RSS Feed

Monthly Archives: August 2017

Reflections…Week Thirty Three

Though the week was weighted, a lot got done. Dr’s sorted, several appointments sorted and it ended, well nearly, on a visit to the petting farm.

The Saturday was an extra sleepover for my son, bonus, and boy did he wear himself out. Not long out of a cast to alter his leg position, he went like a bat out of hell on the play areas, this level of activity is a positive thing as it has helped his leg be in far better condition than if he wasn’t.

The goats, as always here, are my favourites. Goats are second only to dogs on animals I would like as pets; if they ever cross bred a dog and a goat I would get one.  Also here are donkeys, ponies, sheep, ducks, rabbits, guinea pigs, a turkey, chickens, a couple of other birds I have no idea what they are, a pig and a couple of lamas.

All bar the rabbits and the pig could be hand fed, if you were brave enough to get near the lamas you could even hand feed them.

I was, with one of them, then the other came running over – ears back head extended, I feel I should point out that I had seen this behaviour with other people before we got over there and it had been followed by spitting, I was expecting a soaking.

Turning sideways, head facing down, like I had been taught  previously with horses, I waited. It seemed confused, but the ears were still flat against its head, the other came over for food, I would have given it some if it wasn’t for those teeth, They must protrude an inch in front of their lips, not going to chance hand feeding without a bowl. So I ended up dropping some food on the floor, backing away gracefully and staying dry. I cannot say the same however for the next people, I heard the spitting around the corner.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2017

 

Advertisements

With “Monster”… #poetry #poem

 

If you have not read the first poem of the two, Without “Monster”, here is the link….

https://awanderthroughthemind.wordpress.com/?s=without+%22monster%22

With “Monster”

Your not here for shopping,
but to me – entertain.
Metal the chariot,
so shiny – not plain.

Kicking and grabbing,
at hand and at cart.
I will go screaming,
right from the start!

Joyous the screaming,
with a laugh and a grin.
Sound effects are added,
as shopping put in.

I am now hungry,
cheese puffs my snack.
My face is covered,
I wear half the pack.

Screech around the corner,
into “that ladies” isle.
With disapproving stare,
on a face with no smile.

Quietly we go past,
with a smile and a grin.
Off to find Nanna,
what isle is she in?

She heard us coming,
from the first isle.
Asks what your doing,
Say nothing and smile.

And so it continued,
till Nanna was done.
I am her “monster”
Her little Grandson.

‘Monster’…Poem 2 of 2

A § M
21/8/2017

Boxed… #poetry #poem

Boxed

A brain is like a box you know,
filled with knowledge as we grow.
we are taught, our lessons learnt,
bridges crossed, and bridges burnt.

The box it acts like our hard shell,
for our social times – that don’t go well.
The box it fills right to the top,
cause our learning will not stop.

The box sides creak as more’s crammed in,
showing cracks and crumblin.
We can’t remove the useless stuff,
if space required – well that’s just tuff.

Until a breakdown when walls fall,
shows twisted rebar – our cell wall.
The strength it added now traps us in,
kept half the rubble – caught within.

Memories crushed, or leak on out,
not just the ones we can do – without.
Out of our reach beyond the bar,
some to recover, but it’s just too far.

So boxes should you no longer build,
with society lines, from roles we filled.
Controlling, this life, I know it seems,
but it is our life, our hopes, our dreams.

The mind 1 of 2
A § M
22/8/2017

Reflections…Week Thirty Two

canstockphoto8630797I feel tired, not only physically and mentally, but spiritually, for want of a better word. Some times you can get good news, sometimes not so good, and sometimes the good just gets lost in the humdrum of the not so good. The latter is the last couple of months.

A trying time when you have just come of one of your medications.

Life at times feels like trudging up a really steep dry sand dune that keeps growing. Each step is a trudge and you can slide back down if the footing becomes unstable. It can be tempting to sit down for a spell, but then you remember the feeling of sand in your pants, and think better of it.

But like the dunes of Wales it can be possible for things to set root, therefore giving stability and a platform to rest up. Now the grass on the welsh dunes is sharp on the tip, so not the most comfortable place to place ones buttocks, however, when you can sit just out of the wind for a cup of tea – sand free – whilst overlooking the sea, the pin cushion bum is worth it.

So onward I plod, not looking to clutch at straws but rather, trying to reach the strength of the green grass that has planted roots, helped shape the dune and called this place home.

I shall have to sit a while when I get there.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2017

Time to Wake… #poetry #poem

Warning this one has been classed as dark.

 

Time to Wake

Shiraz is my choice
of wine now to have,
for sleep I need some help.
My throbbing head,
my shattered soul,
I take tablets for the pain.

I failed you see,
but I tried so hard,
I even gave it my all.
My best – not enough,
twas never enough,
no matter how hard I tried.

We are told what’s expected – of life,
how to be.
but never how to get there,
A hint would be nice,
or being told a direction,
if ever they did, they never told me.

So I glance at the picture,
the one of my son.
Tell him I’m sorry and cry.
Sorry I failed him,
that I fought and I lost,
but defeat may offer an option.

I tell of a plan that is plotted,
a gift from the sidelines.
Half a bottle has gone.
With it’s vanishing comes weariness,
I need to sleep
to escape – all of this.

Ive made my bed
its time now to lie
and place my head on soft pillow.
My eyes, heavy, they shut,
the darkness it comes,
and with it goes all of the fear.

As the darknesses embraces
acceptance is found.
It offers a strange kind of calm.
My head it is swirling
from all the wine had.
The temperature drops just a little.

I pull up my cover;
the leaves they fall off,
the woodlice scatter from under my body.
When hypothermia starts,
my body to shake.
A spider – walks over my hand.

A § M
5/8/2017

The Old Room… #poetry #poem

The Old Room

I used to come here,
tis a place from the past,
the walls they store a shared memory.
Of laughter and tears,
of shedding ones fears,
and building a sense of comradely.

Supplies neatly stacked,
on shelving where stored,
groups paintings adorned all the walls.
But cluttered now is,
the stock all around,
with paint splatter marring the walls.

Where once did I sit,
could not now I fit,
the table it is overflowing.
As I looked around,
no sanctuary found,
I feel as though I’m in mourning.

A § M
5/8/2017

 

The Song … #poetry #poem

The Song

Throbbing of base
vibrating the air,
as guitars they are a strumming.
Sung in a gruff voice,
with a pace that is fair,
tells a tale of epic adventure.

In harmony they play,
till one breaks away,
guitar it does a sweet solo.
They return to the tale,
the crowd it goes pale,
grim warning the moral this venture.

A § M
5/8/2017