Loved

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The first time,
you lay before me as magnificence –

the stars and the moon
were the clothes you wore –
a gift to my blackest of nights.

And while in your arms, I raced with you
through sun and sky, and as the earth
turned only to feel your heartbeat,

 I swear, I trembled when I felt it too.

You had no edges or centre – you
were love, and I trembled.

And I miss you.

 

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Itiswhatitis

Back for a short while after completing what seems like a zillion pendants and zentangle light bottles… don’t ponder… lol.  I have an event this Sunday coming,  then a month of work/rest/restock then some more.  Needed to write so I did.  Garden is great, sun keeps coming – all’s good. Hope you are all well.  I shouldn’t ‘write’ myself off.  I will take it ‘As it Comes’! I can do both.

indiff

Your head feels warm
in my colder arms
as you hold me close,
oblivious, inside my turmoil –

and you speak to me,
only if you’re willing,
otherwise,
go live by yourself.

This fucking honey liqueur,
is too thick to pour,
but somehow it gets me drunk –
does it’s sticky glue create a distance?

Moths fly around me
hurling their abuse,
so please dowse the light –
god, you’re ignorant.

Are we to stay
‘ignited’?
Do we still make a good match?

Since you close your mind,
it is indifference, I feel,

and I wonder aloud
in all of my screams,

and I see the past streaming before me,
till it muddies my glass – it’s all unreal.

What the fuck was it
that we created?

Can we live up to that?
I feel a need.

I sang you songs –
and not inebriated,

I sat on your lap
watching TV.

I thought I belonged,
but was mistaken,

I don’t even belong
to me.

Stuck in the thick of it,
wrangling with these lacy honeyed sleeves,
I’m interrupted by full on indifference;

 it pours from orifices

I thought were mine,
but it is all the stuff that you bleed.

 

Missy

A pick from this time 2 years ago.   I’m still busy doing my thing and making lots of money to help beat cancer sooner.  I smashed last year’s target and I am a third of the way through the one set for 2019.  I will have more faith and raise it!  Next event is this Saturday.  I hope you are all well and gearing up for a wonderful spring and its inspiration! Take care.

As it Comes

Miss.png

Her skin is fair, lightly freckled and starkly
contrasts her ambiguous demeanour.
I always tip my cap, ‘Good day, Miss,’
but she never casts a glance.
I carry on my way, meandering
deep in wild thoughts that are always
honeysuckle, blue grass, rosehips
and my Miss.
The sun beats down on she and us,
but when my Miss smiles, the heavens open
and it pours, dare I say, it rains tears.
My thinking is, it can not compete
with the lovely lady who does not care
if I live or die, because I know us to be just
a part of my wildest dreams –
the place I go to swiftly as I pass
the dingy, rusted via duct
on my way to work –
I pass that way often, my dreams,
so as not to be seduced by the muggy
waters of brown stench lying along my trail.
Deep down, I think…

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Song for a Bluebird

I’m starting another year fundraising for CRUK, and painting my socks off again for my first event on 23rd February.  Sorry I haven’t been able to get around to your blogs and good works yet.  I hope you all have a lovely Valentine’s day,  loving one another, and many others.  Be kind and careful.   Here are some of my hearts for you from last year’s painting spree.  Take care.

Dedicating this old chestnut on Valentine’s day to my lovely husband, Jay.  Love you.

Walk me to the end
of love – let us be love.

Fold me where the
seams are stitched,

edges brought closer
till there is no end.

Play me till the piano
aches, when drifting sighs

start dancing, and crooning
violins stop playing.

Lift me like a hope
seeking light from dust,

hold me with your beauty
like a soul on fire –

let me be the risk you take,
dance me to the edge

then wait with me until the end
of love, let us be love.

Ketley #A short story.

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Ketley was a burly man, and because of our differences over the years, he and I stood at the end of that aching pole; his muscled arms were bent on pulling in that monster.  He often snarled mid heave.  I was sure, at times, he would have loved the head on that line to have been mine.  I may have been wrong, but I had chills that morning on the river; strong notions, dare I say it, that I couldn’t cast aside.

He froze my core with his backward glances as he caught me reminiscing.  I knew how wrong, but at the same time, how tantalising my dalliances had been with his shapely fair-haired, sassy woman, whom I did love with all my heart.

Had I been altogether spoiled for choices, I could have kept her, instead of being plainly faced with death’s place underground.  So, I kissed her farewell and braced myself for the wrath of Ketley, but why we had to meet here of all places was, and was not, a curiosity to me.

His sights were held firmly on that there bleak as hell’s charmed water and god knows what he thought was underneath it all.

“Give me that small hook, will you?” He growled at me with a threatened animal growl, with that low noise in its throat – usually, it meant it was angry.  He looked at me hard, and that always made me go cold.

What he called a small hook could have suspended a small calf.  The cold steel was sharp and grey,  and it looked like it could pierce three men at a time – and I was just one.  Still, I had trusted him all of my life, and I didn’t necessarily want to stop now.  Also, I had an escape planned.

I handed the hook to him as I recoiled involuntarily, and at the same time, I watched my sweat be flung into the Four Corners of a god-awful night’s sea swell.  He swung the steely crook over the boat’s edge and it soon took hold of the hellish, glistening creature he had managed to draw alongside us.  It was magnificent. It was huge. It could have been the devil.  I’d never seen a catch that size.  Heh, in my mind, he should have rode off majestically then and there on that critter!

But instead, he started talking, and not in the angry voice I’d anticipated for most of the night; he was too watchful of the water, and seemingly, any possible onlookers.  I sat back away from him just in case.  He seemed calm and collected as he (just like that) asked me if I felt confident enough to run his livery, and that he ‘knew for damn sure’ I could take care of his wife.  But what about his three kids?

I stammered for quite a while, both inside and out – the words just would not come.  My mouth?  Well, that giant fish from hell was looking mighty interested in its large space as my jaw got wider and wider.   Despite the abundance of torrid sea water, my mouth just plain dried.

“Just as I thought.”  His creased to bust eyebrows all of a sudden burst.  He savagely continued with,  “Thinkin’ with yer groin, but with actions of a jellyfish.  So, yeah, meet yer maker, squirt!|

Plunging into the freezing dark perdition of my predicament, I felt a hitherto calming warmth, as if hell froze for me all that was bad.  Ketley saw wrongdoing and acted… and  I, at the time, only saw curvaceous smiles, fear, her desperation and a hallelujah heaven awaitin’, and so, I indeed acted.  But who was right?

By now that great creature of a fish was as damn inconsequential as one might get.  And me?  I was a goner, but also didn’t altogether mightily care two hoots.  Ketley went home, she froze as she always did and turned for warmth to another, who soon joined me in purgatory for cosy chats and fishing and good times.  I knew just by commons sense, she would soon be joining me.

 

 

 

Tone

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With every sound
and each word uttered
there is pause,

a silence,
as if waiting for the touch
of a lover – distant still,
but out there.

Until such time,
words float as poetry
until caught and lightly wrought
on cool staves,

and as they stir,
no tone is forced, harsh
and breathy –

they wait and would wait
forever –
as every song, like love,
is incomplete
until it hears its own echo.