February 2012
7 posts
Creative Writing Course
Today I began my creative writing course. It’s worth 10 credits towards my fine art degree.
I was so happy to meet our tutor. The main reason is because he says he is obsessed with “place and space”, the same way that I am. When I look through my poems I’m sure over half of them have something to do with home, or have some kind of an analogy involving houses. I...
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The Butterfly Crossing
Down my road,
Take a right turn.
You’ll find the place
I call the butterfly crossing.
The road is cobbled
Double yellow lines are
Painted crudely,
And there are four
Wings of road, leading
Off in different directions.
I cross diagonally.
I always look down one
Of those wings,
Towards the barbican
Where I can see
The sails of boats
Proud against
The sea and sky.
I feel the...
I always seem to be appologising
But the truth is, I never want to write here when I’m feeling like this. I don’t want to annoy anyone. I’m going to the doctors tomorrow about everything. My last problems began just like this and I don’t want it to escalate into something that gets in the way of everything I have right now.
I’m sorry I haven’t been writing - I really am… but...
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No.
I’d sooner
They burnt
Than see them
In the hands of someone
Who would cast the pieces aside
Like parts of a ghastly and incomplete jigsaw.
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Just a House
It’s never just a house.
And it’s never
Going to be alright
If I can never climb
Those stairs on hands and knees
And look out my landing window
And remember everything.
No-one will ever understand how
It is never going to be
“Just a house” to me.
My Old World
I’m going to miss every
Wall and corner of that place.
Every box of a room
I used to shut myself
In and cry. Every
Hole in the curtain
The curl of a piece
Of dusty wallpaper.
I will miss the creak of
The landing hallway,
The yellow of the bulbs
That outlined my door
As I tried to stay awake.
I will miss the decorations
We chose tenderly from
The local B&Q, I will
Miss...
Anonymous asked: Hello, are you alright? Havent heard from you. How was your night shift?
January 2012
50 posts
Night Shift
My night shift went really well. We could go at our own pace, get everything done and then chat in between the checks to keep ourselves going. I didn’t get too tired until I started walking home at 7:30 in the morning, and then I slept until 1pm and woke up with lots of energy. We managed to go and get a few new things for the flat, we got some new bedding because Phil has been coughing a...
I’m doing my first ever night shift tonight. Todays shift at work was absolutely fine, I came out feeling really happy… I was dreading working tomorrow with the people who practically bully me… so I opted for a night shift instead. I honestly think that staying up all night would tire me out less than being on shift with people who set out to make my day like hell. We’ll...
Thank you
Thank you to EVERYONE who sent me messages this evening, they have all really made my day and made me feel a bit clearer about what I need to do. I am going to have a nice soak in the bath and have a bit of “me time” before my shift in the morning, where I will attempt to sort things out. I have called my mum, and she fully supports me and will back me up if anything goes wrong....
My goodness, my poem has been featured! Wow what a great thing to come home to… thank you so much to whoever did that! Hello and welcome, new followers :) Thank you for your support.
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Today you punched a hole in the wall.
We’ll get some filler,
Match the magnolia paint.
It’ll be okay, you say.
But my lips are tight
And white. Throat’s
Filled up with tears
Too sharp to swallow,
Because I wonder if one day
You might punch a hole in me.
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lookingforwisdom replied to your video: I’m attempting to learn british sign language….
Is it like American Sign Language with a classy accent?
Haha! American Sign Language is completely different to British Sign Language, from what I gather ASL has a one handed alphabet and BSL you use both hands, signs mean different things in each country. I have no idea whether BSL is...
WatchI’m attempting to learn british sign language. This is what I’ve got so far!
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Purple and Navy Blue
It’s those grainy photos
As dark sets in
That capture the best moments.
White teeth beam in the
Past-ten summer evening
I can almost smell the hay
From the old barn we’re sat in
And cider brewing nearby.
It’s as the sun goes,
Behind the hill we’re watching,
That pictures turn purple
And navy blue, and
Our smiles turn to stars.
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The smallest grains
Filter through my hands
And the harder I hold
The faster they fall.
I could catch them
But only by risking
Throwing everything else away.
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I had a hard day at work today. It upset me. I’m used to being on the floor, answering call-bells whenever they rang, being able to give personal care to anyone who needed it, but today my senior decided I should take the tea trolley which meant I couldn’t do any personal care until I had finished dealing with the food. (I later found out that she gave me this job because she...
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My first thought when I woke this morning was: ”I don’t really mind the sound of my alarm clock, but I would rather wake up to something more tangible, like a fox or a badger or something.”
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It didn’t hurt this time, and that surprised me. He’s long gone, I used to hate him, but now I just feel a small, nagging sense of dislike. He put me through Hell and back, but I’m better now and my life is amazing.
It did get me thinking. There is only one way he could hurt me again, and that would be if he moved here. I could walk down the road minding my own business...
