In aid of National Poetry Day

In aid of national poetry day on Thursday, I thought I would go back and have a look at all the poems that I have written on my blog. Turns out its not as easy to find old poems and poetry as I didn’t tag them very well. But I’ve gone back and tagged them all under the category poetry so it should be easier to find – I think. To read other poems that I have written, you can follow this link – Poems. Continue reading “In aid of National Poetry Day”

A Mums Morning Poem


In the darkness of the night and the early morning, 

When monsters lurk just behind the shadow of the door 

And spiders threaten to come out and hang, 

A restless stirring, shows the nightmare is in full swing, 

 

A woman creeps out of bed to start the day. 

A list of things to do running through her head, 

Making sure the girls have everything for school is her first priority 

But its an endless list making her angry and helpless at the same time.

 

This is when meditation needs to be done (and ticked off the list).

A multitasking meditation, deep breaths while ironing,

Knowing that the things that she wants to work on will get left behind again.

When did life become so busy? When did lists become so long?

 

A loud swoosh as a door opens, brings the woman out of contemplation.

There’s a patter of small feet running across the hall searching for a grown up,

And a big relieved hug from two sleepy girls as they find their mummy.

Maybe life will be frustrating for a while but the big hugs are amazing.

 

life-is-not-measured

Writing 201: Poetry – Day 10

Hot Bikram Yoga

I prayer that my body is ready
For contortions in extreme heat
Both legs are firm and steady
Start from the top, down to the feet

‘Keep breathing’ is the mantra
The sweat has already begun
As the teacher begins her banter.
There’s nowhere now to run

What makes me come here?
Why did I drag my friend?
Are you ok? Is that a look of fear?

We fold our body into a bend,
It’ll be over soon, my dear
As we finally lie down at the end.

Writing 201: Poetry – Day 9

THE
snowman
He stands
there in the cold.
He stands there guarding
the house, come snow
or hail. He stands there
with only his hat
and scarf
to
keep him warm.
He stands there
facing the gale force
wind that blows his hat off.
He stands there in the freezing cold.
He stands there wondering what it must
be like to be warm. He stands there facing
an orange glowing window. He stands there
watching the kids play in the cosy room. He
stands there in the bitter cold. Awaiting his
imminent but cruel death. He stands there
until the sun comes out and gives him the
warmth he so craves. He stands there now
only half his size as the rain washes away his black beady eyes.

 

Day 8

My grandmother’s cooking is definitely the best
It’s tasty and flavoursome with out being too spicy.

My mother in laws cooking is good too but not quite the same
It’s very spicy and very heavy and cooked in lots of oil.

I wish I could cook like my grandmother
I learnt from my grandmother so it should be the same
But it comes out a bit different.

The spices are a little raw and not cooked at the right heat and the chapattis are flat
The unami is missing, that magic touch.

My aunts cooking is good and almost like my grandmother’s
With a modern twist which should be so good
But it’s still not quite the same.

Writing 201: Poetry – Day 7

As I walk through our neighbourhood today, l feel happy to be alive.
The wind tries to pull my hair out of my bun as I bravely march on through the blustery wind
Armed with the pushchair and a baby wrapped up warm,
I take a deep breath and carry on.

The lull of the motorway traffic, just outside our neighbourhood sounds like the distant sea crashing against the shore
The screeching of sea gulls, tears down the calm blanket descending around us.
Safe in the knowledge that the fresh air outside is meant to be good for you, I carry on walking.

New houses are being built around us, a new community centre, nursery and gym
Promises of a bright new future in smaller houses and squashed up streets
Brings more people into the area, young couples who need to speed into work.

It safe, our neighbourhood, that’s for sure
As long as your home by ten, not more.
It’s not London you know, it’s not the city that never sleeps
But the pull of family, friends and a new community, keeps us here for now.

Writing 201: Poetry Day 5

An Ode to Holidays

How I love the sun always being switched on
The soft white sand melting into my feet and fingers
The complete stillness of the perfect paradise

How I love the crystal clear waters covering my feet, calf then knees
The exotic multi-coloured fish swimming too close to your toes
And the legs getting used to the cool water from the hot sun

How I love eating out and sleeping in
No cooking, no cleaning, and no guilt
No deadlines, no housework, no lists.

Massages at will and all-inclusive cocktails on the beach
No kids, no stress, no worries,
How I long for those carefree holidays!