Monday, 24 December 2012

Someone else's angel.

You’re someone else’s angel,
Someone else’s darling,
You share someone else’s day,
Wake and fall beside them.

You’re someone else’s prince,
Share your dream with another,
Say good bye & hello on your way out the door,
And listen to someone else whilst they sleep.

It’s their clothes you clean and press,
It’s someone else’s food you cook,
Your lists include someone else’s needs,
You share plans and expectations with someone else.

I can’t share your mealtimes,
Or run you a bath,
Cos you’re someone else’s angel,

And I can only look on from afar.

Monday, 10 December 2012


I wonder how many different
Tears I can cry.

Once my tears were childlike,
And wiped away by a mother.

Then I cried as I saw my firstborn,
And wiped away her tears too.

Over the years I've had need to shed,
Tears of pain, tears of sadness.

Tears of loss, tears of sorrow,
Tears which fell unprompted.

I'm just not sure how many more
I have to cry.

What the wind tells me...

You are the wind….
Ever changing direction,
Sometimes strong,
Sometimes silent,
Lifting me up,
Or pushing against me.

I am a tree…
Apparently standing still,
Sometimes sheltering,
Sometimes needing support,
Moving with the wind,
Sometimes breaking.

Watch my branches wave,
Hear the winds sigh,
See my leaves fall,
Feel the power of the breeze,
I have no choice,
But to do as the wind tells me.

Wednesday, 9 May 2012

A life...

A life on fire,
burning with passion,
searing, enraging,
engulfing everything.

A life on the edge,
needle-sharp emotions,
razor-like decisions,
about to topple over.

A life sinking fast,
swamped by everything,
washed under,
soaked and rung out.

A life of ice,
cold, bleak, demanding,
exhilarating and nerve -tingling,
but deadly.

Which one is yours?

Sunday, 25 March 2012

What place is this?...

What place is this?

A silent echo, the roar of thunder...

The blinding light, a veil of crushing dark...
A history of emptiness,
So full of space.
Did once the sun and moon both rise,
'twere ever so.

Lift up my face,
Sweet odour of roses, jasmine, honeysuckle,
Heavy, towering and sickly,
Press me down, run me over.

A heat at once, intense and searing,
Chilling, burning,
Not comfort,
But ultimately suffering.

Noise of wind,
Ever sighing, Forever roaring,
Breath of life soft,
Destruction in its spin,
Both but all at once.

You feel alive but,
Feel pain,
Experience no sensations,
Touch life and hold dreams but
Let things slip things though your

What place is this?

Sunday, 1 January 2012

The night

I've seen the clouds go rolling,
thought the dark, mid-winter sky,
as I stood still to hear the sounds of night,
not quiet at all, but low & subtle.

The dripping of the captured rain-drops,
falling from the bare tree branches,
as the wind lifts up the sounds of distant traffic,
and people returning from evenings out.

The swish of a cyclist riding home from a late-shift,
furtive animal, almost silent in the inky dark,
I don't feel scared or lost,
Its just peaceful and calm.

The dark isn't a place for playing games,
reading a book, or trying to sew,
but it surely helps hide the tears,
or comfort the soul.