[Thoughts] Daffodils

It's like they come out of nowhere, sneaking up on you from an otherwise unremarkable verge. No one tends them, but they must have been planted on purpose, and every year they fight their way through on the edges of busy roads, roundabouts, fields, gardens, everywhere. I see a bunch of them and I am in awe of their simplicity.

One day I will plant my own daffodils. I will try to forget where they are hidden so I get a pleasant surprise when they explode on my lawn. Maybe I will plant some under someone's lawn, spelling out words, or in a daffodil pattern, a daffodil of daffodils! Someday somewhere someone will be pondering the daffodils I have planted.

But, I think the question really is, where do they go when it isn't Spring?

[Poem] Rhythms

What if you could watch in secret
When the lovers enter the room?

Bodies coming together,
Urgent, grasping fingers entwine,
Unrestrained passion running high,
Taut skin meets soft delicate flesh,
Lips pressed firmly, stifling screams.

What if you could be a voyeur
When the scene unfolds before you?

The slow rhythm intensifies,
Though she is spent he continues,
His movements become less controlled,
She turns her eyes towards his face,
As he strikes home the fatal blow.

What if you could have done something
When he first raised his fist to her?

[Poem] Broken

I harden my thoughts
and my heart turns to rocks
as another broken toy
Goes back in its box

[Poem] Sanctuary

I like it in here,
When the curtains are drawn,
Can’t see the darkness outside,
It’s cosy and warm

There’s only one door,
And only one lock,
I swallow the key,
Ignore every knock

The bed is inviting,
I’ve made it my own,
I don’t need to fill it,
Don’t care I’m alone

Within my four walls,
There’s quiet not noise,
My heart relishes peace,
Kept safe from the boys

[Thoughts] Who are you all?

I get an e-mail once a week telling me how many people have visited, and at what times. On average I get ten hits a week, but very, very few comments.

Who are you all? Is it the same person visiting every day in the hope of there being something new here? Why do you never say anything? Do you come here by mistake...

Enquiring minds want to know.

[Drawings] Self Portraits

Been practicing the drawing...

[Illustrated poem] Stepping Forward, Falling Back

She drags the past behind her,
While it seethes and snarls at her back.
She stops, thinks for an instant.
It seizes a chance to take her again
And once more she falls into its grasp,
Frantically scraping the dirt in the dark.

Indescribable violence wrenches her hope,
The bonds to old pain cut deep,
Escape lies far from her panicked fingertips.
She cries out in her frustration.
Desperate sobs of pain, fear, despair.
Chained to the past she searches for a key.

She tries to convince herself it isn’t happening,
That if she closes her eyes she’ll be safe.
But she can’t stop her fall,
She scrabbles while her stomach lurches.
All she has to cling to
Is the thing that’s pulling her down.

[Poem] Different Light

I saw a new side to you tonight,
I can’t tell you how I feel.
How do I explain what it meant?
How can I help you see what I saw?

I suppose I should try one day,
I need to find the words first.
How do I make it make sense?
How can I convey the memories?

It’s too much right now.
The time is never right.
But one day you will know,
See yourself in a different light.

[Poem] Just This

It begins with sobbing humility
Displayed in infantile weakness,
Until a shroud of expectation descends.
The struggle begins early,
Always a battle without a foe,
Sporadic facade versus discrete interior.
Scars are never worn with pride,
They burrow into delicate skin,
Bursting the surface when probed.
Moments of exception infiltrate,
Form decorations on a ragged uniform
Worn under duress for a lifetime.
Victories swell momentarily,
Exposing breaks in boundaries,
Steady progression is enabled.
It is a valiant attempt,
Any audience would applaud,
Should anyone care enough to watch.
As the uniform begins to fade,
And directions become choices,
There is a glimpse of hope.
But some things will never be easy,
Even with the end in sight,
Success appears terrifyingly impossible.
Clinging to fragile roots,
Old memories against a worn mind,
Beaten to submission for a last time.
There will be no finale to remember,
Only a definite and unavoidable
End.

[Poem] Moving

I can’t go back,
What that place does to you…
It doesn’t fit me,
Or I don’t fit it

I don’t want to see her again,
Memories of her don’t fit right…
She went through the pains,
I felt them, every one

I won’t let it happen,
She’ll not claim me…
But if I win the fight,
What then… ?

There’s no reason
No rhyme
I’m broken
Lost