Saturday, 13 September 2014

When you give me the end of summer


















I tried,

I really did

to wear sky scraper heels

while on vacation.

For me, they didn't work.

Back to my mousey pumps.

I wanted to look glamorous as

NYC fashion week blazed

from the windows

all around me.

Women,

pencil thin

and bright burning cigarettes dangling

from the corner of their

lipstick stained lips

had  a world weary look in their eyes.

This is what must be like
living in a concrete jungle all the time
I thought.

Never seeing the ocean or

feeling the rush of the sea in your veins.


I walked,

oh I walked.

Through Central Park on and on

where the old men play chess

and little boy boats bob on the lake.


I wandered up the steps of The Met

and refused to pay 30 bucks to see famous paintings .

Art should be free.

I tried to ground myself

oh I tried, but without you the effort seemed futile.

It was too much.

So I danced inside my heart

and

gave

myself

to

the moon

instead

knowing

you

were

sleeping

under

it

too





Wednesday, 10 September 2014

Summer's sad song





Summer,

don't  sing your sad song

of leaving.

I don't want to hear

those chords just yet.

My face looks up to the September sun,

soaking in it's warmth

and memories of

the days just gone.

My youngest son's wedding,

sunrises and sunsets

that took the breath from my mouth.

Hot summer streets

ice cream cones

and sticky cotton candy.

Laughter carried away

by ocean mermaids

in their purses made from silk.

Down, down  they swim,

to the sandy bed

at the bottom of the sea

where they unfold my dreams .

This heart ,

wanting wanting all the time

needs

afternoon strolls

armfuls of flowers

my bike,

and

no sad song from summer

as

she

leaves


Sunday, 24 August 2014

Fill the room with silver






When the words fade,

like summer,

there's a melancholy in the veins.

Because what am I without them?

The room fills with silver

and no matter how hard I try,

I can't grasp anything .

The melody of the music is too thin.

August it seemed,

pulled down all the notes from the trees in

one fell swoop.

I keep telling myself

the piano,

is

not

firewood

yet.




Sunday, 10 August 2014

If



After all this is over

when we have found each other

once more

we will rejoice.

We will look ,

we will see the love

in our eyes

and know~

that not one teardrop

was wasted.

We will take the sadness

and breathe it back

as

love

and

hope ~

If.





This, for my darling husband who has bipolar disorder
and has been chronically ill for three weeks
( but was a little better yesterday :)




Sunday, 27 July 2014

To call







All I've been able to do this week

is get up,

and go through the motions

of each day.

I'm struggling to find the words,

even here.

When they usually drop ~

like honey from a spoon.

Suffice to say that it's been

a horrendous week,

and for privacy's sake  I'll say no more on the matter.

Then God steps up to the plate,

and does what He does everyday ~

strips away those feelings of

being totally alone

and sends someone dependable

across your path.

When that person says *call me,*

and you know you will because they really mean it.

So you weave through the hours

and the moon seems beautiful again

because someone

told

you

to

call


Sunday, 20 July 2014

To soar







Life ,

affecting me

with so many emotions this week,

they weaken me.

Battling through

( as ever )

I focus on the beauty.

Catching the sunbeams

when they finally arrive ~

indulging my passions

for neon cafe lights

and always striving

for that one perfect photo.

Looking at the houses
on our road
the ones that host
a thousand stories

longing to escape the
concrete
and run to the
ever waiting sea.

If this universe could
give me wings
today
I would
fly
away



Saturday, 12 July 2014

The things that matter





We woke,

went into the garden

to have our coffee.

I imagined I could smell the sea.

Like the heroine in

the book,

Rebecca.



Hastings,
California,

worlds apart

yet filling my senses with the

smell of salt and the memories

I made in these places.


How quickly this life flashes past,
and memories come
out of nowhere,

perhaps just from a word,
that someone said.

Dear readers
do I weary you?
I've deleted three blogs now.


And yet,
I still wish
that you
can smell the sea
with me