tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91779356732900251512024-03-19T07:14:31.878+00:00Poems & PerceptionsA deep, meaningful, and sometimes humourous look at life - and beyond.Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.comBlogger478125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-31828720476396129142021-12-22T14:35:00.005+00:002021-12-22T14:35:44.282+00:00HAPPY HOLIDAYS<div style="text-align: left;">Hi everyone,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just wanted to thank you all from the depths of my heart for all your support here on my blog. I truly, truly appreciate it so much.ππ</div><div style="text-align: left;">I miss you all, and hope to return to blogging in the New Year if my health conditions improve sufficiently.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I do so hope you are all safe and healthy, and am so looking forward to visiting you again as soon as I possibly can. I am back to hospital in January, so hopefully sometime after then!π</div><div style="text-align: left;">In the meantime...have a Magical Holiday and take care, dear friends xxxxxxx</div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com82tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-63893847100896584582021-09-16T15:02:00.002+01:002021-09-16T15:02:42.718+01:00A 90's RAVER at 3am<div style="text-align: left;">An abandoned warehouse, beat deafening, coloured lights flashing,</div><div style="text-align: left;">her brain in overdrive.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Departing in her lycra gear, utterly bushed</div><div style="text-align: left;">from eight hours of non-stop raving. Outside</div><div style="text-align: left;">the street lamps are unsteady, dancing crazily.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The sidewalk rolls and ripples beneath her feet.</div><div style="text-align: left;">As usual, she throws up: curry, wine,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and a hash of cocktails slapped on the asphalt.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Why is she leaving alone again? Tears well up.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Tonight, she'd hoped, s<i>omeone </i>would be her rock.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the taxi, inching through</div><div style="text-align: left;">the still busy streets of Chelsea,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a torrent of thoughts, mostly unwelcome.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rebellion takes over.</div><div style="text-align: left;">This is <i>her </i>life!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Eighteen is an age for fun, not for hard work -</div><div style="text-align: left;">that can come later. Much later.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Her parents are wrong.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She is <i>not </i>accountant material.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It really is time she left home.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That place has become a tomb. Suffocating.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She is interred in it, feels like the living dead, yet</div><div style="text-align: left;">fear of the unknown seriously holds her back.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Such a dilemma! Hard boozing</div><div style="text-align: left;">has become her ally.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It delays the the inevitable, makes life easier to endure.</div><div style="text-align: left;">How she envies her brother,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a successful artist, living his life his way</div><div style="text-align: left;">with no strings attached -</div><div style="text-align: left;">in total freedom and with no pressure to prove himself.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">How wonderful to be free of parental domination</div><div style="text-align: left;">and be left alone to make his own choices!</div><div style="text-align: left;">She, on the other hand, is made to feel beholden:</div><div style="text-align: left;">the dutiful daughter, expected to follow</div><div style="text-align: left;">in Daddy's footsteps - someone to proudly parade</div><div style="text-align: left;">before envious colleagues. His carbon copy.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But, this morning, there is change in the air.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Today, she <i>will </i>begin</div><div style="text-align: left;">the life she has always longed for.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Today, she will tell them exactly how she feels.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The taxi draws to a halt. The house is lit up</div><div style="text-align: left;">and she's aware they're waiting up. As usual!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Today, she won't accept the lecture with downcast eyes.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The alcohol in her blood empowering her,</div><div style="text-align: left;">she enters by the front door. Their faces</div><div style="text-align: left;">forewarn of what is to come.</div><div style="text-align: left;">She's been dominated by control freaks for too long.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Their eyes are flashing with anger. There is no consideration</div><div style="text-align: left;">for <i>her </i>wishes, <i>her </i>feelings. She observes</div><div style="text-align: left;">the hard faces, fuelled by one-upmanship...</div><div style="text-align: left;"> for the last ever time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Four more days of holiday, followed by two hospital appointments, then hopefully back to some semblance of normality!π</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Thank you so much for your patience...and your kind support ππ</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-86809524739336794222021-09-04T10:46:00.000+01:002021-09-04T10:46:20.811+01:00HEATWAVE<div style="text-align: left;">Yellow mustard fields. </div><div style="text-align: left;">The sun-baked earth</div><div style="text-align: left;">with it's mosaic cracks:</div><div style="text-align: left;">parched, barren, like</div><div style="text-align: left;">my thoughts - overheated.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Brain shorting out. Lazing</div><div style="text-align: left;">with the languor of the idle</div><div style="text-align: left;">below blue sky's great arc,</div><div style="text-align: left;">while white limbs turn red</div><div style="text-align: left;">then brown as last winter's leaf.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This could be idyllic, this choreless </div><div style="text-align: left;">Sunday: ice lollies in the freezer,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Chardonnay cooling in the fridge -</div><div style="text-align: left;">oh if only I weren't too lethargic</div><div style="text-align: left;">to move - only a lover could rouse my senses!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">High above the Swifts reel,</div><div style="text-align: left;">their cries piercing. On unseen thermals,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a Red kite glides then steeply dives -</div><div style="text-align: left;">some poor unsuspecting rodent dies -</div><div style="text-align: left;">and I, heat mellowed, detached, simply observe.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now increasingly dazed</div><div style="text-align: left;">as sunstroke threatens, cognition</div><div style="text-align: left;">like scrambled egg, </div><div style="text-align: left;">I drag myself from UV assault</div><div style="text-align: left;">and dive into ice cold pool.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Well, a girl can dream, can't she? </i>π</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I am taking a couple of weeks' much needed holiday, so will catch up with you all as soon as I possibly can. π</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Have a great weekend guys xxx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-12331130958236795522021-08-25T13:42:00.000+01:002021-08-25T13:42:19.234+01:00THE DRYAD'S REPOSE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOj5SbUXfduharRa3sS89VhKLu5A0I6XGF-6GVfrJF3KcY1J_08WEbdDlg4mhWMAtiJnFniZ8FFKFo46gx0j2t4DHDZIMsVD5LbwhegpYomU3ZGpowxSVT4qhl36l9qOv6mB2n6g6oaA86/s2048/IMG_20210823_160243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOj5SbUXfduharRa3sS89VhKLu5A0I6XGF-6GVfrJF3KcY1J_08WEbdDlg4mhWMAtiJnFniZ8FFKFo46gx0j2t4DHDZIMsVD5LbwhegpYomU3ZGpowxSVT4qhl36l9qOv6mB2n6g6oaA86/w400-h300/IMG_20210823_160243.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">No path leads to the copse</div><div style="text-align: left;">where the Dryad sleeps.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It has all grown in.