Dear Child

This section is poetry about lessons I may have learnt or things people have said or things I wish I knew.

Daddy I’m sick

Daddy I’m sick

I cry every school night

Kids at school laugh

Talk about it sometimes

I stare at the sharpener

They said kids do it too

They’ve been talking about how to do it

Kids can be cruel

Daddy I’m sick

And you have duty of care

I know you know I’m suffering

I feel like your not there

I stare at the sharpener

It looks back at me too

Daddy I’m sick

Don’t make me go to school

The kids they all laugh

The teachers do to

Daddy I’m sick

And I cant put myself through

Daddy I’m sick

Daddy I’m sick

Daddy I’m sick

Where are you?

deep sweets

deep sweets

in deep dreams…
lands of unknown,
friends from unfamiliar places,
faces hidden,
sidewalks frosting over,
I remember walking down it,
the path it became, slimmer and slimmer,
in deep sweet dreams…
×
mum used to say
sweet dreams
but the dreams all blend,
faze into the days, dramatic, hectic,
mangled mess,
shouting and arguments,
worries I can’t control,
and I sweat and toss and turn and cant seem to have a long peaceful sleep anymore,
in deep sweets,
I try to picture my mum reading a story to me,
or soothe with music,
but it doesn’t seem to drown out
the loud days,
and the anxious feelings,
and hearing the whisper,
before it slowly drifted away along with her,
sweet dreams sweet,
and im frozen,
fixated,
looking at the ceiling,
there’s nothing sweet about my dreams I’m dreaming.

late night shift

Tonight I’m working the late shift

push up bra and cranky hips

this baby won’t go to sleep

I see figures walking

into the creek

Families

oh family

mum and dad’s infront of me

hand in hand, together be

Smiling laughing happily,

tonight I’m working the late shift,

no crying child will bring back tears,

no loneliness will bring me fears,

dirty feet,

torn up hair,

and dirty sheets ,

families,

oh families,

she holds his hand so tragically,

Smiling like there’d never be,

a single night of  loneliness,

dragging into the night.

 

You made me

Let’s kick off the bank holiday with a nice poem, I wrote this one in the 5 minute slot at women of words last week and went up on the stage to share. Something that’s still new to me but my new found love and enjoyment. Thankyou for your on going support.

Heres the one who made me :

All through the years

so many now

candles lit, cakes made, lights blown,

You came with me

Your little baby grows

Grown out

Given away

or thrown

You gave me the strength

more than you’ll ever know

I was 16, you was 6 pounds

Now your 7 years

Yes, you

Created me

Made me into the mum I am

I thought the things I couldn’t do

I now can

My 7 year old daughter

Thankyou..

Pretending

;

sometimes, pretending makes it easier

sometimes pretending is a metaphor for a plaster

pretending not quite healing

covering it up but not really looking at the problem.

Sometimes pretending can heal people forget about the odd scratch’s

its the deeper ones that require more attention that cant be ignored

ignoring cuts that need attention

lead to infections and complications

arguments

abandonment

&pain.

Tantrum

I hold my legs up in the air

Kick and scream I just don’t care

You hold me up and I still wince

I’m a child

Yes, I’m a kid

I boot you so hard from my frustration

Don’t swear at me

Despite temptation

I scratch and claw

I want my own way

You say tomorrow

I want today!

You can’t stop me from screaming

Fairies, and wings on monkeys

Let me believe in

You keep saying I should listen to you

And I see your tired eyes too

But I want what I want and I will get it

But I’m a child

eventually I will forget it.

 

 

 

 

Image from

https://onestoryslinger.wordpress.com/2013/09/

Hurt.

Someone will always hurt you.

the feelings of being hurt will always be felt,

sometimes the hurt is wrong,

and sometimes they may have never meant to hurt you,

when they don’t mean to hurt you, you have to accept it was an accident,

knowing the differences is better for your wellbeing,

allowing yourself to believe that ‘hurt’ is always the worst,

can destroy you.

But there’s always love somewhere beneath,

You just have to believe,

Hurt comes and hurt goes,

It morphs in different forms,

Anger within the hurt allows us to grow,

Are your never going through it alone. Goodbye hurt.

 

 

A boyfriend doesn’t equal a fairytale ending

And now I think I know what she meant 

By she knew what I was after 
I didn’t want a man 
A boyfriend 
Or anything like that 
I just wanted a home.

School Bus

I don’t know much about it

I never really got the bus to school

But I got the bus to my friends

A couple of times

I hated standing in the line

I was bullied lots and pushed behind

But I would still try and smile

My inner child was strong

Then when I managed to get up on to the bus

I remember smelling this horrendous musk

Teenage body spray ‘impulsive’

Impulsive I was

Hormones high and adolescent

P.E bags and a sweaty scent

No rules no teachers

After school

So pupils acted like stupid fools

No I really didn’t like the bus

We all know the quiet ones sit at the front

The bullies on the top deck at the back

Booming music out of their Sony Ericsson’s

As soon as the engine kicked in

That’s when you knew you was in for a ride

Not the good type

Felt like the shell of the bus was holding on to the wheels by its fingernails

I’m so glad I don’t have to go on the school bus to my friends anymore

But now that I’m older

And I see school buses pass

How I long to be younger

Perhaps I could put up with the little things better

Now I’m aware

Grown into my fur

It would be nice to visit that friend again

Be young again

Go back one day.