Fall Together

Did you fall, my friend, and fear the jeering laughter,

an awkward stumble,

without grace

clumsy,

sprawled

in disarray,

face-shamed,

inert.

Did you fall, my friend, and worry for the rising,

relinquishing

feelings

vanquished,

laid out,

cold

judgements pending,

did you fall.

 

Will you stand again,

despite the fall

and fears

and see the kindness

in spectators’ eyes,

no vicious slights,

participants,

in recognition

of our own

falls known.

 

Did you fall, my friend,

I know that spot,

for I have fallen too.

We fall. We rise. Together.

 

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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).

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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

Awakened – a work in progress

Slightly more then half way through the month of November now and I’m still enthused with my novel – a work still in progress. But I would not have concentrated as I have been able to if it were not for all friends here – and you all feel as friends to me – who have contributed as guests while I fashion something from thoughts gleaned from here, there and everywhere.

So heartfelt thanks to all who have contributed. Keep them coming. And many thanks to those who continue to read even while I neglect posts I am saving. You don’t want to see my inbox! I might need to cheat and start afresh. Well, at least I’m owning up. 😉

I can see light at the end of the tunnel, even if it might end up as a train wreck. Fingers crossed the light is a star. Or at least a reflection.

I was thinking about giving some sort of idea as to what my book is about and this below is by way of a synopsis. No space travel is involved – thought it might look like that after I read it back! – but there is Scotland, there is history, there is connection across time and between family and friends unknown. There is something of the journey I have taken here on WP and something of the conversations and thoughts I’ve had most of my life. There is love. There is unity. And there is hope. Wouldn’t be me otherwise, now would it?

I actually feel a bit weepy with the end of the first draft somewhere in sight and the feeling of connection I have to all of you here and across the many miles. I love you, do you know that? OK, now there are tears. I’m going. Thank you once again.x

 

(image courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org)

 

We left each other there at idle stations,

Struggled on as one bereft, alone,

Lost connection, all as island nations,

Guilt and fear, betrayal, must atone.

 

We travelled far in merchant ships, cross’d starry ocean’s skyline,

Left behind the soul of deep regret, neglect,

Hid behind the screens and masks of  silence,

Partook of fleshly flavours’ disconnect.

 

Across the heavens blinked a morse of meaning,

Signalled off-shore, inland, to the great beyond,

Synapsed charges, beams of light reflected,

Curtailed, at first, then merged, as minds respond.

 

Caught in ether, rising from the mountains,

In and through and with all hist’ry lent,

Past and future, present, now collided,

Disconnect and fear, all secrets spent.

 

Fused as one, returned the absolution,

Light to light, darkness out of nothing, night responds,

Union forged, ethereal communion,

Evolution swift in coming dawns.

 

 

Soul Seekers

Yesterday the only blogger I’ve ever collaborated with…sounds rude, doesn’t it?!…reblogged our collaboration and inspired me to ask for more. Watch this space!

In the meantime, one of my other favourite people, Mark, wandered out from Australia’s bush territory, haggard and drought-ridden, in need of nurture by a Scottish handmaiden – ok, get with the programme, it’s not called poetry for nothing! – and has been settling in to a new way of life with the promise of his healing gifts being used for the benefit of many.

We got chatting…as you do.

And lo and behold, something he said triggered a response in me that led us to this collaboration in the comments section! I’m chuffed as f…anything. There’s a little magic in the moonlight and some wanderlust in souls that seek to find.

Soul seeker,

journey far in waxing, waning moon…

 Heart healer,

words of healing, life in tune…

 

Believe then, in magic,

writ by silver’d stars…

 And belief within,

Life open, without bars…

 

Hush, spirit, listen well,

heed that aching need…

 To find the truth,

the beginning of a seed…

 

Be still, in the knowing,

Let silence fill your mind…

 A gift from up above,

a wonder you will find…

 

No magic be cast here,

Mere souls in perfect tune…

 With love and a sharing,

Perfect harmony with the moon…

 

Be faithful to the aching…

The voice that cries within…

 For in that understanding,

is a love that’s always been.

 

May Music, Day 13 – Never forgotten

The only person that fits the category of ‘former friend’ according to my initial understanding of Twindaddy’s 13th question in the 25 day music challenge is one I choose not to remember, except to say:

Pernicious she was,

Vampiric bleeder of souls.

Better in the past.

I’ll take it instead to mean friends I’ve lost touch with for one reason or another. I still think fondly of them and know it would be like picking up where we left off should we meet again. Those people I consider as friends are never lost to my affections. One, in particular, I hope to catch up with in the fairly near future, all things going well.

For all friends that I may have lost touch with, because life takes us different places, I think of James Taylor with ‘You’ve Got A Friend’.