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He stands as if carved in stone</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the dappled and shifting shade</div><div style="text-align: left;">beneath His canopy of oak,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">attired in ivy's profusion.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Through the dense greenery</div><div style="text-align: left;">odours of moist earth rise.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A snail leaves silver track</div><div style="text-align: left;">over aged roots that penetrate the earth.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I take a forbidden glance:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">amid bark gnarled by time</div><div style="text-align: left;">and asymmetrical boughs,</div><div style="text-align: left;">He sleeps on, His form barely discernable</div><div style="text-align: left;">within sacred wood and green leaf.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The small brown nostrils inhale</div><div style="text-align: left;">as He sighs in His slumber,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">aware of my presence.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am the hope he dreams of.</div><div style="text-align: left;">His anguish has drawn me here</div><div style="text-align: left;">to defend His kind with my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I chain myself to the living trunk</div><div style="text-align: left;">and defy the screeching saw...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-46305422139181764242021-08-19T11:53:00.000+01:002021-08-19T11:53:53.235+01:00THE COURAGE OF THE PAIN-WRACKED<div style="text-align: left;">The courage of the pain-wracked, in spite of the onslaught!</div><div style="text-align: left;">The smile forced for others. A convincing mask.</div><div style="text-align: left;">There is agony behind it, and the dread it will never end,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the frustration of helplessness, the hopelessness of it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The anxiety cuts deep, silently crying out for help -</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">loaded, as it is, with hidden self-pity.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Self-pity? <i>Imbecile! </i>Who cares how much <i>you </i>hurt?!</div><div style="text-align: left;">A red hot sword journeying through the nerves:</div><div style="text-align: left;">Hell's Imp, playing in brain with nervous system, </div><div style="text-align: left;">prodding with pronged fork, a skilled torturer</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">inflicting agony upon the cursed Soul</div><div style="text-align: left;">with a glee that knows no bounds, </div><div style="text-align: left;">supremely skilled in his favourite sport.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The Imp is resolute, there is no anaesthetic.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He has been ignored too long, now his presence is <i>felt.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">So the suffering radiates, like a fearful nuclear fallout,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and there is only the primitive tongue to express</div><div style="text-align: left;">such depth of pain. But it hasn't the words,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it is inadequate. Should it be cut out?</div><div style="text-align: left;">And the futile sobbing. So ineffective.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sustenance, too, is rendered impossible - is stored </div><div style="text-align: left;">in memory's archive with fellow outdated files,</div><div style="text-align: left;">while watching others tuck in. Starvation beckons.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It has become an obsession, food.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A substance more precious than diamonds.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But how about the eyes of the afflicted, the eyes?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Constantly dulled by the hidden curse</div><div style="text-align: left;">and often moist with tears. And the mirror -</div><div style="text-align: left;">that face in there is the face of a dead woman,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so drawn and pale with hollow cheeks,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">a ghostly Seer, whose prophecies</div><div style="text-align: left;">bring such apprehension. A merciless judge</div><div style="text-align: left;">passing sentence upon the innocent:</div><div style="text-align: left;">a life sentence of neverending pain.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Courageous? No. I am scared...<i>so </i>scared.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>My humblest apologies, dear friends, for taking so long to visit you all. I am currently awaiting a brain scan. In the meantime, I will visit you all as often as I possibly can. Thank you so, so much for all of your kind supportπ</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Been missing you all so much xxx</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-27516992431037483852021-07-30T13:54:00.000+01:002021-07-30T13:54:09.658+01:00EULOGY<p> <i>For Michael Byrne...</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><div style="text-align: left;">I imagined I'd tracked you down</div><div style="text-align: left;">to one of those hellish concentration camps</div><div style="text-align: left;">in Hitler's nineteen-forties Germany. There,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in Nazi uniform, you stood observing</div><div style="text-align: left;">the mass genocide, your expression almost ecstatic.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ice blue eyes, clear as the spring sky,</div><div style="text-align: left;">would perhaps meet mine. What then?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Would my blonde hair and pale complexion</div><div style="text-align: left;">save me from the inconceivable horror</div><div style="text-align: left;">inflicted upon my non Aryan contemporaries?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd assumed you'd be as brutal and inhumane</div><div style="text-align: left;">in real life too and therefore intensely disliked you.</div><div style="text-align: left;">So convincing you were up there on the screen</div><div style="text-align: left;">that I'd accepted as authentic a persona</div><div style="text-align: left;">well rehearsed - but then something else</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">in your eyes sent shivers of an altogether</div><div style="text-align: left;">different kind down my spine.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd inadvertently caught you unawares</div><div style="text-align: left;">before you'd had time to slip</div><div style="text-align: left;">into your chameleonic public image.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And the discovery was intoxicating:</div><div style="text-align: left;">a clean slate with <i>your </i>face on -</div><div style="text-align: left;">a smile so unexpectedly warm</div><div style="text-align: left;">that it took my breath away,</div><div style="text-align: left;">initiating an inexplicable infatuation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Tell me, does it <i>really </i>matter</div><div style="text-align: left;">that I'm unknown to you, because</div><div style="text-align: left;">isn't absence claimed to be the heart's inspiration?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Observing your every role</div><div style="text-align: left;">has been the perfect antidote</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">to the isolation of life in lockdown, </div><div style="text-align: left;">vastly expanding my restricted world.</div><div style="text-align: left;">In the sleepless hours, I think of you</div><div style="text-align: left;">and search the darkness</div><div style="text-align: left;">for your face...π</div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-70040688743844914952021-07-15T14:09:00.001+01:002021-07-15T14:09:58.647+01:00THE HOWLING<div style="text-align: left;">Trekking over Dartmoor</div><div style="text-align: left;">through air heavy, moisture laden;</div><div style="text-align: left;">passing stone farms, long abandoned, ruinous;</div><div style="text-align: left;">bleak hills, heather clad and darkening</div><div style="text-align: left;">within gathering mist that blurs</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the boundary between reality and fiction;</div><div style="text-align: left;">our faces strangely luminous, like</div><div style="text-align: left;">those of ghosts - but somehow not.