Monday, 21 December 2009
Positive Mental Attitude
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Well thats different
Monday, 16 November 2009
Finally done it
Sunday, 8 November 2009
By Firelight
I feel the leaves crackle beneath my feet as I look up and find you
haloed in fire light. Your effervescent glow in the raging bonfire
fills me with a heat not known by mere flickering flame.
The light catches your hair as the soft tendrils dance
in the light breeze of the chilled evening.
The sun has set behind me, the last vestiges of day
have finally given up its steely grasp on the expectant revellers.
They mill about the firelight like moths drawn to its warm embrace.
I stand clear in the newly formed shadow watching you dance
around the crowd capturing all those you look upon
and wonder when it was that you first seized my heart and clamped
it in your fist. A tight embrace I would never relinquish.
Darkness takes the party as the smell of burning permeates the air,
the firelight and you are the only barriers to the cold night that
seeps in around our small gathering. Groups huddle protectively
both anxious and enthralled by evening’s soft kiss on their cheek
the tender stroke of its cold fingers down their necks
and along fragile arms folded across chests.
A shiver passes through your body though you do not flinch,
smiling into the encroaching darkness in anticipation
of further delights offered only in dark hours.
The sky explodes into life illuminating the grounds once more,
touching all the faces with hues of green and red.
You see my face illuminated in man-made stars destined to burn out in a heartbeat.
Your eyes penetrate my being and send the cacophony of many fireworks
skittering to the back of my mind. Our breath holds us,
sentinels watching the world catch light and burn around us.
Reflected in your eyes I see myself rooted as the light of the world
rains down on me and for a moment it is beautiful.
Then I fade again to nothing the stars gone out, too fierce to linger.
The leaves crackle beneath my feet as I turn back to the darkness.
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
The silent room
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Negativity is bad for your health
Friday, 18 September 2009
Black and White - Peeping at the surface
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Sewing With My Grandmother
The crisp, clean piece of white cloth was handed to me with quiet reverence. I let it pass through my hands feeling its properties, the starched stiffness of a new project barely embarked on. Around the edges it was finished with lace trim much softer than the main fabric, delicate to the touch. The sensual rub of the lace pattern delicately dancing across my fingertips.
To one corner I noticed the transferred design boldly infringing on the stark perfection of the fabric. The bold blue lines seemed clumsy and intrusive against the elegance of the lace. Remembering my purpose I looked up to my grandmother.
Her face was lit half with amusement and half with impatience as she held out two rings in her hands waiting for me to take them. I took the white one first. The cold hard plastic was strange to the touch, its outer edge concave. I carefully placed the ring beneath the fabric meticulously lining it up so the transfer was in the centre.
I reached for the second ring. It was dusky peach in colour and completely unlike the first. It had the consistency of rubber, flopping comically in my hand. I noticed with some confusion that there was a small brass ring attached to its side glinting slightly in the sun filtering through the lacy net curtains.
I pushed the second ring over the first as I had been shown, trying to keep the material taut. It was messily done and I had to straighten it out before my grandmother noticed the imperfect ripples over the fabric. I lifted it to the light with my chubby childhood fingers marvelling at my success in the first task, which would one day enable me to create masterpieces like my grandmothers.
My hand dropped and I started to fidget on the sofa, the soft sheen navy fabric clinging to my legs in the warmth of the room. I fingered the space next to me where the large peacock stared back out at me through its fabric prison.
My stomach lurched as the lesson began.
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Growing pains
Monday, 7 September 2009
Dickensian Boy
A smile thins his lips
momentarily disturbing the route
of a glinting spoon piled
with cereal.
A bowl balances the scene
jauntily held
in statement more than purpose.
He glides into the classroom
to an open desk
in simulated nonchalance,
discarding the bowl noiselessly
on the Formica surface.
An exhibit in a freak show
created to obscure
a mundane life.
Out of our time he floats among us
long enough
to assert his oddball brilliance
without a hint of irony
in his sunken eyes and glib persona.
He scries oratory delights on
crinkled scraps of paper tied together
with a blue shoelace.
He vanishes when not in our midst,
delving the depths of obscurity,
hands buried in patched pockets
of a gentleman’s blazer.
Hunched against the tide of modernity.
An over intellectualized ghost
of a personality hiding behind
his clever words and witty rhetoric.
This poem is based on a purely fictional character. Any resemblance to a person living or dead is coincidental and unintended!!
