Category: thoughts

Wisdom…..

What do you think gets better with age?

Some are born with more than others, but I feel, as we age we grow more wise.

A poem I wrote a while back for young girls/women is, I think, an example of wisdom.

This Body…

Don’t be fooled by this body
so slim and so lean
Caressing the contours
Having boys wet dreams
These arms are so strong
Though feeble they look
And the breasts are more
Worthy, than for you just to suck
These legs are so shapely, smooth and long
But will only be open for who I say, belong

Do not assume that it’s yours for the taking
This body of mine, took years in the making
It stretched and it grew, filled out and amazed
the strength that it carried in the blood and the veins
This body of mine one day will grow old
The breasts you desire will sag I am told
The legs long and shapely, may fill more with fat
I cannot be fairer or clearer than that

So do not be fooled by this body of mine
Instead you must love what is there in my mind
For there you will find the truth, I confess
The sexy, the funny, the intelligent prowess
My mind is the thing you must first desire
For my body will only, set yours on fire
And too, one day yours will fail to perform
So for me I make sure, it is you I adore
The body is nothing but bones and mere flesh
But the mind you see is where we become enmeshed
A wondrous source of beauty and wit
It’s here where the fire of desire should be lit
For it will grow sharper and lead us the way
To a future together in all that we say
The body of course, will bring pleasure and joy
But do not be fooled or distracted, dear boy
If you’re up for the challenge, then of course let’s begin
Soon we will know which one shall win
The pressure is on, you must decide
But do not no fear, there is no place to hide

©️ Caroline S. T

Barefoot…

What are you most worried about for the future?

I need to live, healthily to the age of 100 at least!

I am very easily bored and very curious… This combination gives me ants in my pants…

What worries me most, apart from the usual health and safety of family, is that I won’t live long enough to see and do all the things I do not yet know exactly what it is that I want to see and do…. I just know i dont want to stand still….

I want to taste food I’ve never heard of… Walk paths I’ve never trodden, see sunsets and sunrises in places I only dream of.

I want to not sit still, or be tamed or claimed and walk freely, unburdened and grateful for the blessing of each new day.

I want to hear the genuine laughter of the people who think themselves poor. Who have nothing but hope and love to give. I want to dance barefoot with them in the sand and let them understand that they are richer than the richest people who measure their wealth by the material things they own and by the size of their bank balance……

My fear for the future is that life passes me by…..

Humble pie…

What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?

The most delicious thing I have ever eaten was a variety of tastes from all the members of my family, that was sat around the table, each vying for attention, giving their opinions and each throwing in their two penneth worth and showing me how to eat my humble pie, listen, apologise and learn from my own mistakes….

This is when I knew for sure that they knew they had freedom to express their feelings and views…. Mother is not always right, even if her heart is in the right place….

Author: itsjustnoteasy

Decades

I saw a girl running across the green, the park, the garden of the pub


A camping ground attached to the side and the shannon river running at the bottom of it.


Im sitting at a table, enjoying the sunshine and my cool glass of beer quenching my thirst.


As I look at her it strikes me that she looks like me when i was her age, 11, perhaps 12.


Her dark hair lapping and slapping off her back as she runs.

Her calves carry her slight frame with ease.


And as she dissapears out of view


Like a Gazelle my mind races through the last 4 decades or so


Knowing time was so fleeting


And soon that 12 year old won’t know where the time went…..

Acres lake.. Co. Leitrim

Tell me…

Tell me your secrets

Deep burried lies

hidden and wrapped

inside your disguise

Tell me your heartaches

The fractured and broken

That keep you tight-lipped

of hurt unspoken

Tell me your sorrows lost in your grief,

swirling and whirling,

time robbed like a thief

Tell me your wishes,

your hopes, your desires

Ambitions to be realised,

goals to aspire

Now tell me your worth, your value, esteem

Spill out your guts, its time to come clean……

Lost and found

Lost and found

And there he was, frozen, still, eyes wide, teeth shining, tail erect, holding my gaze, waiting, both of us, for the other to make a move.

Not what I expected to see at the bottom of the garden, my sanctuary, sweet smell of honeysuckle, boxed in with the structured walled hedge.  My get away from the noise of the house, the chaos, and now, each of us startled, lost in our thoughts and fears. The wolf cub and me, wondering what next? Is each of us friend or foe?

My gaze softened, I smiled and slowly held out my hand as I bent down, to beckon him and to my surprise, he yielded and together we sat, quiet amongst the honeysuckle, knowing we’d been found.

