New Year, New Hope, All Hail

All hail the revolution that may flourish

When actions, thought, intentions coincide,

A passion plea for peace to nurture, nourish,

Revolution of the minds burst open wide.

A global epidemic of proportions,

Pandemic thus, reliant on the means,

Communicable by communication,

Reticulated, networking at the seams.

Where once upon a dreamscape we envisaged

Peace alignment, massive in its scale,

Let words and actions make the global village,

We can do this, yes, believe, we can prevail.

Wishing you all a peaceful and hope-filled New Year.

May we flourish as one humanity.

Anne-Marie x

Compensations

Compensations blind

to little blighters,

Irritations,

never noticed

at the start,

Compensations mask

persistent buggers,

Noted,

but ignored,

with all your heart.

Compensations ease

the little rotters,

Irritating,

 itching

to be scratched,

But, bother,

though the beggars

bug and bite you,

Compensations speak

and try to patch.

Compensations pander

mere intentions,

Overlook,

accept,

as best they can,

Compensations balk

at intervention,

Psychoanalyse

each woman,

every man.

Compensations level

rough roads travelled,

Pave the way,

and pad

the journey forth,

Compensations wear

a stoic face mask,

In silence,

loudly question,

what they’re worth.

Compensations cry,

just retribution,

Relinquish

favour feathered,

worn thin,

Compensations rise,

seek soft reunion,

But, compensations,

Fuck ’em,

They don’t win.

A Blogger Evolution

Catching up on some overdue blog reading I came across this gem from Jason.
For me the title says it all. That’s what WordPress feels like to me. And it’s an ongoing process.
The body of the article contains advice for the ‘frustrated’ or the ‘angry’ blogger, for any blogger feeling the ‘hump’.
Possibly all part of the blogging process?
One thing I’m sure of, in my own experience here, is the evolutionary part.
Like an adventurous mystery tour I may otherwise never have had the chance to journey on. Meeting others from around the world, sharing thoughts and ideas, reading the lives and feelings of others whose insights colour my thinking. Becoming and releasing more of me in the process. Kind of why I started on the journey.
I am still evolving.

Truer Words

It’s ok, worry not,

I know youas others do,

Though little comfort for you

In this faith professed,

Kindness known and shown

By actions, words, so gentle, 

Counts my knowledge of you

As a friend well blest.

It’s alright,

Dismiss the errant prophet,

Harbinger of doom and gloom,

Unjust,

Self-righteousness in judgement,

Weak in loving,

Shames all faiths and none

As judging must.

Smile a while

At one who has ill feeling,

Be sad for them for truly sad they are,

For goodness’ sake,

A grievous wound they

Pass as godly loving,

Mistake intentions,

See and god forsake.

I pity them,

Their lonely isolation,

For who could friend

A fellow frozen thus

In testament of oddly old, distorted,

Bereft of mercy, passionate to curse,

Seeing only what they see within self,

Mirror’d words to darken and presume,

Trust instead in testimony of love and friendships,

Truer words and kindness lighting, faith resume.

Cloaked Hearts

Last night, her truth revealed to me,

Her pride and self-possession,

Protective, panacea’d cloak,

For me, a timely lesson.

Neglect of her in such belief

That she was self-sufficient,

My mistake, ignored the signs,

No self is so omniscient.

Twas in a dream I saw the life

Of one I love, still dear,

To nurture this relationship

Must needs to keep her near,

As near and dear as blood can be

While distance tears apart,

Though just a dream, I see torn seams

Rending many hearts.

Strange the way a dream returns

In moments least expected

While water flows and cleanses clear

The mind has recollected

Mem’ries fond, from time beyond,

When girls held childhood toys,

When sharing all held joyful angst

And secrets told of boys.

In witches’ tales, stories regaled,

Imaginations shared,

Troubles halved, the tears, the laughs,

Two different yet ensnared.

Days now gone and men replace

The boys that we once knew,

The fashions, styles, so varied then

In the years that breached we two.

But holding on to all we had

This promise to correct,

The lion roars but in her roar

Is softest heart so few suspect.

The yellow road is paved so clear,

And ruby are the shoes,

We witches, by default, hand dealt,

To home, hearts’ feet pursue.

More similar now than then perhaps,

Bi-faulted in our ways,  

Separated by our years

Amid weathered changes to our days.

Storms arise and dreams reveal

What mind in day may lack,

Self-possession, pride, by two, 

Cloaked hearts feel own way back.

 

Curse or Cure

As one who buys into the curse of honest self-reflection,

I ponder ruse that briefs process, selective recollection,

Doughty effort, spirit voice, appraisals for collection,

Doubts regale, does truth prevail in analysed introspection.


And say what should the truth reveal in all the moments pensive,

Would aught be learned or changed withal or rejected, I dismissive

At risen thought and actions wrought, words that I have spoken,

Accepted, viewed, for change previewed, or merely selfish token.