Back to School
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Feeling good
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Whoosh!
Sunday, 16 August 2009
A new job
Sunday, 9 August 2009
Christmas is coming
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Just a little weirdness
The boy that didn’t
A welsh dragon wanders the valleys waiting for a knight to come. Waiting for a chance to roar and prance in the dance of life and death, looking for a way to become fierce and strong like her mother before her. She walks the well-worn paths of her ancestors dreaming of the future, the excitement and thrill of the chase. Dragon catches glimpses of people who hide in the distance scared of her fire and passion expecting attack and pain. Curling up by the lake she preserves her energy for the fight to come.
The little boy plays with swords and jousts with friends, he seems aggressive and fierce. He watches the knights ride off to battle and fears for them. His stomach turns from stories told by the hearth to entertain and bolster warrior egos. He dreads the day they’ll send him to fight when he can longer hide his fear of blood or his reticence to strike the decisive blow. He will not do it. No knighthood for him.
Dragon slumbers in the valleys, an undetected mound never to be disturbed. Her destiny unfulfilled, heart broken.
Thursday, 23 July 2009
The House Formally Known as Dell Cottage
A shove to the door gains access
to the cavernous hallway lit by sun
dappled glass panels
etched with flowing flowers,
sentries standing guard at the door.
A tatty piece of ply is pinned above the door,
flaking shiny black paint pieces float
from the woodwork to mingle with glass
remnants that crack underfoot
until ground to dust, indistinguishable
from the other decay lining the parquet floor.
A thin layer of time rests over handrails
that sweep their sinewy path to the upper levels,
cast iron flowers wind their way
from tread to rail undeterred
by the decay, reminiscent of the flowers
clinging desperately to the proud façade.
Been fiddling around with this and not sure about the format, line breaks, construction etc. Feedback would be much appreciated.
Monday, 20 July 2009
Home Again
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Nothing Doing
Friday, 3 July 2009
The Arrival.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
What a Great Evening
Sleeping Fish
Brilliant sunshine frolics on the bed sheets
sending shivers of envy through the bodies beneath,
enlivened shapes playfully dance and sway
to the rhythm of the sun’s drum.
Lavender air drifts in light waves through
the open window kissing the light drapes sending
them skittering across the parquet floor.
Long arms caress in the silky warmness
as sleepy minds drift between worlds,
just one moment before day begins.
Monday, 29 June 2009
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Places I Breath
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Chasing Clouds
Monday, 22 June 2009
Full Throttle
Friday, 19 June 2009
Checking in
Friday, 12 June 2009
What a Gorgeous Day
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
Old Friends
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
So, what do you do?
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Neno's Award
Neno’s Rules
1. As a dedication for those who love blogging and love to encourage friendships through blogging.
2. To seek the reasons why we all love blogging.
3. Put the award in one post as soon as you receive it.
4. Don’t forget to mention the person who gives you the award.
5. Answer the awards question by writing the reason why you love blogging.
6. Tag and distribute the award to as many people as you like.
7. Don’t forget to notify the award receivers and put their links in your post.
I love blogging as gives me a space to syphon my thoughts, just skimming the top off my over-active brain. There are many reasons why I blog and even more why I read others' blogs. This space we have here is great to bounce off each others ideas. Other's thoughts inspire mine and then mine inspire others. It's a great process.
I'd like to pass this award on to:
Plan Plan Plan
Firstly I will write for at least 30 minutes every day. I'm hoping it will be longer than this but figure starting with a small amount might be a good idea. If I go over that amount I can feel like I've achieved something.
Secondly I'm gonna start walking more. I've been trying to locate parks around my area within walking distance so that whenever the weather is nice I can head out and spend some time outside. I've spent far too much time indoors recently and it's depressing.
Thirdly I want to only search for jobs online every other day. It seems that looking for a job has become my new time wasting technique. There is no need to keep checking several times a day. It's overkill.
Lastly I want to do more sewing. I've been doing odds and ends but nothing planned. I have projects I want to really get stuck into and why put things off? I'm just gonna go for it.
So now it's written down there's no going back. My failure this time would be public.
Let the experiment begin!
Saturday, 6 June 2009
Old is a state of mind
It was at this point that i realized I had gotten old. A few moments later I realized I didn't care. I was glad that I had finished with that part of my life. After all it took a lot of alcohol for me to enjoy that scene even when I was really young (like 18!!).
