Life is made up of moments. Some we barely notice, some we would rather forget, and some we will never, ever forget.
One fleeting moment
Gone in a flash –
Too quick for me to catch
Yet I will hold it forever
In my head
and in my heart
For in that instant
There was
Nothing
Else
That perfect moment
The look of purest raw emotion
In that fleeting moment I saw
Love
That would last a lifetime
After a good start to this year I got a bit distracted and didn’t write anything for a while. This week I suddenly seem to have found my mojo again. I have been writing lots. From odd lines that will eventually develop into full poems, to snippets and phrases I have just jotted down to insert in a future poem, to a rather random short story. They are mostly first drafts still and will need a bit of tweaking before I share them, except for the one I am sharing now. I was playing around with different poem structures and with increasing and decreasing syllables and this was the result.
If
If
Only
It were true
That which you say
Statements of great love
Pretence of devotion
The words by which you deceive
The lies that you exhale
Carry me away
On clouds of hope
But like rain
They soon
Fall
Posting 2 in 1 today. Although I have not been posting everyday I have actually been writing everyday. Some of what I have written has just been odd lines or stanzas, but here are 2 completed poems.
The first prompt I used was to right about an explosion of joy. As I was short of time, and because I love them, I wrote a haiku.
So incredible
An explosion of pure joy
He said "I love you"
The second prompt I used was to write a poem either about a birthday or to someone on their birthday. This prompt happened to fall on the day my son turned 16, so of course I wrote a poem to him.
You are no longer a babe
Standing tall above me
As we celebrate this day of your birth
A day where once there were balloons
Where parcels were passed, statues danced, and lions slept
But time has passed and
You have outgrown these things
Now as you stand next to me
You stand in a place ‘twixt man and boy
Know that I will always be
Stood here beside you
As you find your feet in a fast changing world
And take your place in the unfolding tale
For today let’s just celebrate
The wonder that is you
Today’s prompt required a bit of time travel – going either into the future or the past to write from the perspective of someone on the brink of a life changing event. I have recently been reading The Mirror and The Light which has inspired my setting, although I cannot be sure the scene I envisioned is an accurate depiction of life in the 16th Century.
I am not yet ready
In time I will be
But time, I have not enough
The guests are assembled
The candles are lit
There has been much bustle and busyness
Many hands bearing trays of finest produce
Have borne more in one morn that in the past sennight
I am not yet ready
In time I might be
Yet not today, not so soon
The tables are laden
The feast all prepared
The clatter of wheels has told me the tale
Of many kin bearing gifts of richest treasures
As would befit the auspicious occasion
I am not yet ready
More time is requisite
Yet time I am not allowed
The servants attend me
The stays are bound tight
There has been much arranging and fixing
Many hands shaping this” finest of ladies”
to be the fine wife of our noble Lord
I must now be ready
The time has arrived
The time I would halt if I could
The fanfare has started
The doors are flung wide.
There has been such anticipation
Many Lives holding to what this day represents
I must play my Part, Obedient submission
Today’s prompt was to write about my resolutions. I don’t tend to make resolutions as I am no good at keeping them so I went in a different direction.
I could resolve to give you the world
To capture the moon in a jar
To swim the vast wide ocean
No journey to you too far
I could resolve to show you the world
To offer it all on a plate
To fetch you your heart's desire
No obstacle would be too great
I could resolve to offer the world
In hope that you'd open your heart
If I were to offer the heavens
Would you then play your part?
I could just resolve to be honest
To tell you the way that I feel
To let you know you are Loved
The truth of my passion reveal
What then would be your resolution
Will our futures hence intertwine?