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Such transfiguring disturbs and hastens</div><div style="text-align: left;">the duo of adventurers onward</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">toward the great mystery, oft sought,</div><div style="text-align: left;">elusive and otherworldly - yet</div><div style="text-align: left;">simultaneously perceived</div><div style="text-align: left;">on hill top, on river bank;</div><div style="text-align: left;">recognisable only by the howling</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">other than that of dog or fox:</div><div style="text-align: left;">a blood-curdling, long drawn out cry</div><div style="text-align: left;">that spikes terror through the Soul.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Ominous panting nearby.</div><div style="text-align: left;">We break into a run. Padding footfalls follow.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mist so dense now. Stumbling into rock,</div><div style="text-align: left;">now prickly gorse that plucks</div><div style="text-align: left;">at our clothing. Blood red eyes within</div><div style="text-align: left;">gigantic black dog shape</div><div style="text-align: left;">looms up out of the gloom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Desperately trying to out run it,</div><div style="text-align: left;">pulses racing, fear all-consuming.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Hope fading, as it's relentless pursuit</div><div style="text-align: left;">drives us onto narrow path</div><div style="text-align: left;">between treacherous bog pools.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Gutteral howl closer now and we run</div><div style="text-align: left;">even faster, lungs almost bursting.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The path turning dark, liquifying</div><div style="text-align: left;">into black ink, flowing from Sir Arthur's pen</div><div style="text-align: left;">as it skims across the page,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">defining our fate...</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mentally beseeching him to deliver us</div><div style="text-align: left;">from the frightful curse </div><div style="text-align: left;">of his dark imagination.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Only <i>he </i>can lift it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Baskerville Hall appears before us.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But nearing means distancing</div><div style="text-align: left;">from all we've sought so long.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Pages flutter in sudden breeze. </div><div style="text-align: left;">The book closes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sunlight pierces the gloom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-22395931491372269032021-07-09T14:52:00.001+01:002021-07-09T14:53:56.436+01:00STUDENT'S LAMENT<div style="text-align: left;">From my rented postage stamp with no garden</div><div style="text-align: left;">to call my own except my window box,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I observe the dreary perspective</div><div style="text-align: left;">of colossal concrete tenement -</div><div style="text-align: left;">grey roof tiles, scuffed dun-coloured doors -</div><div style="text-align: left;">and perceive my first symbol of independence</div><div style="text-align: left;">as if between mirrors, forming an extensive</div><div style="text-align: left;">column of shabby replicas</div><div style="text-align: left;">anonymously occupied.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> But professors </div><div style="text-align: left;">own their stately bricks and mortar, </div><div style="text-align: left;">and the land upon which it stands. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Such substance makes</div><div style="text-align: left;">my visual observation a peasant's eyeful</div><div style="text-align: left;">that inferiority defines as cruelly taunting - a</div><div style="text-align: left;">pointless squandering of youthful years -</div><div style="text-align: left;">and all for what? </div><div style="text-align: left;">A futile attempt to ape possessor</div><div style="text-align: left;"> of ancestral silver spoon.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i> </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-91184330056583598692021-06-26T11:04:00.001+01:002021-06-29T13:53:25.743+01:00FERNS<div style="text-align: left;">What <i>is </i>the significance</div><div style="text-align: left;">of aromatic ferns?</div><div style="text-align: left;">That boy and girl have discovered a secret paradise:</div><div style="text-align: left;">rolling around in the earthy scent,</div><div style="text-align: left;">their clothes staining green</div><div style="text-align: left;">from the moist spiky fronds,</div><div style="text-align: left;">seizing stolen moments,</div><div style="text-align: left;">pretending to be grown-ups. My</div><div style="text-align: left;">envious stare meets them head-on,</div><div style="text-align: left;">awakening passions</div><div style="text-align: left;">of a deeply mourned youth.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Emotional backlash. Bees</div><div style="text-align: left;">lead me back to the open road.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Hunger of the Soul</div><div style="text-align: left;">has to be assuaged. Clear sky -</div><div style="text-align: left;">boundless, infinite - isolation's antidote.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Inhaling it's deep blue.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Freed, calmed, lifted - by meditation</div><div style="text-align: left;">on such unbroken expanse. So open.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Probing possibilities, like </div><div style="text-align: left;">the famous mind of Einstein:</div><div style="text-align: left;">aware of the planet's spinning,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's suspension in outer space,</div><div style="text-align: left;">mind clinging </div><div style="text-align: left;">to invisible shooting stars</div><div style="text-align: left;">and ascending like a rocket - the state </div><div style="text-align: left;">of metamorphosis, Nature's miracle,</div><div style="text-align: left;">that lump-in-the-throat moment</div><div style="text-align: left;">that renders the Soul wholly open.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I am suddenly</div><div style="text-align: left;">catapulted through time:</div><div style="text-align: left;">a retro journey back</div><div style="text-align: left;">to before the <i>Dolorous Stroke -</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">to the meaning of Fate itself.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Devoid of shade,</div><div style="text-align: left;">sun beating down mercilessly,</div><div style="text-align: left;">as the ether magnifies it's rays.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Here is my Akashic Record,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the Prophet's transformative madness.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Observing myself blunder through youth</div><div style="text-align: left;">and into the mouth of the abyss.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Witnessing a sacrificial burning</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the Phoenix arising from the ash - not <i>I,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">yet somehow the same being.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sudden denial:</div><div style="text-align: left;">the lashing out nothing more</div><div style="text-align: left;">than immature retaliation</div><div style="text-align: left;">for perceived rejections and betrayals</div><div style="text-align: left;">inflicted upon me by other damaged Souls.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What happens to the heart has consequences.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Retracing my steps. The boy and girl</div><div style="text-align: left;">have gone, but the aroma of damp ferns</div><div style="text-align: left;">still permeates the air. Pure rapture</div><div style="text-align: left;">enters my pores, infusing my being</div><div style="text-align: left;">with a startling revelation...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">reabsorption of a juvenile self</div><div style="text-align: left;">accelerates emotional evolution.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am suddenly light, weightless as a feather.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Nothing can harm me now, not even death.</div><div style="text-align: left;">The ferns rustle in a gentle breeze...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-79308843133462681102021-06-19T15:12:00.001+01:002021-06-19T15:12:32.021+01:00HI GUYS<div style="text-align: left;">Hi, my dear friends! </div><div style="text-align: left;">Just wanted to pop by to thank you all so much for your kind wishes. It does truly mean the world to me.π</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am currently experiencing multiple health issues, and am suffering extreme fatigue...but will return to visit you all as soon as I am able.