I say good for the old fuddy duddies, they know what they're talking about. I'll be applying for my zimmer frame shortly!
Dormant Haloes
was shining and the days were long
that I would never amount to much
I smiled and I thought you're right.
That person had always been disappointed
in my lack of drive, my way of making everything a joke.
I would laugh at those who gave a damn
or those who pushed to make the grade.
That person didn't know what happened
to dreams, or where high hopes led.
They did not understand the importance
of invisibility, in blending with the crowd.
Getting by was more important than getting ahead
Dreams crept in and were swept away
hidden beneath bravado and joviality
lay the dormant haloes of a fallen angel.
What point was there to falling where others fear to tread,
reaching for something other than the safety of your head.
Thursday, 4 June 2009
The Cheek of some people!!
She seemed really pissed off so I made her a drink and waited for her to vent. I was expecting something was wrong at work as she has only been there 3 weeks and already she hates it there. It seems like the people she works for are a little crazy and very rude. I had been hearing odd stories about them for the last few weeks.
She sighed and begun the latest story. I have to say I was shocked that employers think they can get away with what has happened. Perhaps I'm naive but I thought there were laws protecting people from this sort of thing:
JC had applied for the job through the Jobcentre website. They had advertised for someone on a low salary with a high commission estimate. This was confirmed in the interview and they offered her the job. When JC received the contract it stated it was commission only. When she queried this she was told it was an error and they would sort it out and come back to her with new a contract.
It took them 3 weeks of gentle reminders for them to do anything, the whole time JC is working full time. This morning they asked for a meeting with her and told her the job was commission only and not meant to be her only job. When she challenged them that the advert had stated a salary and an OTE they told her she could either accept it or leave!
The cheek of some people to think others are gonna roll over and take whatever they dish out! Needless to say she going to tell them where to go and look into where she stands legally.
tsk tsk tsk
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
The thing about laziness...
I've been wondering today about what it is that makes me put off the things I should be doing. Is it laziness? I guess I have spent a lot of time getting in my own way but I've never really been sure why. Somewhere during my early school years I learnt that if I coasted I had more friends. I taught myself to use simpler words and only do as much as it took to get by.
I got past the being someone else for other people thing a long time ago but the laziness thing has never worn off.
However much I want to I don't seem to push myself in anything. I have no discipline.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
A bit of nonsense
Light tingles spread across my arm and the smell of rain assaults my senses before I even feel the first drop. The dark purple bruises travel fast across the darkening sky all light reduced to a tiny shaft of brilliance caressing the leaves of the trees around me. I am standing alone amongst nature. We are in communion. The clouds pass over me, sending me into darkness and on to the rain. The first fat drop falls, barely caressing my cheek before tumbling to my chest to weave a meandering course on my skin and easing under the cotton barrier of my top. Others follow on until they have beaten down their predecessors leaving my body cloaked in slick moisture. My clothes desperately cling wet from the onslaught. The smell is overpowering now in my little patch of green and I welcome it. I am laughing as the lightening begins to strike. The energy it releases hits like a tidal wave. It is absorbed by earth and the air. Too much power for one living thing to possess, it has destroyed an oak in my forest. Vengeful flames lick at the air, cursing the water pounding at its soul. With this power the world is mine if I wished it. The power and the glory ripe for the taking. I will not take it. I do not wish to be consumed. I will just stand guard until my time is ended.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
shivers
Sometimes writing down what's on your mind feels so final. Thoughts are just thoughts until they are written down and then they're just out there, stark, open and vulnerable. Words can be a very frightening thing. They can express emotions and thoughts that we perhaps try to hide. Once they are verbalized they exist in a way they didn't within your head.
Facing them written down is enlightening but also incredibly scary. perhaps my head is a darker place than I would like it to be, maybe things aren't good. I've always been a fairly positive person, telling myself there is a way to do everything, a way to talk myself out of any bad situation.
I guess my own arguments are sounding a little thin these days, because it takes may take just one person to exist but you need more than one person to make a real life.
So I think it is time I headed out of my life for one inside my head and got a real one. How do I do that? I guess I've forgotten along the way, time to relearn.
Friday, 15 May 2009
reading
I know some of the events that happen at the end of the book and find myself unable to read them. I know one of the main characters die and that some bad things happen towards the end. Obviously things all work out apart from the one death I've mentioned but I can't seem to make myself read it.
