Inspiration

Sometimes the mind is barren
And words will not flow through.
A life is always changing.
Inspiration will come to you.


Just look around at beauty
And note down all you see.
The power of the universe
Each new flower, plant and tree.


The new-born baby crying
A toddlers faltering steps.
The smile from a senior citizen
Their life's wisdom in its depths.


Inspiration may come with anger
Sometimes sadness, often love.
All emotions flow and gather
Like clouds, so high above.


Dark clouds are our anguish
When words we cannot find
But bright clouds are renewing
The inspiration in your mind

Ancestry.

I've been trying to trace any living relatives of my paternal Grandfather who emigrated to Canada in 1923, so I joined Ancestry.co.uk on their worldwide site and found out quite a lot about him. He had a new family, so I knew I would probably have cousins still alive.  I checked to see if anyone else was researching him, for whatever reason, and I found several people who are and contacted them.

Unfortunately, I have had no replies so far, which is a bit disappointing. I would have thought that as they were doing research on my grandfather, they would be interested in my knowledge of him and what I have found out.  Anyway, replies would be polite, but early days I suppose.

Watch this space...

My New Border.

Garden by night, lovely and cool!

Wednesday Ramblings.

It's been a bad week.

Paul went for a routine appointment at diabetes clinic yesterday, but nurse called consultant, as one of his toes looked inflamed and suspected it was fractured. An Xray confirmed it and after a long, long wait in A&E he was admitted to AAU.

I had to go home to fetch his meds etc. He's on IV antibiotics. It's possible they may let him out tomorrow, though he'll need nurses round for IV and dressing changes at home.

The thing is we were due to go on holiday to Scotland this Sunday, but I've had to cancel.

Oh well, ce'st la vie, as they say!

Luckily we're insured, so will be refunded, but we were looking forward to a long overdue break

We may book something later in the year, toe willing!

Just say NO to Chocolate and other sweet things!

I had to see a nurse at my GP surgery yesterday, who informed me I have type 2 diabetes. To be honest I was expecting this news, not because I'd had any of the usual symptoms eg. being really thirsty or peeing more often.

My last blood test showed raised glucose levels even after fasting. Diabetes runs in both sides of my family so it's not surprising I may succumb.

She gave me a diet sheet which had items that I can eat freely, plus others that are not so good - and the last group which are not recommended and might well shorten my life if I should overindulge in such pleasurable  delights.

Needless to say most of my favourite grub is in the last group.

Still, there is a positive - I may lose some weight feasting on lettuce!

Sunday Ramblings.

The birds, especially the rooks in my garden, had a gourmet meal this lunchtime, when I accidentally dropped a tin of opened salmon in my sink,  which we didn't fancy consuming, so threw it in the back garden.

"What a plonker! " as Del as Boy would have said.

The rooks swooped to devour it within seconds. Rich pickings round here, so no doubt the word is getting round on
the local rook/jackdaw grapevine!

We always have loads of them nesting in the trees opposite our bungalow and though they make a racket with their cawing, I've become rather fond of them, as they are such ingenious birds and don't miss a trick.

By the summer they're gone, so it's relatively peaceful again, but then it's the turn of the equally noisy midwife toads that become active from June. They make a noise en masse every evening that sounds like an electronic  bleep. We have to keep bedroom windows closed till they desist, usually around midnight.

My neighbours have a couple of small ponds, so I expect that's where they are breeding. Thankfully, all is silent again by September.

Luckily I had a spare tin of salmon, that I drained more carefully this time..

Treacle

Monday Ramblings.

A good morning all round.

Met friends for coffee and catch up earlier and bought a few more new clothes for our holiday in the Scottish Highlands in April. Really looking forward to it as I've not been to Scotland.

My youngest daughter came over when I got home with Chihuahua, Treacle, commonly called "The Rat" by her partner and mine. She's a real cutie though, but inclined to nip with those exceedingly sharp little teeth!

We hope to get another dog after the holiday, probably a rescue, as our previous two were. There are so many poor dogs in rescue homes, so rather that, than buy one from an  unscrupulous breeder/puppy farm. Maybe a slightly smaller dog this time as I don't think I could control a large one with my arthritic fingers.

I've put a few more of my poems on the blog if anyone wishes to read them. I haven't written any new material for ages.

Maybe our holiday in Scotland will inspire me anew!

TTFN

REMOTE CONTROL. A dark poem

This poem is personal and shows how memories and people, even deceased ones, can still haunt us despite the passage of time,

Remote Control

After all these years
you still have control.

I'm powerless, listening
to your filthy, foul-mouthed rantings.

I dare not glance away, lest
you threaten to smash my head
to a pulp again,

your lips curl with venom
as they spit more expletives,

fists clenched,
eyes wide and staring, as you
punch the wall.

Shattered plaster drips blood
and I notice that hole in the door
needs filling.

I want to run, but you're faster

You goad me to fight back but
I'm numb - would say or do
the wrong thing.

It used to take very little.

A spilt teacup or forgotten ingredient
for lunch,

trivialities, but not to you.

How is it I still want you?
long for your weight on mine.

Still desire those looks
that first drew me to you.

then....

I am awake, steeped in sweat;
my heart exploding in my chest.

You still wield control,
even from your grave. 

(C)   Ann Wilson

Lady Rhyme R.I.P

Some people on a certain poetry site I'm on, rubbish this genre of poem, so I wrote this to annoy them!



 Lady Rhyme R.I.P

This day is sad for Lady Rhyme,
cut down so cruelly in her prime.
Free verse fiends now rule the pages,
where Rhyme had triumphed o'er the ages.

Yes, Rhyme is dead and buried here,
no longer thriving, bringing cheer.
All that's left is boring prose;
random metaphor, no one knows.

Remember how we liked to rhyme,
with metered flow, that was sublime.
So rest in peace beloved verse,
victim of non-rhymer's curse.

LITTLE BOY BLUE

This poem is about my baby brother who we never got to know, as he was stillborn.

Before your birth we revelled
at thoughts of being big sisters.

I knew you'd be a boy
and named you Patrick.

On lazy summers we'd parade you
in the park.

On toddler-tantrum days
you might trash our rooms.

We'd get mad but melt at those
eyes of baby-blue.

And your eyes were blue.
Blue as the hue of sea and sky.

But you were still.
Mother's blood had made you blue.

"He's perfect though" Father said.

We didn't see you

They thought it best.

There was no funeral

No grave nor plaque.

Nothing.

.