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Missing you all dreadfully...</div><div style="text-align: left;">Have a good weekend and stay safe and happy xxxx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-82807365202089494472021-05-15T12:15:00.001+01:002021-05-15T12:15:26.366+01:00HOPE<div style="text-align: left;">Vainly optimistic I was</div><div style="text-align: left;">believing my life</div><div style="text-align: left;">would be long, eternal even</div><div style="text-align: left;">and dotted with successes</div><div style="text-align: left;">to be proud of</div><div style="text-align: left;">so I'd be worthy in the eyes of someone</div><div style="text-align: left;">and therefore, above all, be loved.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, my sole task's to find</div><div style="text-align: left;">some hope to cling to,</div><div style="text-align: left;">such craving for a little more time</div><div style="text-align: left;">to live, a miracle -</div><div style="text-align: left;">because such things </div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>can </i>happen if we truly believe in them.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And I so, so want to survive.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The arbitrary onslaught</div><div style="text-align: left;">of rogue cells predict my demise:</div><div style="text-align: left;">the ultimate conflict</div><div style="text-align: left;">between tainted flesh and sharp scalpel.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh let me be brave and dwell</div><div style="text-align: left;">not on dying, nor on giving up - but on victory,</div><div style="text-align: left;">on finally defeating the enemy within...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I'm going into hospital on Monday to have an operation. I hope to visit you all again soon.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>In the meantime...have a great week, my dear friends ππ xxx</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com64tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-20808067995333641882021-05-07T13:30:00.001+01:002021-05-07T13:30:47.988+01:00THE MIND<div style="text-align: left;">A complicated mind</div><div style="text-align: left;">shaped my destiny.</div><div style="text-align: left;">That same mind fed me</div><div style="text-align: left;">the many untruths</div><div style="text-align: left;">that bred my myriad phobias.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Why did I never question them?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I ventured out into the world</div><div style="text-align: left;">I saw only reflections</div><div style="text-align: left;">of another's paranoia.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Society was a forbidding concept</div><div style="text-align: left;">filled with dangerous pitfalls, so I feared</div><div style="text-align: left;">every shadow, mistrusted every stranger's smile.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Later, within my poetry,</div><div style="text-align: left;">that mind's unfulfilled dreams found expression</div><div style="text-align: left;">in a kind of mournful angst. It also</div><div style="text-align: left;">laced my relationships with a deadly poison:</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Men are the enemy. Never trust them!"</div><div style="text-align: left;">Self fulfilling prophesy. Inward struggle.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Who am I really?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, sometimes I question</div><div style="text-align: left;">if it ever was that other mind at all,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but was actually mine all along.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Other times, I wonder if it could be</div><div style="text-align: left;">a genetic anomaly in my psyche</div><div style="text-align: left;">that so warps intuition and fuels</div><div style="text-align: left;">my quest for the inexplicable, the</div><div style="text-align: left;">impossible ideal that other mind</div><div style="text-align: left;">spent a lifetime seeking</div><div style="text-align: left;">yet never ever found.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Have I, indeed, <i>become </i>my mother?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Is</i> it possible that these thoughts</div><div style="text-align: left;">running through my head - these, now,</div><div style="text-align: left;">originated in another mind</div><div style="text-align: left;">that is continuing to influence me</div><div style="text-align: left;">from beyond the grave?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Or is it simply that I am cursed</div><div style="text-align: left;">with the kind of mind that thinks too much? π</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-90841652419365449972021-05-01T14:13:00.002+01:002021-05-07T19:23:58.481+01:00SUSPICION<div style="text-align: left;">Silence gnawed at you. And the terror</div><div style="text-align: left;">of being betrayed: a threatening dark enemy,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the piercing indifferent</div><div style="text-align: left;">destruction of bloody battle sword. After</div><div style="text-align: left;">the glowing sunrise, these were</div><div style="text-align: left;">the emotions that beset you. They filled</div><div style="text-align: left;">my vacant space, and when self-esteem</div><div style="text-align: left;">eluded you, this torment</div><div style="text-align: left;">took it's place. But I</div><div style="text-align: left;">was probably on the beach, just sunbathing</div><div style="text-align: left;">with Anna, no more immoral intent in me</div><div style="text-align: left;">than in the illicit lover</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'd never even imagined. A real lover</div><div style="text-align: left;">may have felt uneasy,</div><div style="text-align: left;">left with haste</div><div style="text-align: left;">when the grotesque malignance of your mistrust -</div><div style="text-align: left;">half victim, half inquisitor, totally</div><div style="text-align: left;">illogical and stuffed with your unexpressed past hurts -</div><div style="text-align: left;">crept relentlessly without hindrance</div><div style="text-align: left;">towards me through the sunlit streets,</div><div style="text-align: left;">through the crowded car park,</div><div style="text-align: left;">tainted my sun oil in it's brown-tinted bottle</div><div style="text-align: left;">and angrily glared at me</div><div style="text-align: left;">with the unjust accusations</div><div style="text-align: left;">that were rapidly becoming the norm.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My double life - the life you have invented</div><div style="text-align: left;">for me inside your head - is comically erotic,</div><div style="text-align: left;">is lived by an effigy wearing my face.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Monstrous allegations and emotional blackmail</div><div style="text-align: left;">have become the story of my life.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And the steps to our front door</div><div style="text-align: left;">have grown into a daunting,</div><div style="text-align: left;">treacherous mountain</div><div style="text-align: left;">that I no longer have the will to climb.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-71314858835292771042021-04-23T14:32:00.000+01:002021-04-23T14:32:14.502+01:00RED FLIP FLOPS<div style="text-align: left;">I recall walking out there,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the tide high, the English Channel choppy,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's southerly winds pushing me back</div><div style="text-align: left;">as if denying access to Hurst Castle -</div><div style="text-align: left;">demonstration of Nature's superior power.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sudden doubt. </div><div style="text-align: left;">My last memory </div><div style="text-align: left;">of my red flip flops, traversing the shingle spit.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was staring at the distant castle, I guess.</div><div style="text-align: left;">An intrepid explorer full of fervour: me, </div><div style="text-align: left;">but without my agoraphobic handicap.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just me and the sharp pebbles, a conscious union -</div><div style="text-align: left;">as if my rapidly disintegrating, unsuitable footwear</div><div style="text-align: left;">represented the will of stone consciousness,</div><div style="text-align: left;">was the monument's entry requirement.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My cut and bruised feet</div><div style="text-align: left;">a symbol of pilgrimage,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a wordless but satisfying communication</div><div style="text-align: left;">with the shingle.