Thursday, 19 November 2009

A Silent Scream





The flame never flickers,
And time stands still.
And the dark never brightens,
And the dark never will.
I will write for your silence.
But I will scream on this page,
And I swear on this pen,
That I am louder with age!
Do you recognise my forte?
Do you choke on my pain?
It has taken me this long,
Just to bleed again.
So is this quiet enough?
Or am I writing too loud?
Can you sleep through my tears?
Are you fond of the sound?
I am a burden on strangers.
I am a stranger to you.
I am nothing but shadow.
I am nothing like you!

Who Laughs Last?

Unbalanced and torn, denied and stoned by your absence,
And I admire your pace, you are willing to space the divide.
Un-eased and unsteady, I shiver with fright in your presence.
Crushed and recycled, doubtful and petrified.
Unknowingly branded with the cinders of blame.
As you watch from the distance and revel’ my shame.
Your layers unfold, and truth be told, I prevail.
Captured true colours, my judgement correct,
My pride un-lowered, my stance erect,
Who laughs last, my dear? My honour wails

'Twas The Month Before Christmas





Christmas time is fast approaching and many of us are dusting off our Christmas Trees and decorations and rushing around the shops buying gifts for our loved ones. On Saturday, as I pulled up outside my parents house, a smile swept across my face as my eyes set upon the prettiest frosty blue fairy lights which lit up their window and all those wonderful childhood memories of good tidings flooded my heart.

You may feel it is a little early to be celebrating, but my Dad IS Father Christmas!

From September onwards, my Father suffers terrible insomnia through the excitement of trimming up the house and spoiling his family. He is usually the first in our town to decorate with outstanding displays. Yes...He is the original CHEVVY CHASE! :)

One year, he spent a whole month making a paper mache traditional fireplace, painted and frosted, just like the ones you see in the books, and beside it, in a rocking chair, sat a full-sized Santa Claus. It truely was the most amazing Christmas scene you would ever see. Better that any Santa's Grotto that I visit with my son.

For the three months leading up to Christmas, he watches three Christmas films a night, and my favourite highlight of the year, he sits all the Grandkids down, just like he did to me and my sister when we were children, and reads them the poem 'T'was The Night Before Christmas'.

My parent's house, this year, is as beautiful as ever. Every surface glistens with the season, with tinsel and boubles and snow globes and lamenta. The kitchen is under constant use with pickling vegetables and roasting chestnuts and cake baking. Even the pet cat is strutting around the house wearing a Santa hat.

Their Christmas tree is a stunning 7 foot-er lit up in blue lights - The most beautiful tree in the world!

My Dad's excitement for Christmas is highly contageous. I cannot wait to get the ladder out :)




'Twas the Night Before Christmas

nutcracker

by Clement Clarke Moore
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
horse
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.
wreath
When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
bells
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
wreath
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"
horse
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
bells
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
roof
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
wreath
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
bells
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
horse
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
sleigh
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

Monday, 16 November 2009

As He Sleeps




As he sleeps, I wait on standby,

And I jump at each murmur, and fluster with his movement.
All my wrongdoings spin through my memory like a whirlwind,
And I am overcome with culpability.
So precious.
So innocent and carefree.
I can try harder.
Each day I try harder.
Each day, he grows more,
And I can give more.
No soul more deserving.
As he sleeps, I watch in amazement.
And I shed a tear for his troubles.
And I smile at the echo of his laughter.
A lull-a-bye stirs him,
He awakes with sparkles of joy in his eyes,
And only then can I sleep,
As he sleeps.

Hell For You





Feel the cold on your skin.
I can taste the hurt that you’re breathing.
Let me help warm the pain.
I’m not the type of girl to run away.

Where’s the youth gone in your eyes?
Black and heavy. Deep with lines.
I’ll take the pain for you to sleep.
And if sleeping helps, your pain I’ll keep.

Too far away to feel.
I know, at least, to you it’s real.
I’d find it hard too.
I don’t think I could take as much as you.

You grip so hard you scar your hands.
You made it with love, but you built it with sand.
If there was only one thing I could do,
I’d take this pain away for you

We Cry


Emotionless? Then who’s are these tears?
This puddle did not fill alone.
Careless? Then why do I try?
Why do I ware my fingers to bones?



Hard work? Who has the hardest job?

Who is actually living through this?
Draining? Then why do you smile everyday?
Why, when I leave, is it me that you miss?

Empty? Then who is loving you now?
Who is helping you through?
Clueless? Then how did I get where I am?
And how am I leading you?

Sunday, 15 November 2009

Tick, Tock!

Apprehensive and impetuous, I wait, as the days and nights distort into a mountain of dust.
The clock is a metronome for my anxieties. My nemesis!
Timing is crucial and so much lies on the outcome…
Hanging on a single thread of sanity, I skim the edge of reason, Encircling echolalia and screaming for an escape of repetitiveness!

LET GO!

Dumbfounded by inner strength, I soldier on.
Surrendering is not an option, these days,
Yet, lessons learned are greatly appreciated,
And I shall be forever indebted for this opportunity.

Thursday, 12 November 2009

Crows




The night is blurred,

As the mist settles amongst these hills,
And the moon is smothered and choked.
This colourless hour ceases to inflict a memory,
And thoughts provoke nothing but dreary echoes of smog and dust,
Of this deadlocked village.

Another effortless day has passed,
Through the trickles of serenity,
As the drizzle drowns out the movement of traffic.
Children confined to television sets,
And the swings swing emptily in the playground.

Autumn leaves, now no longer crisp,
Lay decaying and sludgy in streamy gutters along the roadside,
And the trees stand morbidly bare.
Litter scuffles along the pavements,
And black birds huddle together on chimney pots,
Dreaming of sunshine.

The flames crackle tonight,
And comfort me.
Perchance tomorrow, the sun will shine.
Perchance the snow shall fall.
Perchance puddles will fill and fill.

Nevertheless, tonight, I sleep and dream of sea and sand.

Saturday, 7 November 2009

A silence for our heroes




Memorial day tomorrow. A day of regret and grief for the brave who have lost their lives at war. The marching bands will play and the country will be silenced to spare a thought for the lives we have lost in battle. It is a beautiful mark of respect to pay, but it does make you wonder, why only for one minute per year!?


I wear my badge with pride. I have a 'Ban The Bomb' sign tattooed on my body. I had the tattoo the same week that America declared war on Afganistan. I cried rivers that week. I could not sleep through the panic attacks and worry from the pictures on the news. I was 18 years old at the time and could not understand why, in this day in age, we would resort to such violence. With all the blood that had been shed in previous carnage, lessons were not learned and once again, we waved Fairwell to our loved ones; some Goodbye forever.

Eight years on and the blood-shed still dominates the news. Each week, a tear falls for more loss. There are no answers nor comfort for the genocide; No motive other than, as far as I can see, 'an eye for an eye'. I want to understand. I want to believe that this is 'right', How can anyone look a person in the eye, that they have never met before and commit the ultimate?

These soldiers, our heroes, give the non-returnable gift of sacrifice and all we have to offer is one minute's silence a year.



One last chance to save a life,


One more day to go,


Have you ever heard of a hero?