My Dad

A stream of consciousness

Photo by Limor Zellermayer on Unsplash

Dad, I want to sit on your lap
and rest my face in your neck
as I did as a child, every day
your skin smelt familiar to me
pipe smoke, aftershave, and perspiration,
home to me, when I was so ill
you carried me to bed, and from bed
to the sofa, where I spent the day
My Dad, 
my body hurts so much
my concerns are a bit too much

my sleep is broken, I need rest, much more

I started calling you ‘My Dad’
I cared for you so fiercely.
You deserved it and you showed me how

I watched you, and you never told me
Now I am weary as never before
managing a home with sprained ribs
that got bruised all over again

the pain wears my mind down, no relief
except in sleep which is broken
If only I could sit on your lap again
feel your warmth and strength

know your deep love for me, your dry humor
I miss you still so much, you were my north
my compass to find my way in life
I know you are proud of me, love me
I saw you weep for me two times
though you were a man of few words

but your actions spoke louder
you treated everyone the same

from royalty to road sweepers
people always spoke well of you
I want to sit on your lap, face in your neck
you died in my arms far too soon
I’m glad you had a good death
but I miss you and want you still

Published in The Lark


If Love Should Come Again

If love came to stay again there would be no fairy tales
No speak of sea and oceans, rivers to cross, sun or rain

No huge great mountains or journeys from afar
everyday life to share, watching stars

I would love you whilst cooking or digging the plot
Our love will be shared while we search for a sofa or so
And if we met in a meadow or council flat stairs
We’d still know we’re in love and doubt it not

If we drove a Roll Royce or an old banger with rust
No difference it would make to our mutual trust
If we lived near a swamp or a place with a view
I’d be happy, my sweet, to share it with you

There would be no stardust or magic at all
Except that which we make in our love on our own
And the spell that we discover in each other’s soul
Will be like 
the garden we’ll share at our home

Our love will nourish us if we are far apart for work
And homecoming will be a celebration each time
So journeying on in the passing of days and nights
I’ll be so happy to know I’m the jewel of your heart

Published in The Lark


The Two Of Us

When we loved
It was so good with us
Harmonious, knowing
What the other wanted

When you brooded
It changed everything
No lovemaking
No secret glances

I would laugh
When you bought me a double
Knew the sensuality
Brought fulfilment
I loved it

When so relaxed
You would pull me across
Putty in your hands

I had to tell you to go
Jealousy was a choking jail
Second to your money
It became allowed too long

Published in KnowThyself, Heal Thyself

Silken Ribbons

I always pretend to hear whispers of our world,
yet my mind always drifts towards that open void,
reflecting on kisses that undress the ache of my scars,

unfurling sorrows as if silken ribbons.
These will never wither,
but will be absorbed by you
when low moments come to mock.

And as time settles into evening,
your shadow will hang itself from my core.
And with sighs quivering between my lips –
my spirit will wrap itself around warmth of your body.
And when you stroke your fingers through my hair –
you will feel each aching breath of me.

Published in The Lark Written 2005


Prince Harry and Megan Markle

Prince Harry’s good work for veterans left with life changing injuries, his work for mental health, his championing of many charities, are all abandoned by him since Megan Markle decided that being royal was not glamorous enough for her.

When they were interviewed on the occasion of their engagement, they told Mishal Hussein that they were fully prepared for married life in the public gaze. It is on visual/audio record.

Now, that is contradicted. Prince Harry’s grandfather has died, and Harry is not nearby.

Megan Markle did like the hard work of being a public figure. It is grueling. Tiring. She did not like that their home was smaller than that of Prince William and Katherine. Famously, Megan made Katherine cry on the eve of her wedding. Now that is reversed and Megan is the victim. In her words.

Megan Markle does not love her husband enough to be second place. To honour his role in public life. She does not love him enough to empower him, support him, and be his rock.

She has used colourism to her advantage. She does not look ‘black’. Her TV career used this to her advantage. Now, she accuses the royal family of racism with no proof.

Prince Philip was more ‘royal’than the woman he fell in love with. He was a refugee from age one and his childhood was spent in various countries, after his parents split up. His much older sisters married German princes so could not attend his wedding. One sister was killed in an airplane accident which left the 16 year old prince desolate.

He came to Britain to finish his schooling. Then he became a British citizen, renouncing his titles.

He met Princess Elizabeth when he was 18 and she 15. War broke out, but they stayed in touch. They married and enjoyed normal life.

When his wife became his Queen, he had to leave his career in the Navy. He pledged his allegiance and, in public, always walked one step behind her. In private, it was different. The Queen sought his advice and he was the one person she could trust in all things.

Born to be her superior in old fashioned terms, both royally and in education, he made a happy life by founding organisations to empower young people, conservation, science. He had no constitutional role, so he made one.

This was a man in love with his wife. Megan Markle comes not even close. A modern woman, she does not understand love.


Accept life on life’s terms

Or you will break

Once we leave secondary education and move on to university, a job, and have to pay bills etc, life becomes messy. We no longer have the security of home, the cushion that parents provide, or someone else you grew up with.

