Pain and suffering, especially in grief is sometimes so complex that no matter what you do, you cannot seem to get the balance and so you just have to wait it out……
Sometimes you just have nothing to say, at least not out loud. You have plenty to say, in your head and the incessant talking doesn’t stop. You may want to say it out loud, but you can’t, or you won’t for fear. Fear of letting go of the hurt and the pain and letting the emotions take you on a journey where you do not want to go. Fear of causing hurt and pain, to others because you just can’t articulate it properly without emotions getting in the way and muddling it all up.
Like the force of a tsunami thrusting, pushing and propelling at swift unstoppable speed, relentlessly, ruthlessly and causing so much destruction and damage, but it is impossible to stop it. The carnage it will cause, is unthinkable, and so, you keep it all in, hold it down, squeeze it, suppress and restrain it.
The pain will dull woefully , the hurt will scar deeply , the emotions will become emotionless and as the carnage unfolds within, so shall you carry the burden of being the source of their misery…..
Though the tides will ebb and flow and the night will turn to day The steps that go one, in front of the other Will always carry you, along the way….. Hearts filled with love and sorrow Will carry over, all the tomorrows that you do not have But live on through those left behind who will tell stories of their encounters, and we will smile, as we recall, with such joy, the love and laughter that we once shared and so, you will live on another day, and more, until we gather together again, and dance and laugh and hold you tight, in our arms…..
I wasn’t born into royalty. I am not a celebrity. I was born free, into a family that loved me and I love them, but does that make my life perfect? Should I perceive that a king, queen, Prince, Princess has a perfect life? Should I envy and look up to a celebrity and think, they have it all sussed, they made it, they have the perfect life…. Does anyone have a perfect life. I don’t think so. What I do know, is that we have knowledge, inside knowledge, of our own lives, because, we live it. We may have opinions on others’ lives, but that is all they are, opinions. The world is divided on Prince Harry. The world has been following Prince Harry since Before he was even born… Imagine that! I couldn’t think of anything more intrusive that being continually photographed, followed, objectified, critsised and taunted… He has a voice about his own life, his thoughts, his feelings. Let him be free to speak it! This poem is in response to Jeremy Clarkson latest view calling his book tosh, and piers morgan’s usual rant over him and his wife…. Who are they to judge!
Where do they get off, so called celebrities, with their view of ‘tosh’.
Clarkson, Morgan, love to rant, but feel the Prince shouldn’t, or can’t?
A tell all memoir of his life, of course, there’s lots who’ll blame his wife!
Opinions, opinions, view points and all, but isn’t he the one, that can recall it all?
I’m neither a Royalist nor celebrity struck, but I’m sick and tired of reading such muck.
How can a celebrity think his path is right, and people should support them, in their ‘toshful’ plight?
Horses for courses in the lives that we lead. What right has a celebrity, to preach how to succeed.
Their life is their life, only they can live it. Not perfect, not wholesome, and could change in a minute!
What happened to the message that we all should ‘be kind’. Then what gives you the right, to speak out your mind?
Were you born into royalty and told what to do. A flash in your face, media following you?
From the day you were born, they just won’t relent. You’re expected to conform and you have the intent.
To do as your told, for the sake of the crown, but even the mighty have to fall down.
Break free from the chains and get out of the game, like an animal that’s wild, and doesn’t want to be tamed.
But wants to roam free, walk his own winding path, and show to the world, the life that he had.
So many will tell him what a ‘privilege’ he had, but if he doesn’t want it, does that make him bad.
He’s scorned if he does he’s scorned if he doesn’t, told to do this, told that he mustn’t.
Let the man be to live his own life, a person, a father a husband to his wife.
Who are we all to court contraversy, just let him speak, if it sets him free.
How many celebs have written a book, about their own lives and want us to look?
To see their life, from their own side, some of it shameful but balanced with pride.
We are all just people, walking this planet, born in to circumstance, we none of us planned it.
Stop casting aspirations on what he should do. Keep guarded your counsel on what YOU should do.
Stop with the shouting, the words of disdain, pointing the finger and causing such pain.
Keep your opinions in your own little minds and remember the message to ‘please be kind’
How can we know if people don’t tell, how it was for them, whether heaven or hell.
Perspective and context, only they really know. So big mouthed celebrities just ‘let it go’
You were born a nobody just like me. Be wise be humble, with an ounce of dignity!
Sleep alludes me, though I am so very tired. The sun cracks through the opened window, early in the mornings, and the dawn chorus awakens me. Such a contrast to the labouring snores blasting my ears as he sleeps beside me, deep in his slumber, oblivious to raucous he makes or the sound of the dogs barking from across the garden.
My mind wanders to our new house, wondering how soon before we get the keys. The start to our new life. How shall I dress this one to make it a home? Which colours and fabrics and oddments shall I use. A blank canvas screaming for life and colour.
As I lay awake, I try to escape the noise and get lost deep in the kaleidoscope of my imagination until finally, sleep will surrender itself to me and I too will be oblivious….
If anything I prefer dogs over cats. Having said that, I wouldn’t be cruel or leave them out. So what do you do with a stray???
feeding time…. author’s own
We always had dogs, growing up, in our our house. Most of them your usual mongrel or mixed breed, whichever you prefer to call them. We loved them and they loved us.
When my eldest girl was 8 years old I promised her I would get her a dog. We were moving to Ireland and I intended to be home more, taking a part time job, instead of working full time. This would be a factor in getting a dog, so it wouldn’t be on its own all day.
