to mend.
I cannot be your saviour,
But I’m trying to be a friend.

Nothing more to dance.

Ideas are passing through.  
Ones I wish to catch.
I need something to work.
I need a chance to latch.
Slowly chipping away,
At a fighting chance.
It costs a deal to live,
But nothing more to dance.

Fallen lime.

I am learning to honour a moment again,
Because how I know they do not last.
I remember how I’d drink in a moment,
In the easier, carefree, past.
That was before the future,
Became a place that can destroy.
That was before a promise,
Became just an effective ploy.
I have lost the dream,
But I can still enjoy a time.
I do not have lemons for making lemonade,
But I’ll drink in my fallen lime.

Just hope.

Nothing must happen to me now.
My value has climbed a rung.  
My role has gained more prominence,
This parliament’s not hung.
There is no space for question.
There is no time away.
There is now just hope,
I sometimes even pray.

Hold ground.

I am holding my ground,
Though it’s unsteady.
Re-shifting my balance,
Trying to be ready.
Holding back shoulders,
To carry the weight.
All I can do, is hold ground,
And wait.

Pushed the bar.

Trust it to be you,
To put shade over light,
To take something already difficult,
And make it a harder fight.
Any opportunity, you pass along some shame.
As if this is my doing,
As if I own some blame.
You take advantage of my goodness.
You push it way too far.
You started as if trite,
But should not have pushed the bar.

Respect due.

I read your words,
And you are here.
A soul I loved,
So calm and dear.
Never shy to voice your word,
But quietly spoken,
So not always heard.
I always loved you,
Strong and true,
But in hindsight, did you get,
The respect you were due?

Simultaneously stronger.

It was strange to read old feelings.
To be drawn back in to who I was,
And how I felt,
Before my world changed.
Just visiting her, briefly,
Before returning home to me.
This me I am learning to love,
Slowly and not surely.
She is somehow weaker,
And yet simultaneously stronger.
Sees less perhaps, but knows more.

Haven’t wept.

My problem,
Will not be solved in a night.
I must not make it worse,
But must not take flight.
Stand still, and be honest.
Stand still, and accept,
That we all process differently,
And I still haven’t wept.

Shake the recognition.

Sometimes there are glimpses,
Of what this life could be.
It somehow only makes it harder,
To return to the view I see.
Knowledge starts rebuilding,
As do the little fears.
I try to shake the recognition,
And the building up of tears.

Priority race.

It did not take long,
To return to that place,
Where we are last,
In the priority race.
It did not take long,
Still it hits like a bolt,
To return to the place,
Where it’s all my fault.

Strange dice.

Our decisions can make or break us,
But the outcome’s not in our control.
Too many fingers in the pie.
It becomes a risky strange dice roll.
We choose our ‘for the best’,
And hope it proves to be.
At the moment, someone’s winning.
I suspect it isn’t me.

Whisked away.

When there’s no time for you,
In a day that’s whisked away.
There’s temptation to contemplate,
What that has to say.
I was tempted, I’m rejecting.
I can see the gifts I was given.
That sight’s not omnipresent,
But it’s the reason I am driven.

Springboard.

I am a woman, 
Born of the hills, 
Needing the deepest air, 
From the kind of wind that chills.  
I am a woman, 
Who longs for the sky, 
Fed by the expanse, 
As birds pass me by.  
I look to the stars, 
Am entranced by the moon. 
However long the days seem, 
I know they’ll leave me too soon. 
Like generations before, 
My life will, in these winds, blow.  
Passing unremarkable, 
Caught up in the flow.  
I hope, as a mother, 
My heart will pass on down our line, 
May she feel it, springboard from it, 
And live a life that is fine.  

Call this.

I took a moment to stare at the moon,
Round and bold in a sky partly pink.
I want to hold on to these moments of glory,
And not let myself fall or sink.
This time may be hard, may be testing,
But let moments of beauty prevail.
If I stop seeing the small gifts of joy,
That’s when I can call this a fail.

Overwinter.

The sky is pink,
But my heart is blue.
Trust is something,
That no longer feels true.
Life has taken it away,
And left behind a grey array,
Of moments, memories,
Heartfelt splinters.
In the heat of summer,
Truth overwinters.  

Quietly spinning.