We become adults but are still not fully formed as our lives in society are very new. We may have survived debilitating illness, lost a parent, been in a car wreck, all these things cause us to have insight and compassion, but it has not prepared us for life in the big wide world.

If we have been brought up well enough, we understand that life is unfair, full of injustice, broken promises, and flaky people. We will also know that there are trustworthy people, kindness, family and friends to cheer you on and celebrate the success you achieve.

If we are unable to accept what life brings to our path, we will break, and find it very tough to be mended.

I knew a life-changing illness at an early age. It’s progression rendered me, a quiet, reserved girl, to be passive and not care about what doctors did to me. This wasn’t acceptance, but utter defeat. I realized some years later that I had unexpressed anger, and PTSD.

I know of people who had seemingly undisturbed lives who are angry anyway.

Life is difficult. We fall in love and our hearts get broken. We study hard but can’t convert that into a good degree. Our friends can be unreliable. Our dog dies. All these leave us with a choice.

  • We can become bitter and unpleasant to be around.
  • We can accept what life hands us, accept it and do our our best.

When we accept the difficulties, we have succeeded with half of those difficulties.

We grow as humans with every experience we have, if we choose to accept it. We gain knowledge and wisdom. We become better friends to others, wiser parents, more understanding lovers. We are kinder, empathetic, compassionate, good listeners, and gentle.

We allow people to have space, know when to touch them, when to intervene, how to encourage, not to be shocked. We turn up with food, without food, we send sympathy cards because we know how much it means.

These qualities come more easily to some than others. But it is not a competition. We be who we are are. None of us is perfect.

We accept imperfect people.

We are able to comfort those who are suffering, and allow kindness to be more important than our fear. Thus, we can help someone who has fallen on the sidewalk, give directions to strangers who are lost, stay with a child who is crying or not crying until their parent finds them again.

I have told complete strangers that they must hold their three year old child’’s hand in a busy main street. I have repeated it when I ran into them again outside another store. My fear of saying it is less important than a child’s safety.

I don’t care what others think of me if I am doing the right thing.

Recently, someone posted publicly that there were ambulances, fire trucks, and a doctor’s car at a certain place. I politely asked her to remove it as whoever needed them deserved some privacy and the vehicles already announced their distress. Later, I saw she had added a link to the fire service’s report. Again, I asked her to remove it. If people want to look up what the fire service was doing that day, they can go to the website. We don’t publicize the trauma of others just because we can.

I held my family members as they died within eighteen months of each other. We have become unafraid to do this. It is compassionate, and dreadful, but we do it because we love.

We face our own trauma with grace as we have realized there is no alternative. We thank those who care for us with kindness and cheerfulness. We laugh when we are able to, as it is medicine to the soul, and a moment shared.

Connection is valued because we are all human and need each other. We have learned to disconnect from those who do not respect or honor us. It is better to have an enemy than friends who cannot realize our worth.

We contribute to our community because we know it important to give back. We do this according to our personality, some volunteer, some take on responsibilities, some leave small handmade treasures to delight others, and many unseen, unrecognized, gestures of charity and hope.

If you have read this, I hope you are comforted, inspired, reassured, and know that you are not alone.


At times I’m suffocating…

My breathing has not got worse since the paramedics came, at least I don’t think so. But I just opened a package that had staples, got a drink, and came upstairs, and my chest felt like it needed to explode in order to let oxygen in.

It is two-three minutes of absolute inactivity, a gasping while no air actually gets in with the gasping. (When the paramedics were nebulising me, I realised I was exhaling with every inhalation. I watched the gas being blown out far more than I took it in.)

No one would have blamed me if I had calledfor paramedics on 999, as I did last time.

I am terrified of being taken to hospital though. I don’t want to be exposed to the bugs in hospital. And my neurological disease gets overlooked.

I am OK now. I could go down and get a drink and come back up, and only be slightly fast in my breathing with some wheezing. It was the fighting with the package that wiped me out.

It’s been chilly here, so last night I felt my bedroom was cold enough when I went to bed. I woke in the night for quite a while. I need my window open at night, no matter how chilly the air.

I don’t have Netflix at present, but I’ve seen photos of Emily Cronin. It really freaks me out and she is my double when I was aged 19/20. It is so uncanny. So startling. I really can’t believe the likeness.

I’m enjoying chatting with my daughter. She is ‘different’ now that she is single. The first 18 months with her boyfriend were ok, but then he totally became rude. I realised very quickly that he had not been taught manners. But it went far beyond that.

I’m just grateful for this time and my upcoming birthday with my daughter. I adore her.

I don’t know if this episode with my lungs is just another infection as I’ve had for the last 18 months, if it’s a winter thing, or deterioration.

I do know that I want to die and go to God. But I’ll miss my daughter.

Mike I thought you didn’t want meto die alone?