Or will you resolve to dismay me
I pray you will not be unkind
It’s always easier to write when on holiday. The combination of more time and being generally more relaxed, with visiting new and interesting places helps the creative flow. We have visited Portpatrick a few times now, finding out about ships wrecked on the rocky shore line, and how it served as a version of Gretna green for couples who caught the boat across from Belfast. The ferries no longer come into Portpatrick, the little bay and harbour could not cope with the large ships required these days, which now dock at Cairnryan a little further north. Instead Portpatrick remains a picturesque little coastal village – a beautiful unspoilt spot away from the hubbub of much of modern life; a great spot for a relaxing break. It was only yesterday as I walked down to the sea, that I noticed the extraordinary number of chimney pots on the buildings around the bay. I found myself a comfy large rock to sit on, gazing out at the sea, and wrote this poem.
The chimneys of Portpatrick
That stand above the bay
Stretch up heavenward to the sun
That shines on us today
How long they’ve stood there watching
I really do not know
They have seen the waters rise
They’ve seen the tide ebb low.
The chimneys of Portpatrick
Have stood there oh so long
They’ve heard the ocean raging
Witnessed her waves so strong.
And in the still calm moments
That come both day and night
Know the peace just hides from view
The ocean’s fearsome might
The chimneys of Portpatrick
Stood solemn as the waves
Threw boat, then boat against the rocks
And not all souls were saved
The lighthouse stood as warning
It’s light shone through the night
The brave and daring lifeboat crew
Risked all for stranger’s plight
The chimneys of Portpatrick
That witnessed so much woe
Also saw such joyful days
Saw lovers come and go
Across the sea from Ireland
Where family disapproved
Wedding vows they came to say
Their lasting love to prove
The chimneys of Portpatrick
Stand cold and smoke no more
Yet still we come to visit
This bonny stretch of shore
And while we swim the waters
We drink, we eat, we play
The chimneys of Portpatrick
Stand proud above the bay
We have recently been doing a tour of high school open evenings. My daughter, my baby, is in her last year of primary school and we are visiting a number of schools so that she can choose where she goes. This has led to a whole host of mixed feelings in me. Firstly I cannot believe how quickly the last 11 years have gone. Secondly, school seems to have changed so much since I was there, it looks a lot more interesting! Thirdly, what a shame it is that we do not appreciate it at the time. School days, although not without their own ups and downs, are free of many of the stresses and worries of adulthood and working life, and if I could go back now I would want to learn, and would make much better use of the opportunity to do so. But the strongest of these emotions comes from the increasing pace with which time passes. My baby is no longer a baby, far from it, she is growing up so quickly and that is bittersweet. She has always been a lot of fun, fully living up to her middle name, Joy, but as she has grown she has shed a lot of her shyness and self consciousness and shares her Joy increasingly with those outside our home. Yet I miss the times when she would climb sleepily into our bed in the early morning. I’ve got to be honest, I wasn’t always happy to see her, especially on weekends when I could have slept longer, but now that those times are over I am left with a little sadness at their loss. She no longer pesters me to play with her and her dolls, when I would rather be doing something else, and now I mourn the missed opportunities. Bedtimes are significantly quicker as I no longer need to read chapters of her favourite books when she reads them herself. So for now I will make sure to make the most of the times she does want to spend with me, for in no time at all she will be testing her budding independence. A few years ago I wrote this poem about her. It will always put a smile on my face.
Early each morning Sleeping Beauty creeps into our bed.
She rises with the sun and plods, slumber footed, into our room
Wriggling her way between us, she lifts my arm to wrap it around her,
Snuggles in and let’s sleep claim her once more.
Roused from my dreams I smile at the warmth of her against me,
This innocent child of mine.
Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, I try to re-enter my dreams,
But cannot, and so I gaze through sleep fogged eyes
At the perfect curve of her cheek, speckled with a gentle spread of tiny freckles;
At her long lashes, fanning out on her cheek below the lids that currently hide
her brilliant blue eyes from my view.
This beautiful face, so full of love and trust, causes my heart to swell.
Her delicate, wilful, big-hearted, enthralling personality radiates through every pore.
I am tempted to squeeze her into me,
to hold her so tight as if to never let go,
but I do not wish to wake her, so I content myself instead with a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Drifting away, my eyes close once more,
as a dreamy smile crosses my face
And I rest with our beloved Phoebe Joy in my arms.
Life, as I understand it 