20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Empty

like the vase that holds no flowers
the bottle of scotch in the bin
the photo frame that held the happy picture
the photo I tore away, that was encased in wood

A nothingness remains…’empty’ like the tree stripped of its leaves

 

 


4 Comments

My life in a bubble

Cuddled together
a blanket of coloured wool
surrounds our shoulders
clink of glasses
toasting each other
as we look ahead to the lake
and the mountain beyond
plunging into the depths
where we cannot swim
feed me fresh strawberries
smile as juice trickles down
my chin grab a handkerchief
gently wipe as I stupidly grin
watch ants round our feet
and lift our legs high
not wanting a bite this makes
us laugh at the small things
the large things the colours
the clouds drifting through
heavens this worlds indeed ours
for all that I have
right here and right now
is our own nirvana
away from the crowds
as like the bubble that
drifts in the breeze
all that I need is
right here with me


Under the Weeping Willow

Run in-between the rain drops
shouting my name out loud
I turn my head
I feel a blush, I laugh

drops from clouded skies
touch my skin, my
eyes
trickle down my nose

chase me up the grassy knoll
dress soaked through
transparent
I care not

warming winds carry
your words closer
to my ears
“Rose ….wait”

follow me my love
to the top of the
hill where the
willows brush the earth

you love me…is that really
what I heard
spirits shan’t be dampened
hearing those three words

pursue me capture me
my body as my heart
remove my transparency
for I am yours

nothing else matters
not the rain, nor the wind

you love me, I want you under

the weeping willow branches


6 Comments

I shall tend to your feet Pop

The other week-end I gave my Pop (dad) a pedicure. At almost 86, he has trouble bending down to tend to his feet.

I slowly removed his sandals and sat beside him on a small stool. He was worried that I would hurt my back by sitting this way….

Yours nails I cut carefully
and removed old skin
then massaged cream gently
along each of your feet

You thanked me for what you called a
‘laborious task’, to me it gave
me joy
to help see to the feet of my
father who was once a
little boy

My Dad

My Dad

As I massaged the cream
into your skin
I thought of where
your feet had been

These feet that were bare and told to stand in snow in a European Winter.
These feet that walked to the timber pile to chop wood for your step – father, the fire you were not allowed to be warmed by.

These feet that had to walk up the staircase where you were told to eat your meal, alone,  whilst the rest of the family ate downstairs in comfort at the table.

These feet that gave you the strength to escape from Czechoslavakia during the War, to cross mountains, hide on trains, trudge through forests, swim through rivers and nearly have your life ended twice by a gun held at you by the KGB.

These feet that brought you to Australia, to start a new life, to build a house for a family that you knew you would one day have, though you had no carpentry skills.

These feet that ran and played shuttlecock with us, the times that we went camping.

These feet that walked next to me on the day that I was wed.

These feet now older
that hold your struggling
legs and body
these feet are not a ‘laborious chore’
to me, my father

These feet have travelled many miles
through great adversity
saw you start a business
accomplish many things
I shall tend to your feet

as I love you
I shall tend again, again
and again

 


2 Comments

Losing Touch – Come back to me Mum

I see that glazed look
in your old eyes
the eyes that hold tears
wear and tear
from life
I feel your struggle
for recognition
of the past you
once knew
conversations had
Longing glances
to the distance
eye contact barely given
comprehension difficult
of those around you
your eyes can see, I saw you
yesterday, yet you had forgotten
Disinterest
feelings of loss
your life now changed
a burden you feel
to yourself and to others 
Like fitting the pieces of the
jig-saw puzzle
the pieces don’t seem
to fit anymore
trying to recollect
events of yesterday, or just a minute prior

Below is whom I write about tonight, her memory fades a little more each day and there is not a damn thing I can do to help her. If you wish to read a little more about this ‘English Rose’ that is my mum- please click on the below.

http://ramblingsfromamum.wordpress.com/2012/10/26/this-is-the-lady-my-mum/


Drugs

I have a drug inside me

coursing through my veins
not a little coloured pill

a drug
not herbal or manufactured
yet makes my skin glow
relieves my aches and pains

a drug
that makes me
euphoric intoxicated
not held within a glass

a drug
that relaxes and calms
that is not injected or smoked

a drug
that isn’t prescription
that gives me a high and
brings me comfort

a drug
not administered
intravenously yet supplies
energy and sustenance

a drug
that helps me sleep
peacefully through the night
which isn’t a sedative

a drug
that steadies my moods
keeps me on track
that isn’t a vitamin

a drug
that helps when my head pounds
which isn’t an aspirin

a drug
that stimulates
which isn’t a white powder

a drug inside me
coursing through my veins

a drug simply intoxicating

that drug is labelled YOU


Poison

Poison invades my veins
I’m in your bed, my skin hurts

are you my poison, I refuse to
believe, I clamber to my feet

I take aboard your lies, touch my face
all is forgiven the poison that entered

is forgotten

caress my skin say how you love me
you are the boy that is my lover

I ingest what you tell me, pretend
it’s me that you love

there is no anti-venom


Love Under the Willow Tree

Chase me through the rain
shout my name out loud
I turn my head I laugh

drops from clouds hit my
face, chase me up the hill
my dress soaked through

the wind will not banish
your voice it only carries
it closer to me

hits my face like the rain
chase me my love, up to the top
where the willows brush the earth

you love me..is that what you said
rain shall not dampen how I feel
hearing those three words

run to me, catch me and throw
me to the ground take me
if you will, you said you loved me

nothing else in the world matters
not the rain, nor the wind
you love me, I want your love under

the willow branches


Unrequited love

I’ve travelled past your window many times, when the sky was trying to touch darkness.

