Words of love,
always wholly meant,
gently offered and willingly given.
Hands guiding,
helpful, not demanding,
supportive through-out tribulation.
A shoulder to cry on,
no thoughtless words,
listening only, not making judgements.
Time spent,
doing whatever's needed,
never storing up for future favour.
Honesty in action,
only being true to each other,
whether good news, or bad.
Steps to a good relationship.
Saturday, 9 November 2013
Thursday, 25 July 2013
Sunday, 14 July 2013
Black White
Black is the absence of colour
White is far too much
Black shows your best side or hides you away
White reveals you at your worst
Dark hides the pain
Light shows the world for what it really is
Dark comforts when hope feels far away
Light feels cold, empty
Warmth helps sooth chilled limbs
Cold makes hands hard to hold
Warmth wraps you up in a blanket of gentleness
Cold pushes you away
Black
White
Dark
Light
Warmth
Cold
Flip sides of the same coin ....
White is far too much
Black shows your best side or hides you away
White reveals you at your worst
Dark hides the pain
Light shows the world for what it really is
Dark comforts when hope feels far away
Light feels cold, empty
Warmth helps sooth chilled limbs
Cold makes hands hard to hold
Warmth wraps you up in a blanket of gentleness
Cold pushes you away
Black
White
Dark
Light
Warmth
Cold
Flip sides of the same coin ....
Wednesday, 10 July 2013
A Bed of Roses
I am lying in a bed of roses,
everywhere I turn are there thorns,
my skin is torn,
my hair is tangled,
and now I dare not move.
Each strand of hair
lies wrapped,
caught,
held fast by prickles,
sharp, painful memories.
My skin, fair, rent, bleeding,
trickles of ruby-red,
like rear drops,
only,
they hurt too. Like memories.
Every piece of clothing,
I've tried to wear,
is torn apart,
exposing,
the weakness of my nakedness.
I'm lying in a bed,
a bed of sharp, sharp rose thorns,
I cannot move,
my hair is tangled,
my skin is pierced
and my clothes are worse than useless.
everywhere I turn are there thorns,
my skin is torn,
my hair is tangled,
and now I dare not move.
Each strand of hair
lies wrapped,
caught,
held fast by prickles,
sharp, painful memories.
My skin, fair, rent, bleeding,
trickles of ruby-red,
like rear drops,
only,
they hurt too. Like memories.
Every piece of clothing,
I've tried to wear,
is torn apart,
exposing,
the weakness of my nakedness.
I'm lying in a bed,
a bed of sharp, sharp rose thorns,
I cannot move,
my hair is tangled,
my skin is pierced
and my clothes are worse than useless.
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
Tears..
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
Tears,
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,
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,
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