Anyone there? — May 31, 2017
— March 24, 2017

I wanted to find you within me

I didn’t want to look aimlessly up into the stars

Wondering if you were under the same ones, somewhere

I wanted you in my bed, in the here and now

Not merely a possibility

But my very real reality

Not just to be a mere possibility of my wishful thinking

Wanted to know your voice already

Not to strain for the whispers of a ghost, not yet risen

And then, the sun came through the curtains

My eyes opened and here I am

It has been nothing but a dream

And there your face is on my pillow.




No title. — January 27, 2017

No title.

All I have

is all I have

For all I have

I’m very glad

Sometimes my blessings are plentiful

Other times, perhaps not

One thing I know I’ll never be

is ungrateful for my lot

Our gifts are ours

and ours alone

Cherish them

Treasure them

Use them

Before they are gone.

Precious – A very old poem — November 7, 2016

Precious – A very old poem

(One of the very first poems I ever wrote, loosely based upon the near death of my younger sister whom almost died from meningitis, was read the last rites, but by nothing short of a miracle managed to pull through. She is now a beautiful 25 year old woman)
I’ll keep you in this box
Locked away from the sins of the world
Your porcelain skin remains perfect
Unblemished by the worries of this existenceYou can be my perfect secret
Untouched by the hands of men
Eternal youth blesses your angelic face
As you sleep forever in this hidden place

I love you,always have,always will
Even though you lay there , so still
I refused to believe when they said you were ill

Took you away where they could not reach you
Wanting so badly to keep you happy,keep you safe
When you closed your eyes that last time
I couldn’t lose you,the one thing that’s mine

So I found the best way for us to be together
Hidden from prying eyes
My child,my baby,a tiny image of me
Snatched away from my arms
But while mother is here,you will come to no harm
When my time comes,we will finally be together

I told them right from the start you are mine.

I can’t sleep — October 31, 2016

I can’t sleep

I can’t sleep

The Scarlett letters

It is 3.08 am and I can’t sleep. I have been trying since 10pm, at some point you have to admit defeat and just occupy yourself in other ways. Listening to Radio 4, one of their afternoon dramas. Radio has been a Godsend to me in these hours of insomnia which seem to come more often of late. The hours between 1am to 5.00 am when it seems like you are the only person alive in the world; in the darkness.

What do you use to comfort you when you can’t sleep? Do you write? Or maybe you read until your lids can hold themselves up no more?  Let me know in the comments! I’d love to hear your suggestions!

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Guest — July 12, 2016
Purpose, what’s mine? — June 2, 2016

Purpose, what’s mine?

Had you once. A job, a love, a life, a home. Then something else came in to play, an addiction. That became my purpose, I guess, my sole purpose. Not a purpose that had to be thought about, or worked for, it was too easy and I slipped seamlessly into the arms of that “purpose”. There I lie still.

… — March 31, 2016

Blogging hasn’t ever really been something that has ever come easy to me. I feel like such a boring person because I don’t have any real discernible hobbies or pastimes, aside from writing.

Writing. That which I profess to love and yet have done so little of in the past two or three years. Its said that you should write what you know. The thing is, I don’t really feel like I know any subject well or deep enough to appear any form of authority or even reliable source on it. That being said, we all have some stories, just through the sheer absurdity of the human condition, which are interesting and even amusing to others. I guess I could write about those for a while, see if any inspiration is forthcoming from the feelings that remembering them brings forth?

Unfortunately, my own personal stories, the more colourful ones at least, come from previous relationships. I haven’t traveled extensively,  sky dived, nor have I done great works of charity or anything that would ever go viral on Thought Catalog. However, I have had the pleasure of some truly awkward, embarrassing and downright bizarre experiences in my dating history. So the few people that read my blog can look forward to a few chuckles (I hope) over the coming weeks as I lay bare the choice stories from my  twenties.

Thanks for reading! I look forward to trying to get back into the blogosphere!


Me. — February 5, 2016
First Sight — October 29, 2015

First Sight

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Sight.”

I can’t remember the first time that I ever read a full sentence. Since two years of age I have been able to read. My mind doesn’t throw up many memories prior to age five so I guess words, literature, have just always been there in my living memory. Reading opened up a whole new world for me as a child; helping me to escape from the real world I inhabited, but didn’t much enjoy due to various reasons. Never really able to express thoughts, feelings or ideas vocally, writing enabled me to make sense of the world as I saw it, and see it still.

I fell in love with people whom had lived, and died, hundreds of years before I was even a twinkle in my Mothers eye. Writers such as Dickens, Keats and Hardy awakened the love for storytelling within me. I had never known such passion for something. Writing, stories, poems kick started my souls journey through life. They are there for me when no-one else is, or when I am not able to let anyone into my world.

My saving grace then, now and forever.