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The Pretty Bird
It was a little bird singing that made me look up. It was a cold September morning and I could imagine the little feathered thing with his bright yellow beak might brighten it. I remember that the sky was a piercing white where the sun had hidden behind the clouds, and the shadows were long and grey. It was when I looked up to spot the bird that I noticed him; the silhouetted form of a man in...
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Where I Hide my Pens
Got them stuffed in
Jam jars on my desk,
Between notebooks,
One is fastened in
The back of my diary.
I fit them into my bags,
The glovebox in the car
I’ve got them in my
Bedroom drawers,
Beneath my pillows,
Behind the photos.
I’ve got some hung from string
Beside the calendar,
I tuck them behind
My ears or just keep
One in my the
Folds of my hands.
I have them in
My...
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Red Balloons
The sky is littered
With green stars
Where we used to let go
Of our red balloons
And send them up
Into the night.
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Imperfections
Did you ever notice
How nothing is ever perfect?
Blotches of ink fall like tears
Over my masterpieces, and once
I cried when I grazed my
Finger on a sharp stone
As I tried to carve our names
Into the sand.
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...
Complete impulse buy today, I now have a (fairly expensive) quill.
Yep.
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Stethoscope
If you could
Hold a stethoscope
To my mind
You would conclude
That I am not
Quiet at all.
Dear Followers,
My next follower will be my 500th. This makes me very, very happy. It’s wonderful to know that almost 500 people have come onto my blog at some stage and decided it was worth following. You have all been amazing to me, I’ve been so lucky to get so many kind messages and meet so many fantastic and inspirational people, seriously, I would not be where I am now without you all...
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When dying people
Tell me their life stories,
It’s always beautiful.
Their chapters are named
“The happiest day
of my life”
“How I met my first love.”
And then, “My deepest regrets”
They always say,
“What a beautiful life
I’ve had. If only I had
Known it before.”
They will look at me
Straight in the eyes
And make me...
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Finally got the nerve to go through my nano novel… some of these mistakes are hilarious.
bodasdesangre:
I wish
my heart
were not made
of mirrors—
reflecting what
the mind conjures
when you’re around,
and obscuring reality
from smudges of
your fingertips.
This is beautiful… I couldn’t help but share this. If you’re not following this poet you should be!
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Out of Reach
The best poetry begins to form
When I have shut my eyes,
And trying to fall asleep, or
When I’m up to elbows
In the washing up bowl.
Better still, I’m
Out on a stroll, a mile
From a notebook or
A napkin. I could etch
It in my skin, but
I think I’ll pass.
No, I’ll just hold
It in my mind, I say,
Treasure at least one
Word, a working title…
But the harder...
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Very Happy!
Hello! I have some great news and I’m really happy so I thought I’d share it with you.
Well I had my first assessment today for art. I wasn’t too nervous, but I didn’t feel entirely confident. I kept tripping over my words and skipping over my bullet points… but after about 5 minutes I began to relax and talked about my work, and my tutors were incredibly...
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Plastic and Wax
I reach into my
Pockets and find
The remnants of
Lost childhood,
Old lego bricks
And crayons.
These were the
Building blocks
Upon which I sprung
Fuller fledged,
Paintbrush in hand
Poetry in mind.
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Pressing Flowers
If I could replace the sun
With a midnight, full moon
I would press flowers
And hold them up
To see them
Like silhouettes
Against another place,
And far from here.
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Tongue-Tied
Everything she wrote sounded wrong in her head. It was late, and the candle had burnt almost down to the holder, wax spilt onto the desk and corners of her pages. Frustration grew like a lump in her throat, knots formed in her forehead as she strained to pull the words from the tip of her tongue in a way that would make sense on the page. Tongue-tied. Knots. Creating something new and...
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Fox of Salter
I dreamt he was alive
And well. With
Still a hint of a
Hunter’s smile
In shiny eyes.
He laughed and
Joked, but
Never recognised me.
Not the little girl
Who held his hand
While he lay dying.
The moors pressed
Against the windows
And white linen
Hurt my eyes.
But the last thing
I remember is
The bugle call
They played
At his funeral,
“The fox has got away.”
Well it’s been another great, productive day.
I love when that happens.
After cleaning up my desk and adding a set of drawers, to help keep my mess within some tidy-looking walls, I’ve been 10 times more productive. I managed to make 8 butterflies today, and I also went to do some grocery shopping, organised the fridge and made a very creative dinner which turned out to be very...
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Dreamer
Walking through the mine-field
Of my dreams.
How long will it be
Before it happens?
Before I recognise the face
That will have me
Clattering to the surface
Gasping for air and
Screaming.
They say you can
Hear my dreams
From far away-
Yet no-one ever comes.
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Hand-Painted Butterfly Bookmarks
Hello everyone! I am now selling my hand-painted butterfly bookmarks. Each bookmark is an original watercolour painting of a butterfly in its own custom pocket; no two butterflies are the same. I began painting these to practise my watercolour skills, and have enjoyed it so much so continued to make more.
I am leaving it up to you to decide what to pay for the bookmarks, you can choose out of...
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