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Offering my blood, for the thin tongue</div><div style="text-align: left;">of the spit to devour hungrily.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A sacrifice,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's significance way beyond my comprehension</div><div style="text-align: left;">at the time, but filed in memory's archive</div><div style="text-align: left;">for later interpretation. It was like</div><div style="text-align: left;">primitive man trying to decipher</div><div style="text-align: left;">modern mathematics.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Impossible.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As I finally achieved the Grail of my quest,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's mystique brought effective analgesia</div><div style="text-align: left;">to mutilated feet...I was utterly enthralled.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It was well worth the pain.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Perhaps it is merely an old structure to most,</div><div style="text-align: left;">too lost in time to make it relevant today.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But to me it was <i>alive, </i>was crowded</div><div style="text-align: left;">with all those who'd dwelt within it's walls</div><div style="text-align: left;">down the centuries - and, of course,</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's most famous prisoner:</div><div style="text-align: left;">the Cavalier figurehead, Charles I.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh how dashing a character,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in white lace and frills - I</div><div style="text-align: left;">watched, spellbound, as he crossed</div><div style="text-align: left;">the courtyard as far as the barred gate</div><div style="text-align: left;">and then vanished into thin air.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Was I spooked?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Far from it.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All I could think of was the excruciating shame</div><div style="text-align: left;">of being in the presence of Royalty</div><div style="text-align: left;">at the very moment my flip flops, much beloved,</div><div style="text-align: left;">finally fell apart! π</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-78734500878511173992021-04-17T10:54:00.002+01:002021-04-17T10:54:46.358+01:00MYSTIC<div style="text-align: left;">I</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There is a country cottage,</div><div style="text-align: left;">surrounded by tall pine trees,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">that has a small front room</div><div style="text-align: left;">where I came into this world</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">with a strangled cry -</div><div style="text-align: left;">my first lungful of air. It was</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">painful, they said, that birth</div><div style="text-align: left;">so reluctantly endured</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">by as unmaternal a mother</div><div style="text-align: left;">as they come. But</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">my small white face,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so wrinkly and dimpled,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">forged an instant bond</div><div style="text-align: left;">with a doting father</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">who'd been longing so for a daughter.</div><div style="text-align: left;">What I remember most</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">is the blinding light</div><div style="text-align: left;">from the window, so white</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and prophetic of a lifetime</div><div style="text-align: left;">to come desperately seeking</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">the light in everything,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the Spirit within:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mum, Dad and the midwife initially,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but without means to explain it -</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">well, not in words anyway. Outside</div><div style="text-align: left;">summer lasted for millennia, with clusters</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">of laburnum blooms. I vividly recall</div><div style="text-align: left;">the heady fragrance and it's sun yellow</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">mesmerising hue - and the fact</div><div style="text-align: left;">that it was too high to touch</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">led to ferocious tantrums and</div><div style="text-align: left;">my refusal to be photographed beneath it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">II</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I fell in love yesterday,</div><div style="text-align: left;">and was astounded by the transformation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I appeared radiant, a light</div><div style="text-align: left;">in my eyes gazed back </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">from my image</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the bedroom mirror</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and a secret smile</div><div style="text-align: left;">danced about my lips.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">III</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">He and I touched hearts, and</div><div style="text-align: left;">through the metaphor - a <i>connected</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">feeling deep inside - </div><div style="text-align: left;">I fell pregnant with the sun:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>all this light I give to you!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the silence beyond words</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I held his presence -</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">unknown to him, unknowable</div><div style="text-align: left;">in fact, because</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">there were just too many light years</div><div style="text-align: left;">stretching the infinity between us.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-2907780394446122072021-04-11T10:17:00.000+01:002021-04-11T10:17:13.929+01:00VOID<p><i>A poem for today...</i></p><p><br /></p><p>I</p><div style="text-align: left;">The rain's been worse than ever this winter,</div><div style="text-align: left;">the river spewing out onto the floodplain</div><div style="text-align: left;">and into too many front doors. It feels uneasy,</div><div style="text-align: left;">like living with an unexploded time bomb,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">too precarious. The canal's banks</div><div style="text-align: left;">are lined with barges, whose owners </div><div style="text-align: left;">are somewhere else. Even the tow path,</div><div style="text-align: left;">usually packed with joggers, cyclists</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and dog walkers, lies silent and deserted.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's quite eerie here in the drizzly mist. There is</div><div style="text-align: left;">a sense of dereliction. And I wish, like</div><div style="text-align: left;">the summer kayakers, to be elsewhere too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">II</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">An excess of knocks has left me paranoid -</div><div style="text-align: left;">although some men, it seems,</div><div style="text-align: left;">are drawn to that quirkiness in me,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">at least for the short term. Loss</div><div style="text-align: left;">precipitates a descent into desperation - that state</div><div style="text-align: left;">which leads only to the next blunder</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">involving over-dependency. Emotional intelligence</div><div style="text-align: left;">gives way to fanatically searching </div><div style="text-align: left;">in the most inappropriate places</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">for a kind of idyllic love</div><div style="text-align: left;">that could never exist in reality -</div><div style="text-align: left;">until that burning need</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">inside me drives yet another</div><div style="text-align: left;">substitute away. Mere resemblance</div><div style="text-align: left;">will never be enough. I see that now.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">III</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I cherish memories of that last summer beside the canal.