“Dirty Background With Broken Heart” by fotographic1980 courtesy of


It was the safest place

being wrapped in your arms …

I can still feel the touch of your skin,

the warmth of your embrace

All those precious moments now lost,

bleeding from my heart,

the searing recognition of what I once had

Crippling pain,

regret and guilt suffocating

Never to hear your laugh again,

or look into those bright blue eyes,

hear your voice soften as you reassure,

so blind to the gift that was right in front of me.

Eternally sorry,

I am broken

without you,

my love.

© 2016

Frozen Heart.



“Heart” by graur codrin courtesy of

I can feel my heart hardening again

frosting over

the shards of ice melding together

Frozen solid

the construction of an impenetrable fortress building

once again

No more do I dream of knights and saviours

eyes wide open, surveying instead

the players

the disillusioned

It doesn’t serve to be open

in affairs of the heart

My honesty a toxic poison

Better to remain concealed:

The Dreamer.

There is safety in dreams

and pain in the reality of being ‘too much’.

© 2016

Angelic Inspiration


Golden Angel On White image courtesy of artur84 at

Golden Angel On White image courtesy of artur84 at

Nearly a year has passed

An arch of time

an ache within many hearts

Enveloped in reminders

thoughts left unsaid

Your smile steering me

your will inspiring

These things are decided

events which cannot be undone

Tears still flow

and you are still not here

I ask for help

in believing that you are.

© 2014

Stop. Go.


I have written several sentences on this screen and deleted each one, not quite sure what to write.  I want to post, want normality, but the world changed for me in February with the loss of a very dear friend.  I think of him every day, more so on sunny days.

It is a tragedy that sometimes it takes the loss of a special soul to make us realise that we were not living.  It all felt so dark at first, such a shock … but then my beliefs helped me through.  In recent weeks I have cried more, but I can also look up and smile, and speak.  I send love and healing to his loved ones and others feeling his loss … it eases the ache and makes me feel like I’m helping.

My heart is so heavy.  To all those whom I’d ever sympathised with before, consoled for their loss, I never truly realised the depths of the pain.  I have been so lucky, so blessed … just as I was to know this man, this special person who lit up everyone he met.

There are poems somewhere … I know I wrote a bit when the numbness began to fade, but I don’t know where they are.  They will turn up, and I will register the rainbows once again … soon.  But not yet.

I think this world is so harsh … not just in terms of Mother Nature’s wrath, or the terrible acts committed by some people, the reasons behind them … but in so many ways people just seem to barge their way through the world without taking stock, without caring or attending to others’ feelings.  I will never fully understand why someone who was so genuine and honest had to leave so soon, and there will always be a chink in my heart … the scar of loss … a friend of many years with whom I shared an unspoken bond, someone who helped me through tough times and, I hope, took comfort from my words in hard times also.  It was a privilege to watch him take flight … to soar, to accomplish, and ultimately find happiness with his soulmate whose grief I cannot imagine.

I sit here typing and I know I am not the same person I was when I started this blog.  My priorities have changed, my values have deepened … I am altered.  I value myself more now and I finally know exactly who I am.  The path still stretches ahead of me, my destination uncertain … but the journey is wondrous and there are lanterns aglow way further than I can see.  I miss my friend.  I know he will always light a beacon for me to head towards when I begin to feel lost.  It is an inner conflict that I feel the happiest I’ve ever felt, yet the world has dimmed and I can’t undo it.  Acceptance is the only way forward, bolstered with love and hope.

Be kind to each other.  Cherish those you love; tell them what they mean to you.  I will be back soon. x


Rainbow by Rosemary Ratcliff courtesy of



Ladder Leading Up To The Sky by Sira Anamwong

Ladder Leading Up To The Sky by Sira Anamwong

I honestly thought it was you

I desperately wanted it to be you!

If it isn’t, why have you climbed back into my mind?

