Life Line


We at times are vulnerable, our strength depletes
falling as spilt water from the overflowing glass
to frail to bend, to mop up what lies around us
A cry for help not loud enough for others to hear

The tenuous task of gathering ourselves once more
our ability to be strong, is as powerful
as it is to be weak, moments when our resolve
is questionable, our enervated self

Do we wish to prove to those who know us, we have
no imperfections, yet, within us we cannot
lighten the cross we bare, to undertake what is
before us we sometimes fall in spite of our
believed strength

This is when we ask, we beg, for another to lend a hand
to build us up, to mop up the spillage from the floor
It is not cowardice to ask for comfort and support
the life line that is needed, for we are only human
and nothing more.

Copyright JMTacken 10.5.2014

I wrote this after reading Rara’s plight at the moment.



Infection (Prose)


It’s infectious
with troubled pasts
can’t explain or talk it out
the need to expel demons
carried on backs, or those that are
buried deep within hearts
It’s infectious
the mountain is there
that needs to be climbed
a pillow that’s held tight to a chest
a drink that is swallowed, they try to forget
abandoning yesterday’s in place of tomorrow’s
casting aside pain, forgetting past sorrow
It’s infectious
the need to jump fences
run free through the fields
survive what has happened, the need to feel real
to unlock the doors, to open their minds
regain their confidence, leaving darkness behind
words are around you, the answers in sight
write out your feelings…please just write
©jmtacken 2014

Borrowed Heart (Prose)

brushing the floral curtain with the back of my hand

watching you walk away, your back to me


your jacket slung casually over your shoulder

nonchalant, as was our time this afternoon

dust not settling, words still echoing through the room

hitting the ground before they have the chance

to touch my heart

I watched, you didn’t wave,  you never do

if silence the only noise

I’d clasp my hands falling to the ground, wishing

for more stolen moments, but your words

slowly rise as they have done many times before

lingering inside my head, entering my skin

the amount you stay much shorter than your goodbyes

a heart that won’t be captured, the bird whose flight is free

watching the car door open,  not looking back

the curtain once again falls back in place

as if nothing had changed, simply how it was between you and I

a rendezvous informal, nothing altered

my finger tracing my lips, where you were

once again, you have borrowed my heart

and taken it away

with emptiness ~ I wait in hope

that you will walk through my door again

and stay

©jmtacken Dec. 2013

The music clip says in the beginning to close your eyes and listen … don’t close your eyes ~ but do listen.

Burnt Offerings (Prose)


I walk a candle in summer rain umbrella’d by my free hand
hot wax drips against my palm
yet I’m indifferent to pain
northerly winds dance around my ankles, languid
as the Koi that circle in your pond
trespassing your land, forbidden territory
relinquishing fears; heart beats strong
scrunched piece of paper your last words to me
the page of ink runs ~ similarity

indecipherable ‘nothings’
a goodbye of yours escorts my steps
a minute or two your memory will be doused
corridors of feelings
I wasn’t good enough; you weren’t
a flickering candle these scrawled words that you wrote
a more fitting end …is it not
I walk away no one bearing witness to the
pleasure in my smile, northerlies pick the flame
embers scorch arid wood
the doors securely locked
you forgot I had a key


I know umbrella’d is not a word – but I put it regardless of it’s correctness.  🙂

I would also like to thank those who enquired about my absence and me the last couple of days.

In a moment (Prose)





there will be moments, fleeting seconds

when a journey of ones self halts ~ mid stream

life’s own pattern that normally flows and

ebbs across jagged rocks across mossy leaves


there will be moments, when breath is hard to grasp

when knowing someone that you love cannot help

themselves, with tears that form, the droplets fall

no way to catch them, to make them disappear


there will be moments, you wish to trade their

place with yours,  absolve the frightened

look held within their eyes, to give them

reassurance and all the love you have


there will be moments, like grey clouds overhead

that form, that turn your day from sunshine

into rain, when all you wish is to comfort

them, to take away their pain


so when these moments strike you ~be prepared

as you can be, know that you won’t breath in

the seconds that it takes, know your life can

turn upside down and you will also break


©jmtacken Sept 2013

Written from the event of yesterday.





can you help the ones that cry (Prose from 3 words)

I have side stepped from my ‘evil’ persona for this.  3 words seems to be all the encouragement and inspiration that is required some days. These 3  tears, hope &  shoulder were given to me by

images-3 images-5

Everybody hurts sometime
~ so the words are sung
to what breadth ~ the one who feels the pain
that cuts into their very breath is the one who truly knows
others (as the bystanders) only see the tears
or the sadness in their eyes that once held hope or joy
the forlorn look across their face, that once held smiles
and what they need is comforting the simplest hug
the kindest word to help alleviate their pain

and cuddles are the smallest things, yet the
happiness they bring ~ immeasurable, contact
with a friend whose strength will see them through
who can ask them how they are and really listen
not just nod as if they understand, when they
themselves confused; to give a little reassurance
that they will smile again and tears will melt away

and what they need is hope 
that what they feel right now will dissipate
that feelings of self worth or loss will lift
that they will have much brighter days
give them your shoulder for they won’t
bear too much weight, only what they carry
deep inside and the full extent of what they feel
won’t be enough to make you crumble…. only them

©jmtacken Sep 2013


Still interested in receiving 3 words, if anyone who hasn’t shared cares to do so.

How did I love thee (Prose from 3 words)

cough, conflict, control these 3 words have been sent from  Sarah Ann – thank you and I hope that you enjoy.

sitting cross legged on the bed
sheets crumpled underneath
I watch the candle flames
burn their brightness
with the smell of frankincense
I hold you in my arms
I have the control it seems
to do with you as I please and I
cough a little excitedly
for what that means to me


I hold you tight, you don’t resist
lying comforted in my embrace
which is different from the past
few weeks,  when all we did was fight
but now there is no conflict
as I am in control, who would have
thought I’d spike your drink
allowing you to fall
ssshh ~  it will be alright my love
there is nothing you should fear
though now that you paralysed
revenge is near
so let me hold your hand ~ I swear
you won’t feel any pain
just let me heat the knife once more
and slice into your vein


©jmtacken Sept 2013

Picture it & Write Prompt Just hit Enter

For this Challenge by Picture it & Write, we can either follow the theme go to
or create your own version of the picture below. I have chosen my own theme.


My fingers shake above the keyboard, my nose runs, yet I just sit here sniffing, like an infant, wiping the end of my nose with the back of my hand,  instead of reaching for a tissue from the box in front of me.
The letters on the keys are blurry, they fade out, then come into focus.
I know where each letter sits, I don’t care.
I feel my heart beating loudly inside my chest, my breath is fast, shallow.
Every now and then my chest rises sharply but falls just as quickly, as I try desperately to hold back more tears.
Five times now, I have counted them, a tear drops, hits a key and sinks into a gap between the letters.
At least the letter is clearer.
Why has it come to this, that I sit here, my body shaking, stomach hurting, as if someone has punctured my intestines with a six inch blade, I feel nauseous, my body fights to hold the expulsion of vomit.
I will myself … do this, move your hand to the right, hit that damn enter key.
Like the letters, my view seems clearer.



“God what have I done”.