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Cool shade, beneath trees reflected</div><div style="text-align: left;">in the still water below: another, reversed world.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It seemed our happiness would never end. </div><div style="text-align: left;">Such joy to be canoing there with you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We existed in pure bliss. All day the sun</div><div style="text-align: left;">beat down and butterflies fluttered</div><div style="text-align: left;">around us. Rowing requires effort in the heat,</div><div style="text-align: left;">you have to be prepared to sweat.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, the canal is too poignant. A memorial to us.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">IV</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In the dead of night, his arms</div><div style="text-align: left;">never soothe the hurt. The moon</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">enchants, but only the sun</div><div style="text-align: left;">sustains life. Now, the mornings</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">are a vanished lover. Cold emptiness,</div><div style="text-align: left;">a <i>Dear Jane </i>note on a pillow. Tears</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">are a dripping tap. I crave</div><div style="text-align: left;">some permanence, but I know</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">nothing except the pain: the flood</div><div style="text-align: left;">and it's brutal destruction.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">V</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'll think of you when summer returns</div><div style="text-align: left;">and the floods have dried up. I'll be</div><div style="text-align: left;">canoeing on the canal again, only</div><div style="text-align: left;">this time alone. Stopping off</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">as we always used to, at the pub,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'll sip white wine and listen</div><div style="text-align: left;">to your favourite song. It'll hurt,</div><div style="text-align: left;">God knows, it will. When you died,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I tried to replace you, to fill again</div><div style="text-align: left;">the void you left. You were, <i>are, </i>my sunlight;</div><div style="text-align: left;">my self-esteem. Without you</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am less than nothing...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But they're all telling me</div><div style="text-align: left;">that I <i>have </i>to go on living, that <i>I</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">am worth something in my own right.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh I know they mean well, but</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">how can I possibly move on</div><div style="text-align: left;">with such a gaping, weeping hole</div><div style="text-align: left;">where my heart used to be?</div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-9862213885181583952021-03-27T11:59:00.003+00:002021-03-27T11:59:56.099+00:00HI EVERYONE<div style="text-align: left;">Just wanted to convey my most heartfelt thanks for all your kind comments. They are so very much appreciated!ππ</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am currently dealing with multiple health issues, so am to and from hospital quite a bit.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I hope to visit you all again as soon as I can, as I'm missing you all so much.π</div><div style="text-align: left;">Well, have a fabulous weekend everyone...and stay safe and happy xxx</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-89650189512310043412021-02-06T10:31:00.001+00:002021-02-07T10:58:16.255+00:00PANDEMIC<div style="text-align: left;"><span><a name='more'></a></span>Within the grip of deadly pandemic</div><div style="text-align: left;">the dying suffer, beyond help of medic</div><div style="text-align: left;">or concept of luck; gasping for breath,</div><div style="text-align: left;">each personal effect will soon become relic.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Their lives almost done, the final task</div><div style="text-align: left;">is to say "goodbye" beneath stifling mask</div><div style="text-align: left;">before the inevitable coma overcomes</div><div style="text-align: left;">the will to pray and for miracle ask.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A unit in Critical Care painted blue -</div><div style="text-align: left;">the shade they deem a healing hue -</div><div style="text-align: left;">appears to be failing to fulfill it's role.</div><div style="text-align: left;">In these upsidedown times, is <i>anything </i>true?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The image of a ward on the TV screen,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so very heart-rending and tragic a scene,</div><div style="text-align: left;">profoundly touches my heart until</div><div style="text-align: left;">at this hateful virus in angst I scream.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Antiseptic's aroma fills the air -</div><div style="text-align: left;">though none is <i>here - </i>I stumble to a chair</div><div style="text-align: left;">before I faint, overcome by the horror</div><div style="text-align: left;">of so much death and emotion laid bare.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Though these poor Souls are not my kin,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I feel all their anguish deep within</div><div style="text-align: left;">and mourn their passing, every one.</div><div style="text-align: left;">How I wish we could soon this battle win.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So I place all my faith in a prophecy made</div><div style="text-align: left;">by our Ancestors back in a darker Age:</div><div style="text-align: left;">that, when under threat, Arthur will return</div><div style="text-align: left;">to quash the invader with his trusted knights' aid.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh <i>could </i>it be truth? Or just wishful thought?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Well I happen to believe what in youth I was taught.</div><div style="text-align: left;">It's worth a try - with so many lives lost,</div><div style="text-align: left;">our victory's already been too dearly bought.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Hb1JxNdirHLxgRac8l5bjTtwiYOGdfcFzZCgMB05TV3ZrkiLACnsTwlJ2hmoly6n0w_I5phWVITX0neyfDyqIebS5c5AKOou-PBiWhqhpsRH7DVl22e-lXlNpHHNb3aVMHVNsDAxGdbr/s2048/IMG_20210203_161241.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1491" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Hb1JxNdirHLxgRac8l5bjTtwiYOGdfcFzZCgMB05TV3ZrkiLACnsTwlJ2hmoly6n0w_I5phWVITX0neyfDyqIebS5c5AKOou-PBiWhqhpsRH7DVl22e-lXlNpHHNb3aVMHVNsDAxGdbr/w291-h400/IMG_20210203_161241.jpg" width="291" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">King Arthur</div><div><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-43758538743693687422021-01-29T14:03:00.000+00:002021-01-29T14:03:25.437+00:00ON READING EMILY BRONTE<div style="text-align: left;">It began with a copy of <i>Wuthering Heights.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Echoes of intrigue lept out of the pages.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I felt them weave themselves into my being.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Another's creation. But where is she now?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Death cannot erase greatness. It is</div><div style="text-align: left;">her immortality, her irresistibility. Why</div><div style="text-align: left;">not before? Had I lived then, could I</div><div style="text-align: left;">have known her, perhaps better understood?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Imagination. So she first entranced me with those miniscule</div><div style="text-align: left;">booklets: Gondal resurrected in my psyche.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, when I move, her pen moves with me.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just out of sight, she directs my life, ever watchful.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And if, as she claims, Heathcliff truly loves Cathy,</div><div style="text-align: left;">then what <i>kind </i>of love is so obsessive</div><div style="text-align: left;">that it rips both Souls to shreds</div><div style="text-align: left;">and condemns them to eternal unrest?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Or is it <i>my </i>unrest - her words merely evoking</div><div style="text-align: left;">my deepest, most tormented desires?</div><div style="text-align: left;">If, as I suspect, I <i>am </i>Cathy; then I <i>must </i>find him -</div><div style="text-align: left;">he is the prize within the maze of words.