Poem at ‘The Voice’

Writing With Light

Take the photograph now. The light will change in moments, in murmurs, in breaths. Don’t ask them to smile, that is not the memory. Take another photo, half a stop up,again, half a stop down. We can write with light  if we don’t seek a pose.
The light has changed now. So have the murmurs, the breaths. Laughter may have died to another mood. Capture it, the sense of it.Fragile, the memories we keep. The camera often lies, but more, our uncertain minds don’t retain what was, but rather, what we wish it had been.
Yet we recall the things we meant to say, or wished we could have said, or not said. If we could have loved better, or found love elsewhere. Friendships that we have still are and those we lost or ended. 

Ebsworth well and truly broke my laptop…

I’ve been using my phone to write my blog since an alcoholic broke my laptop. I was still able to use it to look at websites, and read emails but that was about it. Now I can’t even do that. I know absolutely nothing about computers, laptops etc. And I have no money to repair it or replace it. I am going to have to insure whatever gets repaired or replaced.

A poem of mine been published by The Voice. I have been trying to copy and paste it here, but I need my laptop to do that. The Voice is on WordPress so if you really want to read it, put in that name followed by mine. I actually hate reading my poetry after it’s been published. I also heard that I hadn’t won a prize that I had entered, but I did get a lot of very positive feedback.

The pain I have been suffering has grown worse. Last night I went to bed early due to excruciating pain in my legs. Nerve pain, which feels like you’ve climbed ten thousand stairs, so like an ache but not.

Today I was in my bathroom and I began to wonder if the wind chimes had been taken down as there was silence. Just as I dared to hope that they had been removed, the ting-tang=ting started again and I retreated my bedroom in tears.

I have started to look for solicitors to take legal action against my neighbours, their letting agent and my former neighbours.

No one should have to live like this. Ebsworth judged me for it and the irony is that he is partially, if not totally responsible for it.