My head is quietly spinning,
From what I’m meant to be.
Your expectation is too high.
Please look and you will see.
I am being more than fair.
I am walking my own rope.
My job is not to please you,
It is not to give you hope.
I am not here to always smooth your journey.
I have my life to live.
You are asking far too much,
And more than I have to give.

Spirit of a servant.

I have the spirit of a servant,
And sometimes it does me harm.
I am bubbling inside,
But I put on the face of calm.
I do not tread my own path,
I act as if to please.
I am seldom brave enough to speak my truth.
It does not come with ease.
I would like a simple life.
It is not mine to live.
I lost my power over time,
And have only myself to give.

No contemplation.

Tonight is not a night,
For delving in to thought.
It is a night for sleeping,
Putting aside the things I ought,
To be brave enough to process,
Have my mind ruminate.
No contemplation for me tonight, please.
There’s enough piled on my plate.

They did not earn.

My baby, your place,
Is right here with me.
We are the ones that can truly see,
Deep in to our souls,
To the beating heart,
How terrifying to ever,
Be torn apart.
My heart would break,
My insides would burn.
This is a power,
They did not earn.

Dead ends.

This is how it goes.
This is how it plays.
Life can take sharp turns,
In the most peculiar ways.
Life can take meanders,
That suddenly become bends,
What do you do,
When you find it gifts dead ends?

Kiss your diss.

Today would have been one that bothered me,
In a previous time.
Today, it smarts a little,
But in essence, I am fine.
We all have our own stages.
We make our choices as we go.
This stage is for consolidating.
I don’t need to coat-tail your flow.
You do you, there lady.
I’ve bigger fish to fry.
There’s greater to things to fret on.
I can kiss your diss goodbye.

Honest has left.

I am riding and rolling,
This life of mine.
I am trying my best,
To find a line,
Balanced and considered,
Because honest has left.
I want this life to live on,
I can’t be bereft.

Take by stealth.

When you need to take a moment,
Just a minute for yourself,
Why must it be something,
That you must take by stealth?

I have long needed this moment.
It will not be long enough,
As life is wading off course,
Through the bunkers and the rough.

I needed to take a moment.
Even if it’s not the time.
I need to find my core,
So I can hold the line.

Temporary Queen.

Amidst all the darkness happening,
Amidst all that could go wrong,
There she is, glowing joy,
Lost in her simple song.
Anything I’ve ever done,
Right or wrong or in between,
Is washed clean by the light that she gives out.
I am a temporary queen.

Pause given.

Today was not the day I wanted.  
It was not the day I had hoped and longed for.
It was just the day that was given.
It gave answers and it gave pause.
Just as the night was not what I greedily envisaged,
It has all been of need.
What of tonight?
Please give me the night.

Hanging on.

I have doubts, don’t we all,
That make me want to build a wall.
I feel the need to close ranks and protect.
Anything else, feels like neglect.
I don’t know whether to trust these doubts.
They are quiet, they do not choose to shout.
They are quiet, but still are firmly here,
Hanging around the things I hold dear.
I wish these doubts would go away,
But they seem determined to hang on, to stay.

Then overflow.

There hasn’t been enough time to recover.
It was just a little precious time to refill,
There has been no time to replenish,
Before I have to bend to your will.
The time that is mine, that’s for me,
Is too short, it disappears fast.
I need to reconnect with my peace,
Because I worry it’s draining fast.
I need more time to recover,
To refill, then overflow.
I need to be the person I was,
So very long ago.

Dampen fires.

Once again I missed the boat,
Too tired to take that time,
Those precious empty moments,
That could have become mine.
My body took what was needed.
It tends to ignore desires.
It puts the body to rest,
And tends to dampen fires.

No joy to lend.

I did not embrace the day.  
I wanted it to end.
All my energy worn on it passing,
I had no joy to lend.
As it closed, my spirit lifted.
Was it relief or it is just,
That this cloud is slowly lifting?
In that I have to trust.

Any peace.

I am letting life lead me.
I’m going with the tide.
I’m participating where it calls me,
But mostly I choose to hide.
I choose the peace that I can get.
It’s truly not enough,
But I’ll take any peace that I can get,
When a journey turns out rough.

A mark.

I am grateful for you, every time.
You bring life in to each meeting,
And in these current times,
I know that happiness is fleeting.
It’s why I’m ever grateful,
That you take time to gift a spark.
You are a rock, a touchstone,
And you always leave a mark.

Above me fly.