Your face, your smile … so vivid, so elusive …

I gave my power to you

which I now recall

Empowerment fuelled

It hurt too much when you closed the door

Revenge for when I closed it on you

I wish you well,

  my love

Stay vanquished from my head, my heart

or come forward and claim what is yours:

My love.

© 2103

Nil Postage.

Hand And Heart by Idea go/










Will my Christmas card reach you this year?

Will the words I write

  spiral up into the sky,

  flutter like birds

  to be caught in your outstretched hands?

Will the love I feel for you

  compress itself into a ball of energy,

  an orb of emotion,

  with Heaven as its destination?

Can you see what is happening,

  how many are grieving,

  your spirit having left

  such a gaping hole in our lives?

Does time mean anything to you now,

  or is a clock just a memory from your past life?

I send you a card every day in my head,

  a letter of love,

  of loss.

You will stay on my Christmas card list.

My unreachable inspiration,

  my reminder to live life to the full.

I just won’t need a stamp any more.

© 2011


Rudderless ~ A Poem for My Grandmother

Rose Close Up by anankkml/
If you were here now
  you would tell us to get on with it,
  to move forwards with the hands of time.
You would take charge, as you always did,
  standing at the helm,
  riding out the storm.
We would buck or follow, sulk or smile
  but loving you all the while,
  respecting you and trying to please.
For all the times I put my feelings first instead of yours,
  I am so very sorry …
But you know this,
  for the tsunami of tears rises heavenward.
If you were here now
  you would be proud of us pulling together,
  shipmates … your family.
Most of us only exist because of you …
  so now the ship has no direction,
  floating vacantly with no-one to steer, to lead.
If only you were here now.

Not today …

A Study In Pink by Maggie Smith/

 I want to write something beautiful …

A sonnet to make your heart sing,

a verse to fill your head with dreams

Cherry blossom falling,

  raining like confetti

A dewdrop on an open rose,

glistening as a new day dawns

Rose From The Garden by Bill Perry/

An iris swaying in the summer breeze,

  as blue as an azure sky

A fairytale ending,

  soulmates bonded for eternity

But my eyes are stinging,

  swollen from tears

I wish you love and hope,

  but I cannot write something beautiful today

© 2011


My entry for Luna’s Poetry Month Clambake (Week 3)

Can we talk?

I don’t know about you, but I’m a person who likes to talk, if only sometimes to eliminate those uncomfortable silences experienced from time to time.  In the Doctor’s waiting room (any medical/optical waiting rooms for that matter) … in a pub, sat alone while you’re friend is at the bar … walking past an elderly lady in the street who you just know wants to talk to you because you can see it in her eyes.

I didn’t used to talk so freely … I was too scared to.  My heart would pound and my skin would prickle at the very thought of opening my mouth to engage with a stranger.  Instead, I would sit there and squirm, throwing them a strained smile now and then as if to apologise … hey, sorry we’re both here … sorry it’s so quiet and we’re both uncomfortable, but I don’t have the courage to draw attention to myself by being friendly … sorry I don’t have time to share a few words with you and make your day a little brighter before you go home to an empty, lonely house.

But the older I’ve become, the more easily I let the conversation flow … hell, even if they don’t answer, it certainly made me feel better.  At least I made an effort!

I think that deep down, within everyone, there is the yearning to connect … I’m not talking on a deep level necessarily (don’t get me started on soulmates!), but on just a human level … the need for interaction.  So these days I seem to go out of my way to oblige.  I’ll smile back at the lonely-looking soul sat on the bench, a smile that can spark a brief conversation if he wants it to or which can just be left as an offering, no pressure to give me anything in return.  I’ll persuade the very nervous-looking girl who’s sat on her own in the Dentist’s waiting room to talk a little, my sole reason being so that I can tell her everything will be okay (I always get SO nervous when I come here, but today I have to have a tooth out.  I’m scared!).  I’ll chit chat to the lady in the local shop, although for some reason I find this a bit harder, the words don’t come as easily – because at times I’m very shy?  Because I don’t want to give too much of myself away?