A gesture only, naught confessed to mind and all that matters,

Hidden guilt, a comfort quilt, then tossed in pieces, scattered.

No perfection, no, not here, nor nearly, though aspired,

Appraisals made, some darker shades of earthbound, deep desires.

Very much a worldly way in living here below,

These thoughts that haunt, as spectres gaunt, a valve restrictive flow

To missives from my spirit born, my better half, by far,

Reflections thrust, my heart unjust, life and time to scar.

But still, I ponder, recollect, review and hope rebounds

That thinking ranges, plans the changes, till spirit voice resounds.

Dream Works

Elsa huggled in close,

arms around me,

unable to see my face and tears

as Princess Fiona found true love again.

My own princess Anna turned at a sniffle and asked,

‘Are you crying at Shrek?’

Disbelief evident in her tone and on her face.

How to explain to the blue sateen and gauze beside me

That fabric is deceiving,

That beauty is as beauty does

And that surface is only that.

A lesson repeated for the umpteenth time.

Always worth repeating.

Shrek’s one of the good guys.

A prince among men.

I’m glad dreams work in reality.

And that some princesses are taught to know the difference.

Mary-Kate

Overtones and undertones of beauty all displayed

Upon rough-tumbled mattress, here no feathered bed,

Interwoven tresses cascading onto floor,

Rumpled cloth and denim, silken-casualled lore.

Breathed in creamed complexion, undisturbed in sleep,

Portrait of simplicity, in dreamland while I peep.

Softened heart displayed on lips,

Relaxing in repose,

Daughter number two, unthorned,

Delicately dazzling rose.

Unexpected

Sneak away to cotton wool of quiet

Where verbiage is visual, thickened slurp

Upon a screen, (or paper’s always preferable),

It’s stealing time between each gulp and blurt,

Like weaning from the waifs that all are gathered,

No kidding, it’s like twisting with the crew that Ollie kept

(before he joined the rogues and Fagin’s chorus)

And held his plate for seconds (though unmet). 

I figure at this rate that I’ll be plastered,

(with drink or effort or the two combined),

It’s early days for falling on the flooring

(but as long as fridge is full, they’ll step over, they won’t mind).

I wonder where they put it all, these grubbers,

(like orphaned foragers who’ve starved till I stepped in)

I really should be charging for this workhouse

(or at least for all the hangers-on they bring).

But, bugger it, they’re young and I’m an old fart,

(Moaning for the fun of moaning’s sake),

We do that you know, (while pushing zimmers),

It’s called prerogative (or some such take). 

I really can’t complain, (they made the dinner,

But buggered up the menus I had planned),

See it, want it, eat it, (no questions),

It was delicious with the French bread (full of garlic, heavy hand).

It’s gone quiet now, (they’re off to their own rooms)

(At least, I think that’s where they’ve sneakily disappeared),

I’ve been excused for good behaviour (by hubby,

who’s now got his feet up in a chair)

Though very soon it’s pick-up for another,

He’s on that (cause I had Cabernet, a lovely wine)

Daughter back with cat, (no longer tiny kitten),

Poor dug will have a seizure (or maybe fine).

It’s the unexpected nature of the season

(Well, it feckin’ is, if you live here!)

Beds unrolled, (some couches unfold)

And counting heads, (maintaining all good cheer, sic).


Did you know that some wines are labelled 14%! (I didn’t.)

Swear to god and all his wee buddhas and helpers

(no offence to all wee buddhas and helpers)

I am such a light weight at times.

Two glasses is what I call a cheap date.

I blame all the work.

And then suddenly stopping.

Confuses the body.

And the mind. (Spirit still intact).

It’s not really Christmas Eve tomorrow,

is it?

I’ll probably do my damndest to escape to wordville over the season ( I call it maintaining sanity) but if I don’t (or even if I do) I hope you all have a lovely Christmas, Happy Holidays, Seasonal Fest.

Thank you all for reading over the year and all the lovely comments. It’s still such a pleasure to glimpse all your worlds. May the New Year be good to you. And all your dreams be blessed.

Anne-Marie x

Year In The Fire

The fire glimmers softly at this time of year,

Dulled with amber glow and vague reflection,

Crusted embers fused in furnaced carbon tears,

Mingled joyous sadness and dejection.

Beginnings of the ending of another passaged year,

Vault of mem’ries scanned in observation,

Stockings hung, as adults, anticipating all good cheer,

Pros and cons on mantelpiece selection.

Twas once upon the last day of the dying of each year

That I gazed into the flames of self-perception,

Feather to the balance of the heart, reviewed with fear,

Weighted gaze, self-analyzed confession.

Distanced through the haze in the glow of burnt-out year,

A summary of days passed in completion,

Banked one upon the other, at life calendar I peer,

In moments quiet peaceful introspection.

Some coals that I have gathered in the bunker of this year

I’ll store in baskets woven for retention,

Others I will burn to warm and I’ll hold dear

The treasures earthed from pits and recollection.