The boat is slowly moving,
I can feel it drifting.
I don’t know where it’s headed,
But I can feel things shifting.
Only tiny movements,
Not visible to the eye,
But I can feel it still,
As the birds above me fly.
They are passing in their ignorance,
Quick glances as they progress.
I am so very slowly drifting,
But it is not time to press.

That then.

When you see a glimpse,
Of what your future holds,
And you see it will get worse,
As this thing unfolds.  
It stops your heart a moment,
Makes the blood rush to your head,
Puts ants inside your stomach,
And you can’t hear what’s being said.
Take a deep breath, then another one,
Then a deeper one again,
For you cannot stop it happening,
You must just wait until that then.

Place to say.

Is she handling it well,
Or is it all going to pot?
Sometimes I think she can be proud,
But has she really just lost the plot?
Doing her best in circumstances,
She would not have chosen.
Trying to make the best,
Of a life that feels part-frozen.
Is she handling it well?
It depends on the minute, the day,
And truth be told, it really,
Is not my place to say.

Thing to see.

Some days I still hold hope.
I may not believe, but there’s a light.
It’s quivering, shaking,
But there’s something within sight.
They are better days than yesterday’s,
But not the joy they used to be,
Yet any light after darkness,
Is a beautiful thing to see.

Time of fog and smoke.

Knowing there’s so much to do,
But not finding the patience.
Trying to make progress,
In a time that does not make sense.
Trying to find clarity,
In a time of fog and smoke,
All I know is this Momma Bear,
Is not something you should poke.

Time and space.

This is her part hiding.
This is her taking space,
From a life that she must lead,
But sometimes cannot face.
Hers is one of duty,
But one she would not call ‘mine’.
She’s anchoring for others,
Holding to the line.
Clinging on with cramping fingers,
Putting on brave face,
And so sometimes she needs,
A little time and space.

Pressure mounts.

It feels like a turning point.
The smallest one, but something’s there.  
A reminder, an awakening,
A wind blown through the air.
A reminder we’re on unstable ground.
Every action counts.
Holding ground is everything,
When the pressure mounts.

Come what may.

Losing focus,
Then perspective.
Swimming in life,
No time for reflective,
Moments or minutes.
Time moves along,
Come what may.
I didn’t show up yesterday,
But will show up today.

Tame the beast.

Even on the best of days,
It dangles in the air.
I do it to myself,
But it still does not seem fair.
I didn’t have this fear before,
And wish it not to be here now.
I’ve tried to make it go away,
But I truly don’t know how.
I can feel things easing slowly,
But pacing like a snail.
Some days it’s gentle rain,
But some days the sharpest hail.
Today was a good day,
But it can still rear it’s head.
I want to tame the beast,
Because life will keep it fed.

Paying a price.

Today the fault was mine.
I have changed over the years,
I became slightly tainted,
Through their actions and my tears.
I need to unlearn my triggered behaviours,
Need to shake off my need to vent,
Or I will keep paying a price,
And in truth, I’m already spent.  

Not resented.

Today I tried to take it,
Just as it presented.
Today I try to be someone,
Who has not resented.
Today I tried to live,
As honest to the minute,
Experiencing, feeling,
Just as I am in it.
Today I tried.  I mainly succeeded.
It sort of worked,
And it was needed.

Of being.

Just ‘cause I’m grateful for the little things,
Doesn’t mean I can’t be blue.
Why am I not entitled,
When it’s good enough for you?
Yes, your journeys harder,
But you’re the one that took the ride.
I got caught in the backwash,
Of being by your side.
I have worked hard not to dwell on things,
To be grateful for what is there,
To understand your mood swings,
And to do my best in care,
But some days I am tired,
And drawn to a lower place.
Yes, I know it shows in my actions,
And also in my face,
But why am I not entitled?
Why must I always be the strong?
Sometimes I have the tiredness,
From things now being wrong.

Hang on.

I am grateful for the way it ended up.
My thoughts on today.
I’ve become grateful for the little things,
The bigger, no longer my say.
I am grateful for the way it ended up,
Though I would not have chosen this day,
I’m just aware I now need to be grateful,
When anything goes my way.
This isn’t my way, this isn’t my choice.
I’ll take any victory, however small.
I have to hang on to something,
As I give treading water my all.

Tack.

Don’t look to me for more, please.
This is all that I can give.
I have spent enough, lost enough,
Sacrificed the chance to truly live.
Don’t hold against me my limitations,
When you’re the one that broke my back.
I am trying my very best here,
So, please, try a different tack.