I look at the lamp that yields a soft light and the curtain that blows behind the partially opened glass.

I see the wooden table in the corner with your papers and the phone, that I have rung so many times, without you answering. Have you been busy, do you not answer it at all..to anyone?

Perhaps just not for me, for I would listen as it rang, salty tears running down into my mouth, brushing back my hair to stop it sticking to my cheeks. Mascara stinging my eyes.

I look back at the lake slow ripples transverse across the water, I look back at your window.

The trees are black not green.

Your eyes dark I remember them, you think I don’t.

The water is dark foreboding, yet it draws me.

It is cold, my toes touch it’s edges, it laps against my ankles.

Touches my stomach, half of me is numbed, my dress floats to the surface.

I walk.

Each pore turned white.

The water is dark, the sky matching.

I remember your dark eyes.

I loved you.

I will be your ghost for breaking my heart.

If only you answered my calls….


2 Comments

The Song

 

Charlotte Gainsbourg  AnOther

 

From a recent prompt – to write a piece on the above picture.

 

 

You left me
towards the door you
walked
no smile no remorse

canvas bag
a gift from me
in the lining hidden
a ring long forgotten
a gift from you
thrown across the floor
it rolled

door slammed
I watched it
roll till it stopped

the records
yours
the ones you will
return for
they are round
like the ring
but hold no
memories

I sit
reading
titles through tears
that drop silently onto
plastic covers
the ring motionless

makes no sound
as these records
never will
they will be silent
there will be no dance
no dip of love
just the stylus
scratching

like you
in my heart


8 Comments

A twisted piece

Overweight, my foot steps are
heavy across the ground
its bitter and snow covers all around
but I am inside safe and warm
I need the rest to have a break
can’t control the food that I intake
I’m tired it’s been a hard cold year
but it’s not the tiredness that I fear

I want to shut away the world
be quiet left alone nothing to disturb
no one to listen should I moan
food is my only comfort my
self pleasure and my need
don’t judge me for what I am
don’t tsk or shake your head
for you do not know the real me

I’ve struggled this whole fall
my home my sanctuary far away
from staring eyes who think me
a disgrace people are so quick to surmise
why they think I am obese they do not know the
emptiness nor the struggles that I’ve faced
no they just seem frightened do they think perhaps I’m bad
or ashamed because of my size which truly makes me sad

No no-one hasn’t got a clue
they naturally walk the other way
not willing to get to know me
or how I feel today they look in my
direction but simply scamper by
not willing to come near me due only to my size
fear in their eyes they look upon me with abomination
but I am simply a grizzly bear ready for hibernation


4 Comments

Awareness to Cruelty

I wrote this because of my love for dogs and the cruelty they endure at the hand of man.

Stick cracks hard across my back
hunger, taunted, teased
caged without affection
never knowing what love is

mankind your cruelty
will not be discharged
you starve my needs
my hate augments
as I witness
others feed

you yell and kick and spit on me
as I lay quiet and cringing
on the ground
I want to please that’s all I know
explain the wrongs I’ve done

humiliation, lack of worth have I
the life not born to lead
don’t pit me against my adversary
this is what I silently plea

my limbs are weak
my body writhes each day
in pain, battle-scarred, agony
let me sleep
to not wake up again

I beg you stop this
‘game’

bets are laid I’m dragged outside
the sunlight hurts my eyes
I have so much hate
churning through me
hate I cannot hide

laughter heard from men that stand
and taunt and scream the word ‘kill’
please don’t let me continue this
stop me now, I will

be the dog that you could love
not filled with animosity
I was born to love
give pleasure to the one
that owned and comforted me

I pace the ring do as I’m told
like a boxer ready for the fight
the other lurches teeth in my neck
latches on with all his mite

I beg you stop this
game

my blood pours and hits the ground
each droplet make men roar
I fight only to defend, relieve me
of this now

Wounds are left to heal alone
sores infest blood dried on skin
lick my cuts to try and heal
ready for the next battle

What pleasure can be found
in this ‘sport’ this blood thirst act
I struggle, don’t understand
as you witness, laugh, applaud
who will be the last to stand

Man is cruel I’ve learnt through time
to continue this atrocious game
I just want love and to be held
I will never be the same

Please Let Us Try to Stop Dog – Fighting…or any animal fighting.

A useless, senseless and disgusting act by the most cruel and depraved individuals, for their pleasure, for a bet … just to see a dog pulling another to shreds….


Metamorphosis

Gossamer veil before me sliver of light
peers furtively through trees that have seen a hundred years
absence of day with steps I place, now in sudden fear
not knowing of where I go or where I’ve been

disconsolate foot steps, crackle leaves beneath my feet
forest of deadened branches hang eerie, blackened sleep
who am I, where am I, behind or in front
cautiously tread direction lost steps to find myself

one foot wrong shall I be left in a world I do not want
one foot right will I find myself forgoing the life I’ve led
brush what my eyes before me see, start anew without the ink
trunks of deadness, branches hang life to them is lost

renew yourselves, birth new buds like I must do at life
banish cobwebs of my fears, eradicate self doubt
step into the daylight, know who you are and why
blackened forest take your leave, be reborn like I


3 Comments

The Window

Her world
behind the window
cracked and rotted wood
falling flakes of paint

curtain not of any colour
greyish hue
old, no longer pretty
need replacing

her world
behind the window
peering out to the garden
sliding her hand along the grimy glass

that she was once able to see through
clearly, but now cannot

how is her mind
behind the window
casting her eyes on weeds
below that need
removing for they old

no longer cared for

and she asks herself …. why don’t they come to visit anymore

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