Male and female brain with the 5 stages of love…

Louann Brizendine, M.D., is an American scientist, a neuropsychiatrist who is both a researcher and a clinician and professor at the University of California, San Francisco. She’s written two books, The Male Brain and The Female Brain, and notes significant differences including the following:

  • Medial Preoptic Area. This is the area of sexual pursuit and is 2.5 times larger in the male brain.
  • Amygdala. The alarm system for threats, fears, and danger and larger in the male brain.
  • Mirror-neuron system. The “I feel what you feel” emotional empathy system. Gets in sync with others’ emotions by reading facial expressions and interpreting tone of voice and other nonverbal emotional cues. It is smaller and less active in the male brain.
  • Anterior cingulate cortex. It’s the worry-wart center, fear-of-punishment area and center of sexual performance anxiety. It is larger in the female brain.
  • Hippocampus. The elephant that never forgets a fight, a romantic encounter, or a mistake, no matter how old it is — and won’t let you forget it either. It is larger and more active in the female brain.
  • The female brain is predominantly hard-wired for empathy. The male brain is predominantly hard-wired for understanding and building systems.
  1. Falling in Love.
  2. Becoming a Couple.
  3. Disillusionment.
  4. Creating Real, Lasting Love.
  5. Finding Your Calling as a Couple.

Like many people, I thought there were only two stages to have a great relationship. First, the magic moment where we meet that special someone and fall in love. Second, we become a couple and live happily ever after. Also, like many whose marriage hit the rocks and disillusionment overcame us, I got divorced, became depressed, decided I had chosen the wrong partner, and eventually tried again.


Sometime ago…

About three, maybe four years ago, I phoned a friend who has lived in Italy for a long time. He said I don’t laugh as much anymore.

That took me right back to when I was 19, care free, loved and happy. He and I were close friends, we spent almost all our free time together. When he drove, I changed the gears. Sometimes he manipulated me, but I was too easy going to mind. His best friend, Steve was another very close friend. When he was home we were a trio.

That conversation on the phone made me feel the hardship I’ve been through. My marriage went from love and fun to fear, protecting my daughter, realising I kept money after I’d done the shopping until I had almost enough to get me and my daughter away. I asked for a divorce but he would not go. Then I could not bear that he had gone. I know now that I felt guilty, as if I owed him something. I owed him nothing.He was not even legally entitled to see my daughter. This is the first time I’ve said this publicly.

My next relationship was loving, but after time I realised he did not love my daughter. He injured his back badly. Caring for him was snared with guilt trips and his jealousy. He had been possessive from the beginning. I liked it, as I had eyes for no one else. But it became hard work. I asked him to leave.

I spent almosr a decade without a man in my life. I met Geoff fifteen years ago, but we’ve been mainly friends. There have been dates, but primarily I was a mother and worked hours to suit that.

Recently, my ex neighbour made sure I noticed him. I had thought him boring but kind. He certainly isn’t boring. I began to like him. And then in April last year, I fell in love with him.

I won’t tell the rest of that, it does him no favours. I have gone through every emotion since September last year. Today has been miserable because I love him still.


Fragment of Dream…

A shard of memory from dreams
forgotten in the whole
no context for the image left with me
just one fragment of a dream

I see it still, in hazy mind picture
you were embracing me,
your head beside mine, my hand your hair
you wept in this haze of dream

So sorry were you for hurting me
no tongue to voice apology
tears wetting my face, I held your head
hoping it was real, not a dream

When you grow weary of deceiving
pulling the wool over her eyes
there is a room for you here with me
we can take it from there, no dream

Published by The Poetry Bar



The whole thing with the poor young woman has caused me to reflect. I understand that she feels she loves him, the bloke who punched her face. It will take her a while to realise that love has no forms of violence or attempts at violence.

I had to end my marriage because there was violence towards me. He never punched but threw me to the floor a couple of times and would hold me down, and other things that left no marks.

It took a long time to feel life was OK without him. I had children to look after so my time was full. Now I can’t bear his company.

Violence is never OK. Even attempted violence or words of violence.

Some plants arrived today. I am creating a new flower bed. It will mostly in shade so lots of silver and variegated foliage.

I enjoyed strawberries on my breakfast and the tomatoes are getting redder. It feels good.


Helping a punched in the face girl is hard work…

It’s been a difficult day. I didn’t wake until late and felt blue so I napped until 3pm.

Apart from paying a bill, I’ve accomplished very little except I collected my prescription. I cried all the way home because the pharmacy door was shut and I couldn’t get in. So much for equality. A shut door takes all equality away.

I was leaving to go to the store when I came across a young girl crying into her phone. She had been punched in the face. That she had had drink didn’t her. I brought her back to my house and phoned for an ambulance. She was obviously distressed but kept saying she loved the ex boyfriend. I told her she wasting her time and no one who loves anyone punches anyone.

She was obviously in shock and I gave her a bucket. She spewed everywhere except the bucket. I asked her to slow her breathing and kept reassuring her. She slid off my dining chair onto the floor, still vomiting. The ambo’s arrived and they moved her to my living room, where she vomited on my carpet.

She was taken out to the ambulance. They brought in some antiseptic wipes but I had already cleaned up and used disinfectant.

She at the hospital now and I updated the police. I gave them them the perpetrators name.

I had dinner but my appetite had gone.