Liquid Rainbows…

Liquid Rainbows…

A colour-wash of memories tint my brain

A million shades I’d love to recreate

I hold too tight, imagination reined

Convince myself I’m too old, it’s too late

‘Not good enough’, spits out its bitter pill

Expecting me to swallow down dream’s death

I challenge habit’s thinking – time stands still –

Anticipation waits with bated breath…

Yet once I start to paint, I find my flow

My brush an inked extension of my hand

My eyes begin to sparkle with warm glow

As liquid rainbows blend, soft strokes expand

Released in coloured undulating swirl

I sense my creativity unfurl…

Daily Prompt: Unfurl

Folding Out the Light…

Folding Out the Light…

I feel my life is closing in on me

Like origami folding out the light

Forever turning inwards, silently

I sense my shrinking soul fade out of sight…

Depression makes an unrelenting thief

Steals everything but hope time and again

I let it be, held fast by stagnant grief

As soothing tides of tears wash through old pain…

But given time my sun does shine once more

Hard shell of bleakness cast off like a husk

As day by day life feels less like a chore

Bright dawns replace the monochrome of dusk

Till once again I feel life’s vibrant smile

And know I’m whole again – just for a while…

A Grave Reality…


A Grave Reality…

My death once brought me peacefully to rest

Six feet beneath the ground kept safe from harm

Dark fertile soil packed tight across my chest

A covering of leaves to keep me warm

I’ve lain beneath my heavy quilt of green

Tucked up in Mother Earth’s last warm embrace

Till gravestone legend, weathered and worn clean

Shows few marks now on roughened blasted face

I’ve lain here for what feels eternity

My empty sockets staring up in vain

No living soul exists who once knew me

No memory of mortal life remains

As seasons change, I watch each passing year

Whole centuries roll by while I lie here…

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Identity in crisis, I feel lost

Confusion reigns as childhood truths change form

Disintegrate as barriers are crossed

And old horizons, stretched, create new norms

Beliefs I’ve held for years emerge as lies

Distorted falsehoods firmly posed as fact

Still trouble me and need to be revised

To help me hold my mental health intact

But somehow I feel stronger in my soul

Perhaps I’m not as lost as first believed

More wounded needing healing to be whole

Than broken needing fixed – I feel relieved

No longer guilt-fed child who cannot cope

This careworn woman filled with future hope…

Daily Prompt: Precipice


I balance on this precipice of life

Precarious and perilous in pain

While all around me fear whips raw and rife

Adrenaline rush coursing through my veins

I step towards abyss beyond the throng

Sense shadows in the depths begin to rise

Cold tendrils creeping stealthily along

Enveloping my soulless empty cries…

But suddenly I find myself pull free

Awareness amplified through every pore

I shudder at the thought of ending me

Am shocked at how I felt moments before

Collapsing in a pool of heart-wrenched tears

I cry until the darkness disappears…

Daily Prompt: Precipice

Disloyal Daughter?

Sink or Swim…

What hurtful daughter writes such damning words?

Disloyalty grips tight as guilt unfolds

For years my childhood fears remained unheard

Confused unworthy failings stayed untold

Unquestioning complicity required

I grew up thinking I was all to blame

My fault I wasn’t someone more desired

My female gender always cause for shame…

But now my scapegoat days are gone for good

No longer will I carry all that weight

Two generations further than it should

I leave my parents’ needs to their own fate –

Disloyalty cuts both ways, don’t you think?

It’s time I learn to swim before I sink…

I’m not generally keen on automatically blaming the parents for all the faults of the child, but I’m finally having to acknowledge that however disloyal it may feel and however much guilt it generates within me, I have to accept that some of the continued attitudes and actions of my parents have inevitably caused me (and do still cause me) psychological distress.

Years of therapy for depression, studying Psychology as part of my degree, and the experience of being a flawed parent and grandparent myself have all contributed to the growing realisation that perhaps I was not, after all, the reason for any discord within my family, but rather it may be that particular issues within certain individuals in my family have in fact helped cause the discord in me.

It’s actually quite a liberating realisation, even at the age of 53, and writing (and sharing) these poems about how it feels is really helping me process the emotional turmoil I’m experiencing at the moment. So please bear with me through the introspective doom and the gloom, and hopefully normal service will resume shortly 🙂

Daily Prompt: Avid

Beyond the Pale…

As avidly I read to understand

Why always I’ve felt never good enough

I find myself push further than first planned

Beyond the pale to landscapes raw and rough.

