Feeling the Change #poetry #poem

Nobody likes change
But why not go with the exchange?
At first it will be strange
But who wants to be the monkey locked up in the cage?

Pain is something our mind creates
People think I’m in sain

From one nerve to the next
Travelling down the neck
From the neck to the chest
Will the brain ever rest
Lest we forget

What is real?
The loss I’ve felt isn’t yet something my heart can feel
Not yet anyway
The pain comes in so many other ways

The Story of the Story Teller #poetry #poem

Drumming on the floor
What isn’t there to adore
It left me wanting more

His beautiful blue eyes
And ginger hair
Makes me want to stare

He sings his songs
Quirky and wise
I love it whis his eye brows rise

Can’t stop thinking of Mr Brown
He makes me feel like I’m wearing a crown

We are in Acton Park
It’s getting dark
We find a tree
So nobody can see

He blows my mind and I honestly think
I could not of met anybody so kind

I already adore and love this man
How can I ask for anymore

If love exists
It’s most definitely this
He can’t always be a pessimist

He shakes
I nod
No words
To be said
This love is just felt
He makes my heart melt

No mushy peas?
Made me weak at the knees

It feels like he read the book
Of my wants and needs

When I look in to his eyes
There is no disguise
What I feel for him is real
But he really does need a good meal

Recovering #poetry #poem

I have no space
I never have time to make grace
Life is one massive race
Race against time

No time is my own
I want to be left alone

Isolation is what I crave
Who would of thought
I was once the rave

In the woods is where I’d like to be

I’m everyone’s branch
But my trunk is corrosive
By roots are decaying
Rotting from the inside out

Each time I produce a new layer
My roots run deep

The Come Down Is… #poetry #poem

Sitting in Stratford
Thinking what is happening
My body aches
With the come down from the alcohol

The come down is … I’m never drinking again
The nightmares are … frightening, from the past, I’m to scared to sleep
The hatred of oneself is … I’m not good enough
The palpitations are … constant and corrosive
The paranoia is … I cant see anyone, nor do I want too.
The panic attacks are … an intense tingling from my toes to my vagina, then to my chest, with feelings of regret
The fear is … the worst thing possible is going to happen
The insecurities are … he deserves better
The emotion is … Misery, I don’t want to die, it makes me want to cry, the alcohol is not a high

My mind is over thinking, all because of drinking.
Dark with despair
Self pity , self worth

The Full Moon Effect #Poetry #poem #Fullmoon

The full moon is near
It makes my body and mind feel queer
I feel manic with panic
No understanding why
It makes me want to cry

I feel crazy
I feel dangerous
I feel horny and most definitely not wise
I think I really should NOT open the wine

The wine is open
One glass will do
I can’t stop drinking, my mind is over thinking

Then come the words of anger and despair
Thoughts that are always there

With the bravery of the moon and the wine
I talk the truth instead of deny

Reason for Grievance #poetry


I’m not sure how I am meant to be feeling
The pains in my chest keep increasing
My heart keeps missing beats
What’s this now? I feel as though I’m not breathing
The ambulance noise is all I want to be hearing
The waiting room is chronic
The memories of Mum being here, reappear
They neglected her, whilst she was admitted here
The doctors, the nurses, ignored the facts
Is my illness real?
Is it anxiety I feel?
The chronicle of my mum’s death
I haven’t had the time to mourn
I was fighting for a post mortem
The funeral arrangements I had to make
Ringing here, ringing there, looking for the answer
Finally, a meeting with the doctor, he blames the cancer
We know this wasn’t right, I continue the fight
The pain spreads from my chest to my ribs
All I want is to be in my mum’s crib
Four hours, four days, four weeks later and still waiting
‘It’s not your heart dear love’ the doctor said
Take these antibiotics and let us have back the bed
He’s far too busy to know exactly what’s wrong with me

A call from the coroner’s secretary
They say a post mortem is necessary
I knew it wasn’t the cancer
Investigation is under way, no answer given will bring back my mum
But if the way the patients are treated, changes, it may help someone
A life could be saved

The palpitations return, my breathing is shallow, my chest is pounding
I lie on the settee, trying not to panic, I need a grounding
Tacky cardiac runs through my mind
I think I need to go to the hospital, because I think I’m going to die
My dad puts his arms around me, and I break down and cry
Cup of tea, two sugars, no milk, ‘I will make you a drink’
My dad tells me I’ve done too much, ‘Calm down, there’s no rush’
In the next breath he tells me there’s forms to be done, but no rush
He’s struggling, I know he is, I’m the only daughter that’s helped

The next week I take a rest, but still suffering with pains in my chest
I visit the doctor, she listens and cares and doing all the necessary checks
Is it illness or anxiety that is causing this?

Still waiting for the coroner’s investigation to be completed
I don’t think I can cope with the answers, but I will not be defeated
I am strong, determined and passionate, just like my mum