S.A.D.

photo at: www.bbc.co.uk/leeds/content/image_galleries/g..

S.A.D.

Boxed in and pressed on all sides.

Shrouded by cloud and padded by double glazing.

Gone is the wide open blue of endless possibility.

I pace and sleep, pace and sleep,

I wait and wait, wait and wait.

suzi

It has rained unrelentlessly all morning the day before I am due to start my walking holiday in The Yorkshire Dales and I have to admit it has dampened my spirits somewhat. The clouds are so low, dark and heavy you can almost feel them smothering you. If only one could take a spear and launch it heavenward to pierce the grey and allow a chink of bright blue to to cascade down and lift one upwards. We know it is there, that is the hope for tomorrow.

What to do when you find a poem you like

image from: http://www.selkiebindery.com/images/gallery/dreamflyblue-obj.gif

What to do when you find a poem you like

Read it again

And write it

Learn it by heart

Recite it

Sing it

Rave it

Paint it on a flag

And wave it

Feed it

Ride it

Climb right down inside it

Fly on its back

For a night and a day

Then pat it and kiss it

And give it away

Adrian Mitchell - don

Sabrina Mahfouz, who I met on an Arvon course ( a very talented and creative person and excellent slam poet) posted this poem on FB. I love it, especially the lines "Climb right down inside it Fly on its back For a night and a day." When a poem touches you intensely, emotionally, you want to spend time with it, cuddled under the duvet just like a good book. You get lost in it and transported away. For days and even weeks it can be there by your side, touching your thoughts, shaping you and changing you.

Mattress

photo E How

Mattress

You lay me down. We acquaint by gradual movements:

a stretch, a curl, a turn, through nights of

restless dreaming. Impressed

I spring to the rhythm of your lovemaking,

taut and in my prime; absorb the whispered secrets

of thrills and emissions.

The cycle of the moon bruises, your musky scent

lingers. Our lives merge undercover in the flickering

shadows of dusk.

There are days when you rarely leave me - sad, lost

hours where you cling to my sides like a frightened child.

Reluctant to wake to nature's chime

you bury your head in me and cry soft tears. You are mine

again. Salt-stained wounds dry with time,

life and laughter return.

Now weak and sagging with years, I cradle your trembling

foetal form, feel your breath rasp,

hesitate and depart.

Suzi

Inspired by Jean Sprackland's 'Mattress'. This one - before the embankment.

Race For Life

Well, this past weekend I finally did it - the Race For Life that is. It's over two months ago now that my friend suggested I do this race in Southampton for the cancer research charity. I jumped at the chance.I have always supported cancer research and I desperately needed to get fitter after a long period of illness. I have been training since then, gradually building up my fitness levels. I used to cross country run at high school and then rowed at Uni where running formed part of my training but since those days have done nothing - that's a lot of years to catch up on. Fortunately it has been a bit like riding a bike, I seemed to have slotted back into it quite quickly and am feeling all the better for it (more about that in another post). Have managed to raise about £200, thanks to my supporters


Southampton hosts one of the larger events. Over 9000 women of all ages, sizes, levels of fitness walking , running and jogging together. On each person's back the name or picture of the person they are running for - some past away, some in remission, some who have won the battle. Very moving experience and one you don't forget easily. Groups of young people, some in fancy dress, mothers and daughters, prams and wheelchairs, all types contributed.


I managed to complete the 5k race in 25 mins, a big achievement for me. Tired at the end but still smiling. Stiff legs now so I know I put the effort in. Well done to everyone who participated and helped raise a fantastic amount of money.

Cinderella

The Day I Met Cinderella

The day I met Cinderella we went shopping.

First we went to the shoe shop.
I just bought sandles but Cinderella bought
tiny golden slippers.

Next we went to the clothes shop.
I bought some jeans but Cinderella bought
a beautiful blue dress.

After that we went to the Gardening Centre.
I bought some flowers but Cinderella bought
a bright orange pumpkin.

When we had lunch Cinderella ran away.
I asked where she was going and she replied,
"It's just too late"

I asked her again the next day.
She was daydreaming and sighed,
"He's just so handsome."

Then I knew where Cinderella had gone.

CN3 Age 8yrs

My daughter loves to copy me. She is fascinated when she sees me scribbling or tapping away on my laptop. She has endless little books of poems, prayers and stories that she leaves all over the house -started but not finished (again like me). This is one of her latest poems that I promised to post for her. Then she will be really like mummy!

Summer Villanelle

This lovely late summer painting from:

http://belladia.typepad.com/bella_dia/i_like_to_make_things/

After that dark and somewhat depressing villanelle of mine yesterday here is an antidote. 'Summer Villanelle' by Wendy Cope is light, breezy and sunny. This is from 'Poem for the Day One'. She wrote on a hot Saturday afternoon instead of going to do a Sainsbury's shop - a woman after my own heart! Read in the garden with a large glass of Pimms and lemonade.

Summer Villanelle

You know exactly what to do -

Your kiss your fingers, on my thigh -

I think of little else but you.

It's bliss to have a lover who,

Touching one shoulder, makes me sigh -

You know exactly what to do.

You make me happy through and through,

The way the sun lights up the sky-

I think of little else but you.

I hardly sleep - an hour or two;

I can't eat much and this is why-

You know exactly what to do.

The movie in my mind is blue -

As June runs into warm July

I think of little else but you.

But is it love? And is it true?

Who cares? This much I can't deny;

You know exactly what to do;

I think of little else but you.

Wendy Cope

The Villain Elle

Image fromLIFE

The Addict

He sits alone amid the mangled sheet,

pale corpse of himself, eyes shot red;

awake for days without the need for sleep.

Awaits the last sharp fix to come and sweep

from him the hell inside his head.

He bleeds alone amid the mangled sheet,

the tracks leave scars and the wounds run deep.

Shoots again the pain that keeps him spread

awake for days without the need for sleep.

He weeps inside the tears he can't secrete.

Syringes, puke and filth surround the bed;

he shits alone amid the mangled sheet.

No friends, no dreams venture down his street,

just endless hours and fear of that dread

awake for days without the need for sleep.

Highs, lows, rushes, shakes - incomplete

snapped life hung by a single thread.

He dies alone amid the mangled sheet,

awake for days but now its time for sleep.

Suzi

My first attempt at a Villanelle or a 'Villain Elle' as Nicky in my writing class calls them (can you guess she's not a fan!). Very tricky, both in following a set form and finding suitable subject matter. Where on earth this came from I do not know - it's not from personal experience. I apologise for the depressing topic, no light little ditty's from me.