I struggle through harsh sentences revealed

Confront the urge to vent a latent rage

Bewildered I revisit wounds unhealed

Old hurts brought back to life across the page.

Deep narcissistic traits exposed and bare

My mother’s selfish game of life displayed

Manipulating facts; unjust, unfair

Invalidating every choice I’ve made…

I’m learning to let go of life-long guilt

As thankfully my world-view starts to tilt…

Daily Prompt: Avid


Fight or Flight

Fight or Flight…

Fear binds me close with suffocating hold

Heart thumping in my chest with echoed beat

Squeezed tight my halting breath grates sharp and cold

My struggling soul enveloped quite complete

Nerves jangling loud like mocking jailor’s keys

My self-made chains pull taut in fresh alarm

Tied up in knots, unable to break free

Imprisoned by my own strait-jacket arms

But life cannot be lived in such a state

Forever trapped in fear and constant fight

I know I must release this death-shroud weight

Stop trying to control with all my might

I need to learn to trust life can be kind

And flee this taunting prison of my mind…

Daily Prompt: Unravel


I try to keep a guiding hand on life

Prevent myself from blindly stumbling through

I minimise all threats of future strife

And wearily defend my cautious view

I draw up plans and carefully adhere

To rules that fairness states should bring success

I try to keep emotionally clear

Hold back potential tidal waves of stress

But sometimes life reminds me that control

Is nothing but illusory at best

However hard I fight to reach my goal

The real world intervenes and thwarts my quest

So sitting here in anguish, head in hands

I feel myself unravel, like my plans…

Daily Prompt: Unravel

Daily Prompt: Pattern

Since I first started blogging three years ago I’ve learned to embrace the joys of the old traditional patterns of constructing poetry.

I’ve learned the art of counting minimal syllables in haiku (5-7-5) regardless of where the stresses lay and without the requirement of rhyme. Ideally, the first and second lines together make a complete sentence, as do the second and third lines together, and the first and third lines should give some sense of opposing meaning. That’s no mean feat to fit into 17 short syllables!

I’ve also discovered the endless fun to be found in grouping together triple (and double) multiples of threes in a light-hearted limerick, with the stress on every third syllable (da-da-DA-da-da-DA-da-da-DA) in five lines of 9-9-6-6-9 syllables following a fixed rhyming pattern of A-A-B-B-A. Smutty and bawdy topics welcomed with suitably naughty sniggers and guffaws.

My latest experiment in poetry, however, is writing within the constraints of ‘iambic pentameter’ inherent in the English sonnet. Although in some ways the simplest of rhythms to use, iambic pentameter can prove quite challenging at times in finding just the right words to create the required flow. ‘Iambic’ describes an unstress/stress (da-DA) and ‘pentameter’ describes five of these iambs in each line (da-DA-da-DA-da-DA-da-DA-da-DA).

So the pattern of stresses here is fixed on every second syllable in a line of ten, with a specfic rhyming pattern set out over fourteen lines in total. These fourteen lines are further broken down into three sets of four lines (quatrains) and then two lines on their own at the end (rhyming couplet) with a rhyming pattern of A-B-A-B, C-D-C-D, E-F-E-F, GG. And for good measure, each section has its own job to do.

The first quatrain sets out the ‘problem’, the second expands on it, the third shows an inexpected turn in proceedings – a ‘volta’, usually introduced with a ‘but’ – and the final rhyming couplet sets out the ‘solution’. I’ve been playing about with using simple ideas to build up some experience with writing sonnets – here’s an example that hopefully shows my love of poetic word patterns, as well as my life-long love of sewing. For me, there’s a similar soothing rhythm to be found in both… 🙂

Make Do and Mend…

My needle pricks through over-stressed ripped seam

Thread follows, undulating in its wake

My fingers deftly working in a dream

Frayed edges dictating which route to take

My making-do-and-mend thrift-driven quest

Soon covers up the worst of fabric’s flaws

Scar visible though stitches do their best

Seam strengthened underneath with lightweight gauze

But now my task takes on creative bent

As thoughtfully I choose a matching trim

Add extra emphasis to new-healed rent

Make beautiful my mending on a whim

And soon again my lovely dress I’ll wear

A band of lace disguising jagged tear…

Daily Prompt: Pattern