Wednesday, 23 July 2014

Relationship Difficulties...


I hate you!
With a passion.
You deny that you know me, 
Yet we were so close not so long ago…

I knew you intimately…
your every detail was seared on my brain.
I made up rhymes, 
used patterns,
gave you a name I could not forget…
I created you 
and breathed life into you.
Without me, you could not exist!
and then I did the unforgivable and forgot, 
and now I am shut out like a stranger
given the virtual cold shoulder.

The worst of it is, 
that I know the failings are all on my part 
so please do not send me to virtual Coventry,
for that ring road is a punishment to great for me to bear.

Look, just because I don't remember the detail..
Please do not take it personally… 
for that would be an absurdity.
This is not of my choosing, 
I am the one that is losing, 
and I will not be my position abusing
If you force me to take that irrevocable step
and admit that  the very thing I swore not to forget, 
that the foolproof method for remembering
has failed 
and before you know it I will end our relationship
for ever.

Just
one
key
press
is
all
it
will
take.

our separation will be final 
and I will be forced to chose your replacement.

Look on the bright side, 
I will keep your replacement secret, 
and you may take some comfort from the fact 
that I am in a persistent pattern of short term relationships.  
Swearing to each successor that they are the one that will not be replaced, 
that I will treasure each detail of their identity 
and never 
never 
never 
forget.

Give me a clue,
or we are through
Password, I hate you.
Whoever you are!
You are history….

...now that is a good idea, 
which queen shall I pick
 - will it be Anne or Vic….

When time stands still...the freedom of summer


The hands stop 
at the top of the clock
and there they will stay,
unmoving 
observing
waiting
Until 2nd September,
when they will start to move forward once more.

The old school year has ended,
and before you lies summer in all its glory,.
Right now we look forward with longing to warm days on the beach,
they lie enticingly within our reach.
Old familiar haunts to revisit,
surprising us with how our memories differ from reality?
New places to discover,
more experiences to store within our memory banks.

Six weeks of life,
not ruled by the clock and academic expectation.
six weeks to dawdle, dream and dally.
Six weeks to be
(apart from one art homework
closeups of fruit - colour, texture and variety)
Educationalist argue against this unstructured freedom,
claiming the time is at the expense of academic progress.
I say long live the six week summer holiday
long live the freedom to explore and marvel
This is a gift to every generation.
Before the new academic year is here and the hands on that clock move forward once more.
Until that moment the clock has stopped.
The old year has ended, but the new year has not begun.
So this truly is the season of the midnight sun!
Six weeks of summer,
with all the vagaries of the British weather!! 
Traffic jams, juggling for parking, and ice cream melting...
wasps and creepy crawlies,
and dogs barking on the beach
lie tantalisingly within reach.

Despite not having to be ready by a certain time,  
when I awake and glance at the clock, 
it reads exactly the same time as the alarm would be set for - 
the latest time I can get up and still ensure my daughter is not late!
I smile, turn over, and savour the freedom of summer.

Wednesday, 16 July 2014

Pointless?


Silence.

Can you hear what I do not say?
The thoughts that remain in my head.
Unsaid.

A blank page, 
may wait an age 
for my pen to rampage 
across its pristine surface.
Spilling words, that tumble, one after another, jostling for space.
Ending the line in an untidy heap.
Surprising me by their fluency.
Then stuttering to a halt mid senta…, 
as I realise 
I have once more sanitised 
all that I think and feel, 
belittled and contained my thoughts and ideas, 
rendered them impotent, 
by my own grammatical inaccuracy.

iI's easier to go and play a game,
than remain
trying to find a voice to the words that beat within my head. 
In a language not constrained 
by the straitjacket of conventionality.

I despair at my own self-centredness. 
I had no desire to write about me,
and my weakesses…
after all they are plain for all to see,
and a cause of much lack of harmony, 
as I blunder through my day,
letting slip words I regret,
but cannot recall.
Lacking the wisdom to know when to speak
and when to keep my own counsel.

Maybe I should just admit defeat and draw.
Just one problem, I am worse at drawing than I am at writing...