And I’ll smile politely and talk for a while to the lady in the supermarket who commented on the pens I was looking at and then spent a good five minutes (felt a lot longer) telling me all about the college course she is studying, clearly desperate to share her excitement with someone, anyone.  And the lady whom I met for the first time a few weeks ago who treated me like an old friend, repeatedly apologising for wanting to talk so much (which only made me want to talk to her a bit more so she wouldn’t feel bad).  She shouldn’t need to say sorry for simply talking, for wanting to pass the time with someone on a sunny morning!  And I still thought this after I bent down to pick something up and inadvertently spotted the brandy bottle nestling in her unzipped handbag, the sickly-sweet smell of alcohol on her breath only faintly noticable as I stood upright again.  I felt even more for her then … heartily waving at me, thanking me for the conversation before walking home to her tomb of a life.  Who am I to judge? I thought … I didn’t know anything about her, save for facts: the names of her children and grandchildren and where they had been the previous weekend.  That brandy might have been for baking; it might have been for her husband who begged her to buy it because he knows he has a problem and he’s ashamed to be seen buying another bottle; it might have been for her to have a sip of at bedtime because she could feel a cold coming on.  I didn’t want to believe that it was for her, or that the spritely smile was just a mask … that the minute she got home and closed the door behind her, shutting the cruel world out, she would wither and retreat into a world darkened by the contents of that bottle.

Sometimes, even if I am on top of the world (which, believe it or not, does happen!) I withdraw into my shell and don’t really want to come out.  Those are the moments when you can end up being the most surprised … like today when I walked into a boutique and didn’t really feel like talking.  The immaculately made-up and perfectly dressed assistant/manager (the only person in there anyway) asked how I was and we exchanged pleasantries for a couple of minutes, although I could have done without it.  I was fine until I said something (can’t recall what) which prompted her to say that the shop had been located a couple of streets away for the past two  years before relocating – in her eyes just providing me with information, but in mine accusing me of being ignorant as to what had existed around the corner all that time – and I ever so slightly bristled.  My life’s been in turmoil, I wanted to shout.  I haven’t had the luxury of looking at anything nice for myself for the past two years! I wanted to snap, feeling defensive for reasons I could not fathom.

Instead, I took a moment to breathe and replied, “Oh, I’ve had too much going on for the past two years,”  … which was all it took for this pretty woman, this stranger, to embark upon her story … ridiculously similar to my own.  In seconds, the dynamics of the situation had completely changed – it went from a service provider/customer situation to two women who have been battered by similar life events (in the same time frame, no less) engaged in enthusiastic conversation, throwing pieces of ourselves back and forth, the other devouring each morsel hungrily before offering up even more … private details which, had we not experienced the same hurt, neither of us would have divulged to someone whom we had only just met … and yet, by a chance thread of conversation (we could have stopped at the pleasantries), we had suddenly discovered we were equals. 

Men can’t possibly be capable of loving as deeply as we do*, we concluded.  Marriage is supposed to be worked at if you truly love each other, we agreed.  Our children are beautiful, we comforted.

* Merely an opinion based on personal experience … not a condemnation.

Through our hurt, we connected.  In one chance meeting, two strangers raised each other’s self esteem.  ‘It makes you feel better talking to someone who knows what it feels like,’ I said.  ‘Like you’re not the only one,’ she said.  And although our conversation was cut short when other customers entered the boutique, I am certain that when I left – each of us having told the other to take care, a worthy escalation from politeness to warmth – she was standing a little bit more straight, her chin ever so slightly raised in defiance, reminding herself (I hope) that she is worth fighting for, that she deserves to be truly loved, and that she will be just fine.  These are the things I tell myself each day.

Funny that, don’t you think?  Connecting in such a huge way with a stranger, when I hadn’t really wanted to talk in the first place …  🙂

© 2011