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But, why should I read, when <i>living it </i>is more persuasive?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Or long to touch, when <i>feeling </i>without touching</div><div style="text-align: left;">is so unexpected, so exquisite and so rare?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Today, his proximity. Ecstasy is in the air.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-46407175990199290072021-01-23T10:52:00.001+00:002021-01-23T10:54:12.405+00:00VISIONARY<div style="text-align: left;">Call me boring, but I'm never predictable</div><div style="text-align: left;">when I sit down to write. What is it </div><div style="text-align: left;">about that particular activity</div><div style="text-align: left;">that triggers such dramatic transformation?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Weekdays, admittedly, I'm conformity's slave,</div><div style="text-align: left;">with kohl-lined eyes and high heeled shoes -</div><div style="text-align: left;">ostensibly <i>fitting in </i>with society's expectations. You know,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">it's taken me twenty years to perfect</div><div style="text-align: left;">this duel identity - the near seamless balance</div><div style="text-align: left;">between civil servant and poetic visionary.</div><div style="text-align: left;">No one has ever known <i>me, </i>not really.</div><div style="text-align: left;">As soon as they think they do, I confound them.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I cannot fully live up to another's ideals,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so I vanish into thin air; feeling my way,</div><div style="text-align: left;">intuitively led, into the Lands Adventurous;</div><div style="text-align: left;">deeper and deeper until my head spins</div><div style="text-align: left;">with a million and one impressions</div><div style="text-align: left;">that condense themselves into my pen.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And I just scribble, scribble; letting them flow</div><div style="text-align: left;">unedited, cascading like a waterfall</div><div style="text-align: left;">of emotions issuing from the memory banks</div><div style="text-align: left;">of the Cosmos itself. Perhaps</div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm a part of that macrocosm - or, maybe,</div><div style="text-align: left;">simply it's messenger. Either way,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am mere flesh and blood - but inside</div><div style="text-align: left;">something colossal is stirring:</div><div style="text-align: left;">an irresistible call to the Quest</div><div style="text-align: left;">for universal empathic connection.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>So sorry everyone, but I'm running late this week...will catch up with you all tomorrow hopefully! Have a super day xxx</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-73231376986587281922021-01-15T13:47:00.000+00:002021-01-15T13:47:21.154+00:00SCUM<p><i>My apologies, guys - but I simply HAD to vent my fury after seeing this on the TV news...</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><div style="text-align: left;">You conned her out of her savings -</div><div style="text-align: left;">a lifetime of toil erased.</div><div style="text-align: left;">You stole her independence</div><div style="text-align: left;">without a care for the effect</div><div style="text-align: left;">on her sense of dignity.</div><div style="text-align: left;">All you've left her with is fear - of people,</div><div style="text-align: left;">of even leaving her home. A frail</div><div style="text-align: left;">elderly lady of ninety-two.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh yes, such easy prey</div><div style="text-align: left;">for you, wasn't she - to</div><div style="text-align: left;">pose as a doctor and inject</div><div style="text-align: left;">into her arm God knows what,</div><div style="text-align: left;">professing it to be a Covid vaccination</div><div style="text-align: left;">and then charge her a fortune for the <i>privilege.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">And, furthermore, to have the audacity</div><div style="text-align: left;">to return again and demand extra payment!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh you're so cocky, aren't you,</div><div style="text-align: left;">so fiendishly <i>clever...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Ah, but you were caught on camera.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Yes, <i>you - </i>you heartless, worthless <i>scum!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Think your sweatshirt hood pulled up</div><div style="text-align: left;">will protect your cowardly identity?</div><div style="text-align: left;">No chance!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just think on this...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There is a Universal Judiciary System,</div><div style="text-align: left;">way above the scope of mere CCTV</div><div style="text-align: left;">and earthly Judges and courthouses,</div><div style="text-align: left;">which observes all, is all-knowing -</div><div style="text-align: left;">and it is closing in around you.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Better be afraid, moron, because</div><div style="text-align: left;">there's no escaping the consequences</div><div style="text-align: left;">of your inhuman criminal activities.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They'll rebound on you</div><div style="text-align: left;">as precisely as an echo, only</div><div style="text-align: left;">ten-fold.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And just one more thing, creep,</div><div style="text-align: left;">before I conclude.</div><div style="text-align: left;">A quick check to ask</div><div style="text-align: left;">how you're sleeping at night?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Have you noticed and changes yet</div><div style="text-align: left;">in your dreamlife? No?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Well you will. Believe this, </div><div style="text-align: left;">you <i>will!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Soon it will begin: the demons</div><div style="text-align: left;">rising up out of the bowels</div><div style="text-align: left;">of your nightmares' darkest recesses.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And they won't ever go away.</div><div style="text-align: left;">They'll pursue you day and night,</div><div style="text-align: left;">will eventually drive you insane.</div><div style="text-align: left;">What, then, of your ill-gotten gains?</div><div style="text-align: left;">What use will they be</div><div style="text-align: left;">when you're locked away</div><div style="text-align: left;">in your lonely, claustrophobic,</div><div style="text-align: left;">padded cell?</div><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-11345020332221878792021-01-09T14:42:00.001+00:002021-01-16T15:17:44.389+00:00VALVE<div style="text-align: left;">The replacement valve that saved him </div><div style="text-align: left;">was crafted from tissue of pig, so</div><div style="text-align: left;">he no longer ate pork. It seemed inappropriate </div><div style="text-align: left;">to be devouring his benefactor's relatives. </div><div style="text-align: left;">The heart specialist concurred,</div><div style="text-align: left;">but for a different reason - namely</div><div style="text-align: left;">that less animal fat would mean </div><div style="text-align: left;">a much healthier cardiac system.</div><div style="text-align: left;">He also developed a strange compulsion</div><div style="text-align: left;">to visit pig farms - to the extent of once </div><div style="text-align: left;">sneaking into a pigsty and sleeping there overnight,</div><div style="text-align: left;">just to gain an insight into how it feels to be a pig!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Perhaps, one day, he could even learn </div><div style="text-align: left;">to communicate with them, a bit like</div><div style="text-align: left;">the legendary Doctor Doolittle!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes he'd sit in front of a mirror</div><div style="text-align: left;">and almost convince himself that his features</div><div style="text-align: left;">we're gradually changing, were becoming</div><div style="text-align: left;">more and more pig-like: his nose snout shaped</div><div style="text-align: left;">and his ears like those of a pig.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And he dared not admit to anyone</div><div style="text-align: left;">that he had an increasing fear</div><div style="text-align: left;">that he'd wake one morning, to discover</div><div style="text-align: left;">he could no longer speak, only grunt - and that</div><div style="text-align: left;">he had trotters instead of hands and feet!