Proud lineage

I have a lineage that goes back two thousand years

Bred from governors, senators and kings

Blood of warriors through my body sing like sirens in the ocean wide

It is my spirit, it is my pride

I have the blood of witches too

Of wholesome living old and new

A little secret here and there

A silent culture that you have scared

My heart is ancestral and dances their beat

I am proud of who I am

So let me bleat

I wear the past as my clothes

I share with you, through my prose

And through my prose, you shall know me well

That I release my secrets from my cell

And all that is me is proudly shown

So you can see what I’ve known

And what I’ve known is vast and wide

And this is why it is my pride

Damned blasted poet

Damned blasted poet

Always writing her emotions

Flooding us in her tears that have formed giant oceans

Drowning us in the waves of her heartache and despair

Throwing out disharmony without ever a care!

Is there no uplifting prose that she could ever write?

Or is everything we read about yet another fight?

Can she not write about the roses or the birds that sing in spring?

Can she not write about the weather or a shiny wedding ring?

Must she always write so dull about agony and pain?

Must she always fly above us and entrench us in the rain?

Damned blasted poet

I beg you stop your whimpers and your gripes

We love your prose and literature but please write other types!

Crushed like a lemon

Crushed like a lemon

Made sour by broken promises

I pucker back my disappointment

I swallow my harsh words

My mouth, dry with distaste

Another dream smashed to pieces

Another lie spoken to allay a fate

A fantasy caterwauling torment to my ears

For I know you can’t help yourself

For another snow globe dream splintering my hands

Because you had a dream I’d stay

Being too technical

I’ve never really been formally educated to understand what a vignette is, a lyrical piece of writing, a prose, a poem vs rhyme or sonnet and what constitutes flash fiction, micro-fiction and so forth; but I do try to learn, even though I don’t understand it.

I want to understand it, but I think it goes in one ear and out the other; I just can’t seem to absorb technicalities.

I may incorrectly be calling things on my blog “A vignette” when it isn’t, mistaking vignettes for mere philosophy and even putting philosophical prose amongst fiction rather than non-fiction without actually understanding that my philosophy was in prose format.

I don’t really know what I am talking about here, can you tell?

I am trying to be smart, but I really should try and give up trying to do things like that and just get on with it and hope for the best!

I am for all sense and purposes a creative person, its art no matter what form it is – why worry?  I could be ground-breaking, doing something new and all the worry about trying to do something old could ruin it all because I was trying to be smart and technical about it.

Or I could just confuse everyone and never get anywhere…

That could happen too…

Thanks for reading…

03:01am 24th February 2023

Garden of dreams

Dreams are supposed to be sweet like honey and not as dark as treacle

Dreams are supposed to wipe the tears of the day away

Not make you dream of greyer days and things that make you scream

Dreams are supposed to be good for you

Dreams are supposed to be your sanctuary

They are not supposed to bring you fear at all

So why then, do my dreams make me feel like I am falling on my knees at the mercy of the universe?

Why do my dreams feel like a curse?

Shut away in a miser’s purse, with nothing to spend at all in the garden of dreams…

Kiss the past away

A soft revelation spoke to my heart

An angelic spell put me into repose

Caterpillar you must sleep

Your old self you must dispose

A new dawn waits for you and you are not ready yet

Sleep well my daughter of the dawn

Your new life has been set

Tomorrow you will wake with beautiful wings

And you will fly so high

A new life will make you sing

There is no reason to be shy

So colourful your life will be

You came from shades of grey

So lay down your sleepy head

And kiss the past away

Peace amongst the roses

Dedicated to my prose, I sniff and smell the roses

They softly tickle my nose, the soft and velvet posies

I read my stories under them, pink petals they fall down

And cover my little pages, in the rose’s crown

I smell the pretty roses, their scent is bitter sweet

I sit amongst the roses, peace is quite a treat

I snuggle into reading; I sit and while the way

I want it to last all summer, but it won’t even last the day

My dream home poem

My dream home

Would have a kitchen with a soft place for my friends to sit and drink green teas

Whilst I make biscuits, talking about the garden and recipes

My dream home

Would have a nook for me, where I can write in tranquillity

With books all around and a little door that opens into the garden for the little paws

I will have a cushion fort that’s canopied with lace

So I can laze some afternoons, my perfect reading place

Rainbows decorate the wall for me as the crystals shine them through

With all the colours that can be in every single hue

My dream home

Is a happy place

Where animals and children be

So we can live together in perfect harmony

My dream home

Will be lots of fun, it will never be dull

A playroom for the children and me

And a place to sit and mull

My dream home

Will be alive, with people coming to and fro

Because they are welcome here, they’ll know

My dream home

Will have a garden, as big as you can get

With lots of different gardens, an adventure is always set

The children will have their playground

The animals will too

I just hope there is enough room, for my little zoo

My dream home

I will love the garden

I’d go there nearly every day

Growing vegetables and herbs like ears of corn, carrots, rosemary and bay

Growing fruits by the dozens, blueberries, apples and peach

A sensory garden for the children, where they can play and screech

I’ll have a little pool for me, where I will daily swim

Because I love the water so and it will keep me trim

My dream home

Is where the love is and daily we’ll embrace

My dream home is perfect, it’s my happy place

Devil’s feral child

I was raised like a feral child

Though my playground was a cage

I was kept away from others

I could not with others engage

I could look on and wonder

What it’s like to play

With the other children

I see from my garden each day

But never be a part of their society

Because I was never meant to be free

No one to hug me when I cried

Not when people went and died

I had to do it all alone

Alone and lonely in my home

Without any comfort or kind words

Their only touch was to hurt

Constantly berated for my heart

Don’t be weak we’ll tear you apart

Go back upstairs in your cage

No way to ever assuage the pain

Just you remember, don’t be vain!

You are the devil’s child

Don’t do it again!

Promise to Eve

I feel like the Eve to a new dawn

God has spoken “don’t be forlorn”

For he is coming soon

I don’t know where or how though

It’s a mystery to me

But God has sent this promise that he will set me free

He will make me stronger

He will love me so

And when I’ve found my Adam, I will undoubtedly know