breakfast love

Warm as the toast that pops on your plate

Hot as the tea that is Earl Grey

Soft as the butter that melts on your knife

Hard as the cheese you now start to slice

Cold as the liquid that glides down your throat

Sweet as the jam you’ve spread on croissants

Mesmerising as the strawberries succulent

Sad that this rituals come to an end

Exhilarating to think you will have it again

Angry when done there’s no time to relax

Painful the dishes you now have to wash

love ~ like breakfast ~ the most important ‘food’ of the day.

~

The sign is on one of our walls – Robyn this was for you  😉

What is it all about? nonsense number 3

writing
constant
sit tight
late night
long days
sunrise

and what should be written
passion/hate/melancholy/happiness??
words for me but for yOu
no hiding from the world
scraps of yellowed paper
journal scribblings
waste bin piled hiGH
love/sadness/death/remorse??

who understands the
couplets/depth – breadth/sonnets??
necessary? uNeccesary?
the world sees now they are my
Judge & Jury

thoughts fumble
words tumble
p
o
u
r
onto the page for
me for you for both??

what enjoyment is their had
meanderings of an unknown
what do YOU seek
when you rEad

soft words HARD words
something
inBetween

must it make sense
thought process
must it stand alone
who cares?
must it pull EmoTion
from your core

leave you puzzled

as to what I meant
do You nEEd to understand

I only know I MuSt
I know not
what’s acceptable/what isn’t
required/needed/held in high esteem
sent to trash bin sight unseen

for a writer and their mUse
meet mine – she’s on your left
we come here every night
4
our need is great
SHE shares her soul and digs dEEp into mine
clawing her way through

I write for that is what I know
feel
lust
crave
control
it iS mE

beauty

[youtube.com/watch?v=fz4MzJTeL0c]

Please hit play as you read

 

I love

bare feet walking on wet sand

lying on softened grass

covering myself in blankets

staring into an open fire

telling you I love you

AND
listening to a symphony of insects

morning mist latching onto trees

walking without a destination

dancing in the summer rain

watching lovers holding hands

AND
hot showers on a wintry day

scented candles burning in the night

the softness of the strings

the lilt of the ivories

close your eyes and listen

AND
music filling my body

cradling a new born baby in my arms

listening to thunderstorms

watching the sun as it rises

the taste of a beautiful wine

AND
walking through a forest

incense burning

staring into rock pools

hugging my parents

being with my daughters

 

holding onto treasured memories

my head has it’s own heart beat

Internal arguments

Pfft

I’ve just had a fight with my daughter.

My daughter whom I cherish, my daughter whom I love like my other daughter

I would gladly give my life for either of my daughters.

She  is 25 year old and lives at home.

It escalated where unkind words were spoken from both of us.

I love her…but she is doing things that are disappointing me, making me angry.

She yelled, I yelled…it was highly confrontational… her boyfriend was here ..he overheard and stormed out of the house

She came out and yelled at me and then left the house

I’m in two minds…grow up my young daughter, please see where I am coming from …to

I don’t care if you say you are ‘different’ and by her reasoning  I should accept that.. I’m sorry I just can’t

Why should there be this conflict? I have given her a roof over her head, helped her out monetarily, supported and been there  since the moment I brought her into this world..

If she were in her own house, I wouldn’t know how she lived, alas I am here as she is, from day to day I see and hear and I’m sorry if I can’t accept…

I love her with every breath I take as I do my other daughter…but she has a different way of wanting to live and forgive me but shouldn’t I ask that she respects what my values are whilst she is under my roof?

Am I asking too much?

She yelled that I was the worst human being she has known…. that is hard to bare…that hit me hard and I write crying.. knowing what I have  done for her..what I do for her still..

I know to attack is the easiest way out…but it hurt…and I am hurt..

I’m not feeling that great at the moment and I needed to write…I know her words were said in anger like mine were but it doesn’t help…it wont resolve what was said or how we mend it

It’s not a normal post…I know.. I’m sorry..I’m just angry and hurt and sad right now that we can’t have the relationship I so desperately want with her…

I don’t think I am asking too much…I want us to be closer… I simply cannot get her to understand how I feel about certain things..and clearly she doesn’t understand me…

I close not knowing what tomorrow shall bring…

Words…..

I’m listening to Sarah McLachlan…& I am listening to Angel.

Music…songs & their words…bring out a different me….possibly hard to understand or for me to explain… but shall I say my emotions change, they heighten & I’m empowered to write simply by listening to lyrics…

My writing emerges from within me, sometimes I do not intentionally choose the words, or the scenarios…my words choose me...what ever wishes to materialise from somewhere inside my being…persuades me to write. I may not have a wide vocabulary nor be as eloquent as some other writers…but I am compelled none the less to do so..

Listening to Sarah at this moment in time

I picture rolling green hills & glistening blades of grass brushed by a sun shower, the suns rays reaching out to kiss the  world beneath from behind the slow rolling clouds…I picture white crested waves tumbling leisurely to the shore, stretching themselves out to reach the hot sands before rolling back onto themselves…I picture forests tall, as I walk upon crackling Autumn leaves beneath my feet, tall timbers being graced by the light of the sun caressing their canopy…I picture a new born foal unsteadily trying to stand to suckle from his mother…I picture an open fire, staring at the coloured flames, listening to the crackling of the wood as it relinquishes its fight against the fire that embraces it…I picture a new born being placed on her mother & to watch the tears that fall upon the mothers cheek as she gazes with intense love upon her perfect child…I picture rain drops settled against a frosted window pane slowly trickling downwards and breathing warm air upon the glass to draw pictures…I picture my parents tenderly holding hands or exchange a smile… I picture lying on a blanket on a warm summer evening and gazing above at an almost blackened sky that has come alive with stars…I picture my daughters when I sat in a dimly lit room on a rocking chair to feed them in the early hours of quiet still morning..their small hands grasping my fingers… watching their eyelids close from being sated with milk & a sweet sleepy smile..

so many things that music & lyrics bring me..

so I write not for acceptance…

I write because I am compelled to share my inner voice that can only be heard on paper…

no one can stop my love of writing, no one can stop what is so much a part of me..

& if perhaps my writing may touch a life…

with laughter…a smile…or perhaps even a tear..

that is the only recognition I as a writer need…