Morning after

Tripity tippity cross creaking floorboards
like a ballet dancer teetering with no sound
tiny poppy red painted toe~wards
soft feet on hard wood, to safer ground

clutching crumpled rumpled clothing
holding breath; bottom bitten lip
she wobbles in the half lit door frame
half caught gasp, clasps her disheveled slip

he rolls, lightly unconscious: slow sonorous snores
shifts, settles, stretches: low mumble
dreams, lightly smiling, of the night before
she wrestles: unyielding fabric fumbles

playing silent hopscotch with stockings, and hitched skirt
teeth grasping, shoe straps dangling
as she buttons up her morning after shirt
low, but heavy breathing.. scanning

Got everything?
Forgot anything?
Wish she could:
Rueful thought

She peers down a darkened corridor, it’s unfamiliar
territory here.. vague drunken flashbacks
as she retracts, retreats, hastily eager
for fresh air and covered tracks

The morning girl after the night before, seeks a door,
not a man: not a complicated convo
over coffee chat about ‘me, you and the future’
she’s not romantically inclined, so…

She got her thing:
no strings
attached -
door, unlatched

And she’s gone.

Moving on

I’m going to quote an old, favourite book of mine: Illusions, by Richard Bach. It has a lot of simple insights in life, and could be called ‘new age’ – but I like to think of it as a simple story with a lot of good thought provoking quotes; one of which is:

In order to live free and happily, you must sacrifice boredom.

It is not always an easy sacrifice.

Humans are creatures of habit: we fall into routines, despite ourselves – we like our security blankets of the known and the safe, the things we do regularly, the people we accept as friends, as partners, the jobs we do everyday to earn the money to enable us to do the things we like to do: eat at a favourite restaurant, go to see the movies, a night in with loved ones , pizza and TV.

But are we really happy? Are we focused and engaged each morning that we get up, shower, brush our teeth, comb our hair, get dressed and hit the road to work? Morning coffee wake up, mid-morning water cooler chat, lunchtime sandwich, check the news, afternoon slog, evening hit the rush hour and home. Food, TV, book, bed. Maybe we mix it up every so often of an evening or weekend with a session at the movies.

We have commitments to family and friends and work.

We are incredibly habitual creatures: but the key thing is.. how often do we stop and ask ourselves.. is this what I want to be doing? Is this really the lifestyle I want? Are these the people I really want to be with? Is this the job I want to stay in? Do I even think about what will happen in a year’s time? In five years time?

Some things can not be changed – if you have children, then you obviously are long term committed to their future, so some compromises have to be made to lifestyle. Support is essential. The same goes for dependent family members who may be ill or fragile.

But it does not stop you from shaking things up every so often and saying: I want a change. I want to learn something new. I want to make new friends. I hate my job. I want to push myself further…

I think that letting go of habit, of boredom, the accepted routine is very hard for us to do. It scares us, and challenge is hard to deal with: but I think it is entirely important for us every once in a while to look up from the everyday drudgery and to try and tap into something different. Try a different route home. Read a new book that isn’t a standard crime thriller. Go on a weekend trip into the wild countryside instead of a shopping trip. Ask if that friend that’s not called you back for months is really worth the effort. Question the drip drip feed of reality TV being pumped down your cable – why not watch a natural history show? Ask if the work you are doing is satisfying you – and is there any way to move to something you do enjoy? Can you change even little things about the focus of your work.. can you move sideways instead of out?

I’m asking a lot of questions here, because I think that’s what we should all be doing. Constantly. Never live life on automatic; don’t sleepwalk your way through it. Measure your life by the changes, however small, that you mark your steps by. Regret is the feeling of loss of never having followed your desires and instincts – of having let go and fallen to apathy and impotent acceptance.  There is a need to move on, to break out of old routines and expectations – but by actively thinking, being engaged in the now and in control.

concentrate

Life appears at the moment to be
An endless flow of coffee & tea:
Caffeine fuelled
Brain cells fused
Flurry of concentrated activity.
Phewee

An Original

Last night I had cause to muse on something I have been seeing a lot more recently online. I could liken it to watching a magpie flitting from tree to tree, catching bright berries, whilst dipping and flitting down to the ground to grasp a shard of shiny glass, a golden sliver of cigarette packet paper, a glinting gaudy cellophane wrapper…. to lift it all back to its’ nest to weave a palace of wonder.

We associate magpies as the cheeky jack o japes, the thief with a cackling laugh, that signature rat-tat-tat-tat caw … sneaking up and lifting the precious golden chain from the unattended table. Opportunistic yet likeable, the knave of birds creates a grotto of shiny trinkets to entice a female back to his lair of bibelot, baubles and beads.

I bring allegory to the tale, because so many times I have visited websites, and blogs, online diaries, which upon first appearance seem so original – full of beautiful poems and delicious imagery, shards of philosophy and glints of wistful wonder… thoughts caught on page in prose.

My love, is like a red, red rose…

But, like the magpie, it’s all been gleaned and gathered from other places, people, times: nested together on a site to impress. I know, and understand that many people have difficulty expressing themselves creatively, and so they gather imagery and words from others to express their own desires – to impress others and perhaps gather them in to make a connection.

My only disappointment is that often they fail to credit the original individual who gifted the world with their own brand of prose, poetry, philosophy, imagery – instead passing it off as their own work.

The magpie could be forgiven for stealing the shiny treasure: we all appreciate and can share beautiful creativity – but humans, should at least acknowledge where they gathered their diamonds, the words and imagery they gathered and showed, so that others may dive deep into the fountainhead and garner more precious pearls.

Ostara

small squares of gold
shimmer, like heat haze
on the crazy paving:
glass shards of sunshine cutting
warm lines into the earth
waking, strangely, life
in spring green pale buds
struggling upwards

push away the dirt
reach out
stretch, touch, feel
unfurl

leaves, sigh
up on high
in swaying bowers
as warmed winds
flutter through
blossomed cherry flowers
and ozone lifts
drowsied bees
from slumbering deep
winter’s sleep

dancing daffodils bob
playful frilled saffron petals
casting marionette shadows
whilst flitting sparrows
dip and weave
‘gainst blackbirds
spring evensong

even as we long
for summer days
pleasant memories
shimmer like those sunshine rays
and warm the lines to our heart
waking, strange sensation
elation – hope rises
green and bright

like morning larks
in hazy silver light.

covenant

She came to realise: being alone is a chance, not a loss. Not one half, but whole; the prize – integral, emotional, redress: hearts promise.