Still life

Day 12 of Napowrimo and the prompt was to use the index or contents of a book. So I chose Still Life by Richard Cobb, his sketches from a Tunbridge Wells Childhood.

As I approach in 1

I wonder about the locations in 22.

I can see the Sussex view in 28

Little Mount Sion in 34

I remember Grove Hill 37,

Where My Mother’s House lay 48.

Down the road were two people

i pluck from my memory.

The Black widow 56 and

Dr Rankling at 67.

At the bottom of the hill

still there today the church

King Charles the Martyr 71.

and the outside world 79,

from the Linbury-Buses 84

I looked through the doors and windows 93

The war memorial 106 was on my left

and i imagined my childhood journey,

in my pocket a secret map 124,

which chartered my holiday

a trip to the rocks, a ride on my bike

and ending with tea at Mr Evan’s 147

after all its still life.

 

 

Advertisements

Roller coaster of emotions.

Today I have seen most of life events, they have stretched out in front of me and made my day very rich. From simplicity to complicated, from baby to death. My inspiration came today from a young man not much older than my own son, whose mother had recently died. I watched him, listened to him, sympathized with him and thought what a wonderful person he was and how his mother must have been so proud. It brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. Today has been a roller coaster of emotions.

Head pounds, pain is searing

Brain wants to escape

Heart beats rapidly

Body follows suit

Smile remains on my face

Deep breaths to stay calm

It is not  mysadness

It is not my turmoil

I am here to help

You pour out your heart

I listen without sound

I wait, you finish

All I can do is help you

Your mother would have been proud

I am glad to have met you

enriched my life.

And be thankful for me

My life and my future.

Turn the Tables

Having spoken to my closest friend, I understand her dilema and her need to have confidence and believe in herself.

So this poem I dedicate to her.

Turn the Tables

You slammed the door as you entered the house,

You drag your dirty shoes across the new carpet.

“WHATS FOR DINNER’ you shout at me,

You couldn’t even say hello, how was your day.

 

‘I’m not cooking’ I tell you gently

‘I still have several hours of work to do yet.’’

You turn without looking at me and stomp out of the room,

 “THERE’S NOTHING HERE TO EAT’, your bellowing bounces off the wall.

 

‘YOU WILL HAVE TO GO SHOPPING’ you spit the words out.

‘I can’t, I’m tired from work, I’ve just got in, I have too much to do right now.’

IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU ISN’T IT; IT’S ALWAYS ALL ABOUT YOU.

I can see anger flaring up in your eyes.

 

I shake; I tremble, I shrink back into my skin,

Is it all about me? I think to myself

Am I being selfish or rude or unkind?

The guilt flows through every part of my body, I feel I’ve failed.

 

I step back and stare, my thoughts start to unwind

It’s not me; I realize it’s not me at all, I am the Mother;

This is my house now, I earn the money, I pay the bills

I am tired of being treated with no respect

 

I stand opposite you, “Look at me” I say

“You are my son and you are selfish and unpleasant right now.”

I want a warm happy place to come home to.

So here on in, I would like support, respect and kindness,

My love for you never falters, but it’s time to put your anger away.