Unpolluted air.

When others are involved,
Is when it feels more real.
In routine, and in managing,
I can ignore things I might feel.
When others are involved,
Questions they can pose.
I do not have answers.
I don’t understand the cause.
My mind cannot process.
It does not want to be taken there.
It needs time to clear,
To pause in unpolluted air.

Cross country.

When your time is all for others,
And nothing heads your way.
When you need to be paid,
But all you do is pay.
When you’re tired, but there’s no rest.
When you want to take a break,
But you know you must keep moving,
There’s a life that you must make.
That is when you take a stock,
And wonder if it’s right,
The path that you have chosen,
Is more cross country run than flight.

Worms and insects.

I am undone inside.
Gone are the knots.
Left is the tangle,
Crushed forget-me-nots.
Memories, once treasured,
Tainted and then trampled.
Never was it real,
The dream of which I sampled.
I am undone inside,
The worms and insects play.
I don’t know about this life,
But today is not my day.

Not just me.

Today’s events made me uneasy.
I’m still shivering to my core.
This isn’t what I signed up for,
I expected less, if not more.
I still feel it in my stomach,
The stress, acid, the tension.
All these things happening,
By none that I can mention.
I need some space from this life, this tension.
I need to breathe deeply and just be.
I know it doesn’t work like that,
Because the world is not just me.

Every sinew.

I watch you moon,
In envy of your glow.
I watched you once before,
But little did I know,
That the grief that I was feeling,
Was beauty for it’s just cause,
And that grief would keep on calling,
But for less poetic wars.
I envy you your shine,
Whilst you’re tethered, whilst you’re reined.
How do you retain beauty,
When every sinew of life is strained.

To frost.

When you know it’s just a moment,
And moments never last.  
It never is that long,
Until a moment is the past.
Life will change and change you.
Life will go in ways,
That you never expected.
There may be the darkest of days.
I wish them every happiness.  
The ones I had, and ones I lost.
I wish their hearts remain in fire,
Although my turned to frost.

The wedge.

It is tiring, draining,
Living on this edge.
The longer we are like this,
Further driven is the wedge.
I seemed to hold more positive,
Thoughts in these past times,
Perhaps just better coping,
Or moods turning on dimes,
But I feel I miss them,
Or what let them lift.  
In these times of fear,
They felt like a gift.

Accepting and moving.

Triggered and then angered.
A truly heady mix.
A candle burnt at both ends.
You can longer see the wicks.
So much expectation,
So much disregard.
Accepting and moving past,
Seems suddenly so hard.

This way.

A wish? To not have either,
My tired eyes, or my tired mind.
Why is it that it’s to others,
That I am most kind.
I would tell them not to worry,
That tomorrow’s another day,
But these are not the things,
That I hear my mind say.
Those things are tired for a reason,
They have their thing to say,
I am trying to listen,
But know I’ve always been this way.

Quietly led.

I don’t quite know where to place myself,
Amidst this world that’s shifting.
I’m trying to find something to grasp,
To stop me from just drifting.
There isn’t time to think right now,
But that’s better than to dwell.
Encouraging my mind to mull it through,
Would be no less than hell.
So I’ll go on, not quite knowing,
My place or my goal.
I’ll just keep being me,
Being quietly led by soul.

Rose.

It could be wasted time,
But could just be what I need.
The plant cannot grow,
Without being first the resting seed.
It cannot last forever,
This moment just at pause,
But I felt I needed a moment,
Before I grew my thorns and rose.

It’s right.

Sometimes in your darkest hours,
You start to find yourself.
Your focus is the moment,
The future’s not clear upon that shelf.
There is no use in wondering,
Or preparing for the worst.
Life has been taken from your hands,
Your bubble’s already burst.
You only need to focus on the now,
What’s known and next to come.
You focus on the priority,
And it’s right that she’s the one.

Jarred.

Once again plans fall to the wayside.
Too much to do and not enough time.
Not enough energy,
To make it past the line.
Now it will spill over,
In to another day.
I have the best intentions,
But life gets in the way.
You know what you want to do,
But responsibilities exist.
You want to honour the chance you were given,
After the jarring twist.
Life does not allow for perfect timing.
Random means things can prove hard,
But I want to meet the challenge,
Though my soul was knocked and jarred.

Wayside.

