Life

Sometimes I feel as though I don't know quite where I fit in this universe.

Almost as though I am living in a dream or dreaming of the world I am living in.

I wake often unable to tell the difference from real life and the dreams I must have had.

Unable to find things, as I must have put them away on in dream state.

A sudden sense of deja vu overtakes a moment, haven't I done this before?

but where and when?

Am I just going through the motions?

How do I tell the difference between the actual and the perceived?

I want to wake up and make the most of the day.

To grasp the precious time with both hands and squeeze it dry.

To live a worthwhile life.

But how do I do this, what is goal, where is the end line?

I though once out of the monotony of dirty nappies and night feeds,

I would start to see the difference in the days.

But sometimes I feel that I am in a hamsters wheel,

forced to live out everyday again and again and again.

Maybe this is why I find some much joy in the changing seasons.

In the small things that fill my day.

Marching to the beat of my Drum

 

I used to be in a marching band

I used to play the kazoo

yep that awful, awful gold thing

that no one knew what to do

I used to wear a uniform

with frilly knickers underneath

I used to wear a big white hat

with a chain that hit my teeth

Green and white or Red and blue

The uniform depended on what you do

I had gold epaulets and a sash with medals on

My mum and dad were very proud and used to cheer me on

I had a feather in my hat

knee high socks that just wernt cool

This was the secret that I kept

From my friends in school

The thing is that I was good at it

I won lots of trophies and awards

My unform now is all fornlorn

in my mothers drawers

Twice a week we used to practice

in the old pier hall

until the floor became rotton

And the boards began to fall

We walked for miles and miles

not always in weaqther all that fine

I was promoted to Band Major

I swang my mace and ensured that we all kept time

I used to be in a bank you know

It wasn't cool, it wasn't hip

I used to be in a band you know

I aren't any more, so tootle pip

All that Remains

White on white, raised and hard

So obviously foreign in their origin

Not flowing, not organic

Just Jagged and sharp

Like quiet footsteps on a hard floor

Pattering against the soft smooth skin

puckered, raw and taught 

Alien in the lunar landscape

gripping pain, prevents rest and sleep

no amount of rubbing can realise me

I press against my muscles with my fingers

Too tense they refuse to give

electric currants pulse through the wires

still no release from the incessant pull

warm swimming feeling from opiates in mind

pain penetrates all options

I sink in to the deep warm water

hoping for some realise

Deeper holding my breath

stifling the moans from ever increasing pain

The house stands quiet

the only noise the gentle fizzing of the refrigerator

But in my ears buzzes the throb of unyielding pain

Muscles refusing to give

The clock ticks in my mind

1.20am, I hear gentle snoring

not mine

no fear, for seep will come I tell myself

3.44am, still no release

I am in its grip, the iron fist

to apprehensive to make a sound

halting the groan in my throat

My family sleep soundly

I will not wake them

They have been through so much will me

This I must cope with on my own

I focus all my energy on resisting the pain

try to relax, to resist

but still it is there

never ceasing

Even though my family surround me

I am in solitude with my pain

Soon the sun will rise

but the pain wont dim

A smile I will put on my face

A spring in my step

to greet the day with my boys

but ultimately pain is all that remains

It is so hard to put in to words the pain that I feel, it is not constant and ever present, thankfully it comes and go.  Mainly coming on a night in my shoulders, a terrible unrelenting pain.  When it comes it is hard to find anything that really eases it, other than the warm hands of my wonderful husband, but I can not and will not wake him selfishly, especially when he is so tired after a hard week at work and home.

So on nights like tonight.  I take my pain killers and try to sleep, when it doesn't come then it is the tens machine and a bath,  some nights it works, others it leaves me desolate and alone.  Tonight is one of those nights.  I have tried reading, warm milk, lavender, heat on the area, but there is no relief to be found, so I will wait for the dawn and hope the day brings better things.

Writing Workshop

The Yellow top of a ride on car

A red plastic tractor that hasn't gone far

The sandpit lid sits all forlorn

For no children are out this morn

A whirligig, not spins or holds

Any gently drying clothes

The children's slide, swing and balls

Still hiding under previous icy snow falls

But there is signs of life and hope

In my garden with its slope

A robin red breast pecks away

On a bird feeder filled today

The Brussels sprouts stand proud and tall

Some leeks too survived the snow fall

Inside, all warm I scheme and plan

for spring to come and lend a hand

For this winter has been hard

Snow is still falling on this yard

This was inspired by the view out of my kitchen window, for the writing workshop at Sleep is for the weak