 

What size is justice?

What size is justice?

Is it as big as the world?

Obviously not, going by stories we read every day.

Is it as big as a nation?

Major no’s there, right across the globe.

How about the size of a city?

Or a street?

Maybe a house?

Is it at least as big as a person?

The smallest child?

Asking to be heard, to give their version of events before we ground them?

Is it the size of seven letters? Just a word, with no meaning or depth?

Or is justice an ideal? The gigantic size of a dream that spreads and grows, takes wing and flies to where it is needed, becomes pillow soft, to rest a weary head upon?

I don’t know what size justice is.

Injustice, though, I saw and felt this morning in a post I read first thing. It stayed with me throughout the day. It coloured me orange and green.

There is a size equated to injustice in my mind right now.

66 inches of dinosaur in an orange dress and green cardi.

 

 

Seeing You

On brilliant wings,

I sense your soul approaching,

as shards of glass

it rips through hidden veil,

renders all around

to shattered darkness,

blinding all, though

inner eyes prevail.

Labyrinth

In and around,

thoughts confound,

wandering, wending maze.

Monstrous deal,

high walls conceal,

entangle, capture, faze.

 

Unerring trap,

threadlike map,

alternate paths and ways.

Portents pending,

search unending,

pursuit of better days.

 

One to care,

secrets share,

mindful notions raise,

Gambles taken,

love forsaken,

chips upon the baize.

 

Restless sighs,

subjective lies,

focus, centre, gaze.

Concentrate,

permutate,

consider what heart says.

 

Labyrinth,

graven plinth,

hero rescues, flays

mindless foe,

new route to go,

meditate new phase.

School’s Out!

There really must be a big part of me wants to be a cheat. Every week I’ve done this challenge I’ve thought, ‘Nah! I don’t want that one. It doesn’t mean that much to me. I should really try for another.’

But there must also be a bigger part of me that wants to be honest. So, bugger it. Here’s my selection. Honestly.

1st Question from Steve

What is your best quality?   

Katie Melua, Halfway Up The Hindu Kush

I sometimes hear an artist I’ve never heard before or am not too familiar with then I hear something of their work and it hits me hard. When this CD was advertised on TV quite a number of years back a few tunes were highlighted and I loved every one of them. So I bought the CD, did the whole blood running thing. Later it went on to my I-pod. But I haven’t heard this one for a while.

The title of this song makes me think of someone taking advantage. That should be a warning, a lesson for the future. But it isn’t always for me. I’m very trusting. Inclined to believe the best of people. Which could also be seen as my worst quality.

 

2^nd Question.

How did you meet your best friend?

Now this song isn’t one of mine although I did quite like a lot of Busted’s songs. I even saw them in concert when I had to take my two daughters to see them after they won a competition. In fact both of them have now got tickets to see McBusted – the union of McFly and Busted. Reliving their younger days and they’re still in them.

Thunderbirds Are Go, Busted

Yes, we were a couple of Thunderbirds when we met! I was 17, Nancy was 18. Both of us on our way to matriculate at college. I saw her at the bus station. She saw me. I think we fell in love a little. Must have been the mutual waist length hair and similar features. We clicked immediately. And have been friends ever since. Back then we put the world to rights, talked politics and life to the wee small hours, shared many a drunken night in the city and there was never, nor is there still, anything we could not talk about. For hours.

 

3^rd Question

What Is Your Favourite Childhood Memory?

I Want It All, Queen

Now whether I did or I didn’t I don’t rightly recollect. I do remember wanting things I couldn’t have. Money priorities were for essentials and holidays. Not fancy toys for weans. We had enough, more than enough as I remember. My favourite memory would be of my dad taking myself and other siblings ‘up the braes’. Building fires, swinging from trees, gathering berries, spotting birds’ nests and learning about the countryside from my dad. Precious days. He was some man.

It’s just struck me too that Busted’s song mentions Spring Break. Happy holidays if you’re on them. Mine have started. School’s out!

 

Ophelia

She drowned that day for want of love and truth

And suffered blackest depths in silken waves;

Wrapped by grieving cold, unjust of lovers,

Embraced deepest liquidity of graves.

 

Other fault of miscommunication,

Disbelief, flawed lover, by no means brave –

To dwell on words of patent jealousy;

No trust nor second chance this love he gave.

 

Suspended, in timeless vault of darkness,

Eyes closed forever, nothing more to save;

Surrendered heart and soul into river

And damned by love’s mistrust became its slave.

 

‘Sweetheart, you not once believed my loving

If so easily heart has misbehaved.

Cherish only what was held between us,

A love, time was, assumed we two had craved.’