When life is rushing past,
And you have no time to think,
It can burn you out,
But can also save you from the brink.
You have to pick priorities,
And put the other stuff in it’s place.
Life is about the important things,
When it becomes a race.
It helps you make decisions,
You would otherwise not want to make.
You focus on the real,
And by the wayside falls the fake.

Snippets of sun.

When one world crashes,
Another emerges.
Not fully developed,
But driven by urges.
Starting to root,
Even if not flower,
Maybe hiding in shade,
And shivering in shower,
But relaxing, rejoicing,
In snippets of sun.
Feeling like there’s a chance,
A new time has begun.

Make judgements.

This tiredness is controlling,
Withholding all my plans.
I have the best intentions,
But my eye lids will not wait for them.
My eye lids want to close,
And are dictating to my mind,
What my life will be.
They demand to tell me,
What they think of my priorities,
My choices,
And my expectations of myself.
My eyelids have the control,
Right now.
I do not like it,
But they so strongly do not agree with me,
Do not trust my decisions,
That they have taken the keys,
For the evening shift.
So life, and responsibilities,
Will have to wait ‘til morning.
When the eyelids will stutter,
Will ride with a judder,
And make judgements on the new day.

Bind.

A little inspiration,
Can carry me a way.
Caught up in a wave,
I power through the day.
So useful to be lost,
In thoughts of a different kind.
Of promise and of growth,
And not dark ties that bind.

Not by me.

There’d been something rising from the new rhythmn,
But if course it couldn’t last.
The ground is not safe enough below us.
There are heavy feet on glass.
I have tried to live just in the moment,
Milk the joy I get to see,
And although that sure is helping,
Our lives are not controlled by me.

The beyond.

If there’s one thing that this has taught me,
Is that now is all we own.
This moment might be everything.
We don’t know what seeds were sown.
We have no control over others,
Though their actions ripple our pond.
I can only hold you close, my girl,
And fight any threats from the beyond.

My core.

When you’ve stepped out of the immediate fire,
But you’re still singed and it’s still burning,
You want to hide from others.
Some things, you don’t want them learning.
Some things you want to keep,
Away from prying eyes.
The problem is, some of us,
Are not masters of disguise.
Some souls can not do pretense,
We weren’t born, or raised, that way.
I want to always be that person.
I want my core to stay.

Real life game.

When you’ve put in to words,
What you felt that you must say,
But then towards the end,
You want to hold the moment at bay.
You want to go in pretending,
That there isn’t something there.
That your life is just as normal,
Or you do not have a care.
A real life game of, ‘lets pretend’.
Hiding in plain sight.
You want to keep the secret,
But you fear it is not right.

Seep.

I knew that it would turn,
Turn up, and rear it’s head.
I knew that one way or another,
Fears would be placed inside my head.
One way or another,
The feelings would have to spill.
They will still find a way to seep,
When you’re trying to be still.

A point.

Here, in a safe place.
Snuggled and warm.
Precious moments,
Away from the storm,
But my mind is swirling.
My mind will not rest.
I have reached a point,
Where I don’t know what’s best.

The near.

She is lost without it,
Because her only life's within.
There is nothing for her outside.
All she sees is toughened ski.
She sits there in her solitude,
Amongst those who should be dear.
All it shows her heart,
Is that they are just ‘the near’.

Stole.

Can I hide here for eternity?
Can I step off the wheel for now.
I need to catch my breath,
And right now, I don’t know how.
I need to lose the burning,
In my stomach, in my soul.
I cannot place the moment,
Where my life, the devil stole.

The strain.

I never took for granted,
Any of the ‘little things’.
Moments of the mundane,
Gave my heart it's wings.
There is no greater love, my girl,
And would be no greater pain.
I have to pull on strength,
I have to take the strain.
I always knew their value,
Because their mirror yours.
To lose them and you, my girl,
Would be the sound of hell as it roars.

Worn soul.

Life forever odd.
Real life on hold.
Faking the life you lead,
Operating cold.
This is not what life’s supposed to be,
This will wear my soul.
I cannot ever imagine,
Returning to be whole.

Take a moment.

Take a moment for yourself.  Practice some self-care.  Hold yourself in higher regard.  Put on make up, brush your hair.  How is being told, What to do and what to think, Supposed to bring the weary,  From their exhausted brink? There are times for everything, Let her work at a her own pace.   Don’t shame her with your suggestions, Your job’s not to debase.