For national poetry day across the pond in the UK…..

The Foreigners….

Do you ever notice how we behave in any given situation. How treat, react and respond to people and things. How, at times, we have a sense of entitlement and ownership and will do whatever is necessary to get what we want, no matter how big or small, or who we may trample on. Even the silly things, can turn us into competitive monsters!

authors own…

The shuffling, the whispers, eyes flitting, one way then the other. Hushed voices. Observing each other with the suspicion of a Russian spy, and with such curiosity that it could well lead to what happened to the cat!

Contemplation of their own moves, their own tactics. I can hear the cogs turning in their minds, even my own, guessing which one will succeed. Some look up, heavenward, some look away, trying to be nonchalant, undeterred, unaffected.

They pretend they are not playing the game, but i’ve been watching them closely. It’s easy when you’re on the other side of the fence.

Human behaviour…. Sure don’t we think we are civilised, superior, dignified and righteous? At times we are. Just see how we meet and greet our neighbour, the local shop keeper, the milkman, the priest. Look at the great deeds some do for others. So caring, so selfless, so civilised.

But, put us amongst the different nations, put us in a different country, a hot country. A hot country with a pool! Well, civilisation is at it’s finest….There, early in the morning the queue forms. People waiting anxiously for the man with the key. They are beginning to twitch and sweat under the heat of the sun and the weight of their towels, their many, many, many towels, which they are going to relieve themselves of when they lay claim to THEIR sun loungers, poolside, shade side, sunny side.

Just where the hell is the man with the key to the door, the door to paradise, the key to the sacred sun lounger area beside the pool?

Ahhhh, here he comes, eyeing the growing crowd, he slows his step and looks at them with confusion, fear, horror! They inch even closer to the gate, muttering and mumbling, elbows at the ready to nudge their neighbour out of the way, trample on them if they must, in the stampede that is about to erupt…

But, key man, the keeper of their focus and desire stands there bemused, confused, belwidered, not knowing what to do next. The energy is electric, the tension is palpable but like any brave solder, he ploughs through the malevolent crowd, makes his way to the front, unscathed and watches, in jubilent amazement and wonder at the idiotic, half-witted behaviour of the foreigners……

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

The Long Sleep

Sad times can evoke and trigger such good times through memories. I count myself lucky that I have so many happy memories of a life lived and shared with loved ones…..

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

It was strange passing by the doorway

Knowing you no longer occupied the room

The first time I went in, after you died

I cried

I looked around at the remnants of you

The hospital bag, clean pyjamas, slippers and

Unwrapped sweets

Wurthers originals, your favourite,

The same initials as your name W. O

William O’Reilly

all I could do was stare at it all

The picture on the bedside cabinet of padre pio

Your ‘pal’, sure didn’t he always look after you

Your holy medals, always kept in your breast pocket

Next to your heart, to keep you safe

and your easy start, the ‘inhaler’ has given you  

your Last breath, its last puff

and now all this stuff in this 10 ft. sq. room

will no longer will be touched by you

But you cannot be wiped clean from them

You are engrained and sustained in it all

and the holy Medals, in the palm of my hand

will still withstand life and death and I will never forget

your laugh, your smile, your funny ways, you.

They come with me on my journey

And I keep them safe and they keep me safe

Knowing you are at the heart of them

The smell of cigarettes filled the air and the stub in box

Of your cardigan pocket, a lasting legacy of your last

Kiss, where your lips wrapped around its filter

And you drew in the nectar of your addiction

No contrition or remorse or feeling bad

They were your comfort, your solace, and I get that

I loved them too, before I finally gave them up.

Now, more than two months on since you passed

as I stand in your room

No sign of you, no sight nor smell,

the paint and paste swallowed it up

but my mind can recall it all

the ghosts of this room

once my own, spent teenage years in a new life,

a new house, a new bedroom, and yours

was down the hall then

almost 40 years have passed since

I last slept in there

I remember it so well

Me and Jackie, giggling and talking

All night, until morning broke

when sleep finally muffled our chatter

and found us

So much joy and laughter contained

Within the walls

Yet so much sorrow, but

Now, as I slip in between the sheets

And darkness falls on the room

I remember the ghosts of both you and her

I drift and dream of great times

Good and happy memories

and as the long sleep takes me

on a sea of peace and calm

happily, I sail away with the

ghosts in my heart