We go a lovely mixed breed dog and called her Sally. Half sheep dog half collie and she looked like an old English Sheep dog. She was such a loyal and friendly dog and we had her for 10 years. It was pure heart break when she died. So much so I swore I would never get another.
People often say that after drinking too much and getting so drunk. They swear they will never touch the drink again. Like the drunk, with his self promised promises, I did indeed relent and get another dog a few years after Sally died.
This time it was at the begging of my other children (twins) who at the time were 14. We got a little miniature Yorkshire terrier and called her Indiana. She was cute. Not very smart, but cute and she was loved. Sadly, she came to a very sad end and was hit by a car after getting out of the drive. It was torture and we were all devastated…. again
‘Never again’ I said, and I meant it. It is too heartbreaking.
Again, I relented. A year or so after Indiana died, my eldest asked me if I would take a little west highland terrier, who would face certain death if I didn’t….. Well that isn’t blackmail….. much!
I took the said little Westie, Jack, and he too became part of the family and stole our hearts. He was 6 months old when we got him, but by the time he was 12, he was quite ill and deteriorated very quickly. We prepared ourselves to be heartbroken again. Indeed, we were. That was 15 months ago now, and I can categorically say, I will not have another dog. It is too too sad knowing, that they will pass before you and I don’t want to set myself up again for heartache. However, watch this space!
During the years of the dogs we have also been frequented by stray cats…. It started with the farmer at the bottom of our garden. He had cats, but they would wander down to us and of course, we began to feed them as they always seemed hungry and anyway, they are good to keep the mice and rats away.
After the farmer died the cats were taken by the WSPCA to be re-homed. However the odd stray would still come and hang around our house. As we live in the Country I would feed them as they are a good deterrent for the mice and rats.
Rusty has been coming to us now for a few years. We feed him daily and tend to his medical needs when he has gotten into a scrape, but he is feral and goes away after feeding, grateful for his daily nosh. Sometimes he hangs about in the yard, but he is a bit of a loner.
About 6 months ago or so, a black cat appeared. Quite a friendly cat with a lovely shiny coat. I advertised on all the local platforms trying to find its owner but to no avail. he would come, around the same time as Rusty and then off he would trot, back down the drive and to, well I am guessing, his own home.
Cats are like that aren’t they, they like to wander off.
Anyway, not only was he coming ‘at feeding time’, he would now push rusty out of the way and start eating his food. Well, I couldn’t have that, so reluctantly, I would also put a plate out for him. I couldn’t let him watch on, and not give him anything.
Black cat, affectionately named Blacky, how original, is cheeky though and if we leave open a window, will climb in and lay up on a bed or a sofa like he is King of the hill. What a cheek!
Rusty, wouldn’t have the same amount of cheek or nerve, he is far more ‘reserved’ and not so presumptuous or impertinent as Blacky.
This morning, I went to go out the door to feed them. Both of them on the step, waiting and the black cat, actually had the nerve to slap poor old rusty in the face to get him out of the way, so he could get the lion’s share. I was utterly gobsmacked!
Because of this I wrote a little ditty….. I hope you enjoy it!
Cats
I feed these cats
They are not my cats
But aside from that, which is a fact
I feed these cats
I don’t like cats
But they are good scare the rats
So I feed the cats
So they can do that
1st came the ginger one
Feral, shy, coy
I’m only grateful, that he is a boy
Takes his food then off he goes
To where I wonder,
Nobody knows
Then came blacky
He is black
He is a more forward cat
He is not at all shy, not one little bit
In fact, I would say, he is a cheeky little git
He pushes in first when I open the door
Knocks rusty out the way
Hoping he will get more
He is quite a greedy black cat
I cannot say much more than that
Soon as he’s fed off he goes, strutting
Wagging his tail, and swaging his but
In all the style like a cat walk model
Unlike rusty with his old man waddle
Sits on the bench like he is the boss
Licking his fur and shakes off the dross
Sits all day, til he gets a more peckish
And scratches at the door like it’s some sort of fetish
I looked out once and guess what I saw
Roland rat scurrying on all fours
Blacky the cat, didn’t even blink an eye
Let old Roland just strut on by
Am I too soft or feeding these too much
Cos I’m sure it’s nature they should hunt their lunch
Off he goes not even a hissing sermon
Coming from the cat to this passing vermin
Rusty plods back late in the evening
Head hung low, as if he’s been grieving
Jumps up on the window sill
Patiently waiting for me to give in
Black cat though has no such reserve
Can’t even open a window, cos in he will swerve
He has no shame nor decent good manners
I do protest and I don’t mean with banners
I chase him out like a cat and mouse game
I’m sure he’s laughing cos he has no shame
He’s quite cunning that little black cat
But he won’t best me you can be sure of that
Rusty comes like a big drowned rat
When the heavens open, but I let this cat
Come in side and eat his grub
He seems so grateful and I give him a rub
Mr black cat I swear has a home
He’s Just so greedy he comes here to roam
Costing me a fortune, cos I couldn’t leave him out
When I’m buying all the cat food to share it about.
But when it’s raining I don’t let him in
Now it’s my time with a big Cheshire grin
I watch him dash back out of the drive
Properly sulking and goes home to hide
He’s not one bit feral, shy or coy
He’s just cunning this little boy
Edging his bets to get all he can
That’s when I know, that animal is like man
Blacky with his full tummy, now he is swaggering off….. authors own pic.
Relay shun ships 