I feel like I don't want to read it, which is ridiculous as I know I like the story. I wonder what is it that makes us shy away from sadness sometimes even when we know it is make believe. A good story can make us experience a whole range of emotions and sometimes we seek these things out, but what makes it resonate so deeply.
It's strange how the lives of people who never existed can touch us more than those who populate our own little worlds.
I think I might leave the book for a day or two and try again.
Thursday, 14 May 2009
Hmm, a bit deep for me...
that some people just walk past the sign
for deliverance on their way to the supermarket.
My Angel says ignorance is not my excuse
I'm already a lost cause and there's only so many
times he'll hit me over the head with the sign.
Angel doesn't know I can always see it
never thought my blindness deliberate
or that I choose to walk away from salvation.
Just typed this straight into the computer and was a little surprised. Any thoughts welcome.
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Loneliness
If you've read any of my previous blogs or have known me at any stage of my life you'll understand why. I am a control freak and don't deal well with my own emotions. They are identified, labelled and then stored away, hopefully never to resurface in a form more harmful than the co-ordinating of my underwear.
It hit me today as I sat restlessly watching tv what the emotion I've been grappling with is. Like a bolt from the blue I knew my problem and why I had not realized earlier.
I am lonely.
I have never been lonely before. It's hard to believe but it's true. I have managed to get to the ripe old age of 27 without ever being lonely. Its a very strange and alien concept for me to wrap my head around and throws into confusion the future I have long had in mind for myself (crazy cat lady).
I wondered why I had never felt this feeling before. There are times in my life where I have felt so alone and isolated but even in my darkest moments I wasn't lonely. I guess the answer is an easy one. I never let myself feel lonely before. I made my life so reliant on only myself that the thought that I could need something from another person that I couldn't provide for myself was impossible.
Now I have let that mindset go a little. I allow others to help. I think this is why I am lonely because I know I don't have everything I need. That I need more.
I'm not sure who is more sad, me back then or me now.
Leda
Leda
The distant hum of wings whistles through the water.
Minute droplets of acidic fear fall on her bare flesh
And refuse to burn away the blood
spattered on his pristine white feather breast.
His claws are rampant in the struggle for his prey.
The grotesque beating melody effaces
my eardrums as the sea ebbs away
from the majestic swan in triumphal stand.
Stirred by the gentle moans of the retreating surf
the bird takes flight leaving the figure still
swaying to the beat of wing on flesh,
a trickle of red on her ankle sinking in the sand.
Journey to Eden
Journey to Eden
Softly, Softly
on the cold stone floor
feet exposed to the harsh
abrasive surface
that nature created
and man carved.
Gently, gently
across the dew ridden grass
that clings desperately
to the sanctuary
of the creviced sole
hardened with cold.
Careful, careful
through the thorns to Eden
the yearning of
something promised
but not yet fulfilled
revives the heart.
Lightly, lightly
on the sandy shores
dancing through the
grainy sand that runs
through my toes
my naked feet.
Still, still
with death lapping
at my vulnerable feet
enticing me for a dip
maybe just
for a little while.
Conversations with my 16 year old self cont...
The world is turning
spinning on the axis of the mind
orbiting the heart
like a hunter circles its prey
waiting to savagely eat.
Primal instinct
runs through the veins
pumping the hunter adrenalin
as he lies in wait
for the stray young
of another man's tribe
to devour, destroy, to mutilate.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Conversations with my 16 year old self
Shades of Me
Endless shades of grey engulf the subconscious
blurred at the edges, devoid of clarity
Rainy in my heart, stormy in my soul
A million shades of grey that entrap the spirit.
Sparkles of moonbeam that shoot through the dull
so many shades of rainbow fighting
so little light battles and succeeds
A million shades of moonbeam hold the keys.
Searching for my purple haze on the horizon
never coming, waiting feels like forever
wind blows through my mind and soul
A million shades of purple haze is my hope
Endless shades of confusion in my conscious
Conflicting thoughts in heart and in head
whirling like tornadoes, hurricanes
A million shades of grey on my stormy sea
A million shades of me.
I know, I never realized quite how emo I was back then and this is by no means the most depressing!
Tracing Happiness
vague crinkle between mouth and nose,
a brief dazzle of pearl.
A carbon copy of a true emotion
does nothing to the original.
Not There
The walls leak shadows of hungry eyes
searching for words that choke in my throat.