</div><div style="text-align: left;">And <i>even worse - </i>what if</div><div style="text-align: left;">the metamorphosis eventually became total?</div><div style="text-align: left;">What then?</div><div style="text-align: left;">He considered his wife and children, his friends.</div><div style="text-align: left;">What would <i>they </i>think?</div><div style="text-align: left;">Would they even realise <i>he </i>was <i>him?</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">He would have no way of letting them know he was.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And what if he should fall</div><div style="text-align: left;">into the hands of a butcher? Surely</div><div style="text-align: left;">then there would be the horrifying possibility</div><div style="text-align: left;">that his family may inadvertently consume <i>him! </i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">And still, today, the paranoia continues to escalate...</div><div style="text-align: left;">for there is no escaping</div><div style="text-align: left;"> the pig DNA inside him. ππ</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-27298275313328181712020-12-31T11:40:00.000+00:002020-12-31T11:40:27.509+00:00THE GARDEN AT 2AM<p> <i>For my late Father, with much love...</i></p><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Stepping out here into a parallel universe.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My outstretched hands locate an unsettling void</div><div style="text-align: left;">where the cabin should be. At least, it <i>was </i>here -</div><div style="text-align: left;">but now the spikyness of the giant yucca </div><div style="text-align: left;">is prickling my palms. Familiarity,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I begin to realise, is mostly expectation.</div><div style="text-align: left;">My garden's a foreign language only half understood,</div><div style="text-align: left;">translating indistinct shapes into imaginary monsters:</div><div style="text-align: left;">I ought to know my rose bush, but a shroud</div><div style="text-align: left;">of blurry grey distorts it something menacing.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Only this afternoon it was a mass of yellow blooms</div><div style="text-align: left;">and gradually, now I'm forcing my eyes to adjust to the dark,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I see faint pale orbs appear and then fade -</div><div style="text-align: left;">welcome signposts in this infinite gloom.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And towering above me, the oak tree,</div><div style="text-align: left;">jet black against the moonless sky, many-limbed, half human;</div><div style="text-align: left;">it's gigantic bony claws reaching for me...</div><div style="text-align: left;">old childhood fears once more possess my receptive mind.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Suddenly I need you here beside me</div><div style="text-align: left;">to allay my terror - just as you always did so long ago.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Pulses fear-racing, I call out to you,</div><div style="text-align: left;">firing my earnest entreaty across the unseen veil.</div><div style="text-align: left;">But it's syllables are lost in the mists of time,</div><div style="text-align: left;">are now no more than mere echoes of what once was...</div><div style="text-align: left;">and I miss you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Oh how I miss you...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">HAPPY NEW YEAR ππΎπππ XXX</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfOaTe4jx5fWWlDa1MZZ1hKsyScwCdGOeC1PyOmcLExvJ-w4nCgnUZgYFO2yLBrarJKYGLyfz1iqVmUtNy8UxEHinmzXzQLbgWUndQhf8cDmK7bVrH9G5ELPhWrpn7laISquoyjEA09CI/s2048/IMG_3015.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpfOaTe4jx5fWWlDa1MZZ1hKsyScwCdGOeC1PyOmcLExvJ-w4nCgnUZgYFO2yLBrarJKYGLyfz1iqVmUtNy8UxEHinmzXzQLbgWUndQhf8cDmK7bVrH9G5ELPhWrpn7laISquoyjEA09CI/s320/IMG_3015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-84285113504814214012020-12-24T12:15:00.004+00:002020-12-29T14:49:30.784+00:00AN ORDINARY SUNDAY<div style="text-align: left;">An ordinary Sunday in December.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Here I am without an inkling</div><div style="text-align: left;">on a Sunday, thinking it normal.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Here I wait in an endless gap</div><div style="text-align: left;">between wishing and fulfilment.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here I am, without prophetic sight,</div><div style="text-align: left;">hearing the collective engine roar</div><div style="text-align: left;">while consumed by anticipation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here is <i>my <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sergio_P%C3%A9rez">Checo</a></i>, starting fifth on the grid.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Rounding a bend...CRASH!...spinning off.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now last. My stomach churning.</div><div style="text-align: left;">NO! Oh <i>no!! </i>All hope lost.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am crushed, <i>not again!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hang on a minute - where's your faith?</div><div style="text-align: left;">He's good with tyres and at overtaking.</div><div style="text-align: left;">What kind of fan are you</div><div style="text-align: left;">to imagine the worst? LOOK -</div><div style="text-align: left;">he's already fourth from the back!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My Mexican Hero, streaming through the pack - </div><div style="text-align: left;">he's third now, oh <i>dare </i>I hope?</div><div style="text-align: left;">A ten year wait, already too long.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Willing, hoping, praying that today's his day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">HE'S JUST TAKEN THE LEAD!!</div><div style="text-align: left;">The <i>go go go </i>of adrenaline rush - my heart</div><div style="text-align: left;">in sync with his - pounding.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Oh <i>please </i>Checo, no mistakes now!</div><div style="text-align: left;">Such euphoria. Feeling for him,</div><div style="text-align: left;">willing him on...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">THE CHEQUERED FLAG!!</div><div style="text-align: left;">He's done it - <i>he's done it!!!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;">The sixth of December, twenty-twenty,</div><div style="text-align: left;">in Bahrain...a Sunday</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so extraordinary, so spectacular,</div><div style="text-align: left;">that I'll remember for the rest of my life!</div><div style="text-align: left;">YAY!! π²π½ππ²π½ππ²π½ππ²π½ππ²π½ππππ</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Congrats, Checo, on your first F1 victory!!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Here's hoping for many more next year with your new team, Red Bull πππ</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">SEASONS GREETINGS EVERYONE...STAY SAFE AND HAPPY, AND HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME!! XXXXXXX</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9177935673290025151.post-74267601079059237022020-12-20T10:23:00.002+00:002020-12-20T10:23:39.035+00:00SENTENCE<div style="text-align: left;">That day I travelled to find an answer,</div><div style="text-align: left;">I shook with fear as I sought out</div><div style="text-align: left;">the unfamiliar hospital. Then, when I found it</div><div style="text-align: left;">I stood outside, trying hard to calm my raging nerves.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Inside, a Covid-deserted waiting room,</div><div style="text-align: left;">walls covered in red warning signs: <i>wear a mask,</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>social distancing. </i>Soon, a nurse ushered me</div><div style="text-align: left;">into a room that felt like doom.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Cold seeped in from an open window.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I shivered. The <i>Judge </i>was about to pass sentence.</div><div style="text-align: left;">I sat through eternity. In the silence between</div><div style="text-align: left;">I wished myself a million miles away</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">and not feeling so vulnerable, so flawed, so inferior -</div><div style="text-align: left;">but to be lounging instead in front of the TV</div><div style="text-align: left;">and sipping coffee, buried in scatter cushions; rather</div><div style="text-align: left;">than hearing the term "further investigation" define my future...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Phew, am I glad that is over...for now! </i>π</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Ygrainehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00300519608303898969noreply@blogger.com44