The world waits impatiently
in the hollow of the silence as
feelings topple inward and seal the mourning
of the loss of what was never there.
So rings the timeless chime of life ill spent.
So this is my first poem in about 4 years. So bizarre that it came off the back of my last post. It is literally a first draft but thought it might as well go up as can't believe I wrote it. My poetry has been blocked for a long time.
I'm not saying I never take risks but they are rare. The biggest risk would have to have been my college course, which sounds a little sad now I think of it. The battle with myself that I went through just to show up to the interview was bad enough. My hands were shaking and my mind was blank except for the fear coursing through my veins. Self-doubt plagued me but that wasn't the main reason for the panic I felt.
I sat on a bench outside the building I was to enter, clutching a portfolio of work which the majority of I had never let another person read. I was about to hand over something that was incredibly private for somebody else to scrutinize. I was not there because I thought I had talent or because my work work was remarkable in any way. I was there because I loved making it.
In the deepest darkest moments of my life, when I just wanted to curl up and die, when I thought my world was empty of anything worth holding onto I could sit down and release all the hurt and the pain. Other times I would just escape into the world in my head and live in a place full of so much more than I possessed in reality.
The works in my hand were the products of my sanctuary and so close to my heart that I resisted letting them go. I didn't know what awaited them and myself on the inside of that building and it made me want to run as far away from it as possible.
But I didn't.
It was the bravest decision I have ever made and not just because I opened myself up to be judged but because I had no idea what the outcome would be. Would I be able to do the same again? That I don't know. Now I am a little more battered and bruised and also a little more open and vulnerable.
I would never have guessed that day sat on the bench where I would be now, 5 years later. I started a process that day that has slowly removed personal barriers that I didn't know needed to be removed. I am a better person for it but I am also much more cautious.
My decisions effect me more than they used to and risks become greater now. I wonder whether it has prevented me taking the risks needed to really live my life. I told myself after that day that I would risk more and think less but it didn't really pan out that way. The worst affected area I think is my artwork. My art can be good but it is not extraordinary and I think the only way it'll ever get there is if I put myself on the line.
I want be that person walking into the unknown whose willing to show herself to the world. Just to say "This is me deal with it".
Will it happen?
We'll see...
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
News
News Update:
My parents are moving to Scotland, which is a long way from where I live. I'm not sure how to feel about this. People keep asking me about it and I can name all the reasons it will be good for them and I really see it as a great move for them. But then comes the look. People get that searching look, like they are trying to find what I'm not saying.
I'm expected to state the obvious about how I'm gonna miss them, like that's not a given. More than that I think 'm expected to be more upset than I am. Maybe I'm unfeeling but I'm just not that upset.
My older sister is acting like a child over the whole thing, which is annoying me. She seems to be displaying all the emotions expected of me. all I can think is that this behaviour is pathetic. I just don't get the big deal.
Thursday, 19 March 2009
The Merits of Research
In the background AS, our then long-suffering teacher, is talking about something important, if I can only just focus on it. But that pesky George Michael is relentless. I lean to my other side and DH is scribbling furiously her notes. I make out one word RESEARCH. Crisis averted, no need to listen, research isn't really vital to my career as a writer.
BOY WAS I WRONG!!!!!
A few years have passed since I left my degree in Creative Writing. I left with a BA and stunted creativity. I thought this was down to overthinking my writing. I ditched all planning and research and just started writing from my heart. I ignored my brain telling me to correct spelling or grammar and ignored the critical voice asking where it was going.
I found it freeing creatively and actually began writing something I was happy with. It wasn't perfect but I liked it, which was an improvement. When I started looking at the work I was doing it was all inter-related. Unknowingly I'd started writing a trilogy.
As the work progressed I put down a plan. A PLAN! Totally unlike me. Two weeks ago I was suddenly struck by the fact that in order to make my work better I need to research quite a bit of information.
The big revelation is that I enjoy doing research. I'm surrounded by books and my own typed notes. Everything is covered in highlights and post its. It's all very surreal but I love it.
All those years ago sat in that classroom I never thought I would be in the position I'm in now.
This is serious now, not just a hobby, my life is this story now and I'm compelled to finish it. Scary
Back again
I guess the problem lies with me thinking I have nothing to say. Which is not true. I have plenty to say just maybe not anything interesting. So I think I'm just gonna stick some new thoughts up here anyway. Send them to the great Muser in the sky.