Month: October 2015

The three in one

Confusion reigns in the eyes of the triune one
She was asked to play today’s part with aplomb and she did
So well received her role of Madonna and innocent too
Difficult after last night being questioned
And laughingly branded a whore
But the eyes provoked and the lips spoke for them
A gently menacing tap to the cheek in disgust
Barely hidden behind the false smile given
As her confusion mounts and her head pounds
He begs direction and to be told what exactly to do
From the mother he has decided she should be
She sets down the rules and adheres to them strongly
To find him embittered at her controlling manipulation
Finally in defeat the impossible woman,  
The triune that cannot join and mingle within such an unholy alliance
Shreds into the slivers of a real person again
And in fear she heads for the hills
Leaving him to search for the figments of the three.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Standing by

They walk by unnoticed by some at their side
Quiet support always there unwavering
And sometimes because their profile is kept so low
Almost secret to the point of being missed
Until it isn’t there because they feel used,  rejected
It can be done by omission not meaning to harm
And slowly,  silently you take a step back and another
Until you fall so far behind that you lose sight of….
The person who was always by your side,  and at your back
Sometimes you feel like taking a step back to find out
Exactly who you are everyone wanting a piece
Some that don’t even exist in you
But are wishing thoughts of who you would be
And the pressures build till you disappear
In a sea of other people’s wants
Press down,  down,  and then you force your way
To the surface and break through taking a gasping breath
Grasping for a lifeline and finding someone
The one who steadfastly stood by,  silently
Waiting at your side till YOU returned.
I have.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

The rose teacup….

You’ve snuck around the corner to the place nobody  ever goes 

Such an unusual garden lies ahead, filled with things you just don’t see

No really, the carousel in the corner spun out of sight landing at your toes 

And something the size of a dinner plate looks like a bumble bee 
A little note lies on the table and you just have to take a peek 

‘Welcome, make yourself at home ‘ simply written there in ink of rainbow hues

Feeling quite proud (but scared,) of the forbidden fruit you came to seek

You sit right down and decide to look for clues 
Who lives here, you think as a pot lands wobbling  on the table 

Another note around it’s rounded belly reads ‘look right ‘

Not sure what you’re meant to be seeing, but curiosity will always enable 

You swing to see the strangest roses in this garden now twilight.
It cannot really  be your head says ,as you pluck it from by your side 

I mean rose teacups however pretty do not grow on trees 

And you observe that nothing is real and your bed is where you truly bide 

Obediently, or shocked, you devour the warming brew and sugary treats 
Almost dark now a light so strange it seems there’ll be a storm 

Garden not so pleasant now it’s cast in eerie unearthly glow 

Deciding to leave, go home where there’s a hearth, fire and life is warm 

The garden starts to swirl around , done is the pretty crowded show
Get to the gate, one last glance over your shoulder you give 

To see the fancy place, has all turned to ruins and dirt and rubble 

You head back fast as you can go to the little place you live

Disbelieving what you saw and read, mind inside a protective bubble 
You slept not unlike the dead that night and woke up fresh and new 

Silly dreams I have you thought as the curtains they did billow

Thought no more about it during that day, this much is surely true 

Till climbing into bed that night, a rose teacup lay on the pillow 

©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015

Storyteller

The crowd looks on as he weaves his tale, taller and stronger 

You know it isn’t true……  But still you’re drawn in a fish on a hook

Need to see how the “truth, I swear it” fingers crossed behind his back,  

Ends.

Where, how, what you ask helplessly wriggling in your seat 

As the plot unwinds on a pathway so twisted 

His eyes twinkle amused by this audience who swear they don’t believe 

In magic.

Or in massive armies of one inch men who grow to giants at dusk 

So strong they could carry you away with barely a movement seen 

They don’t exist you say, but look for them secretly 

Anyway.

Of the magical lands visited and what he saw there, all alone 

You can’t take anyone there who doesn’t believe and nobody does 

So how can I show anyone monsters, demons, and sssssh the little men

Believe 

Loving to hear other tales that said his world of difference was true 

From as far back as I can recall he made me realise one thing 

That if just if I look further and delve deeper into everything 

I 

Yes, I believe anyway in magic.
©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015

Clever stupid words 

Don’t use them you say, grumble under your breath 

I look at you unsure what not to use even 

THOSE words, those damned stupid words, clever stupid words

The ones you pick up from who knows where 

They laugh behind your back don’t you care?

Not really 

Apparently I should because it makes you a laughing stock 

Are you kidding me? (Sarcasm dripping like spilled honey)

You make them up, but they’re not normal words 

Oh I get it, my fault you don’t know what I meant 

Too proud to ask? Only laugh like a hyena 

Yes really 

Embarrassed now because I’m not too proud to ask, learn 

I like to know, understand, even just a little 

Even down to clever, stupid words. 
©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015

Elevated beyond 

Their eyes met, as eyes tend to across a crowded bar 

She knew that this was right, well okay maybe on a Saturday 
It advanced and the glances became scrutiny 

Sometimes uncomfortable peering into her soul without permission scrutiny 

But then he’d smile taking her measure slowly with his eyes 

And she’d brush aside the doubts, put them in a trunk 

It grew to such a size you could have fit a body in that wooden casket 

Looking for all the world how she’d always imagined a pirates treasure trove to be 

There were glimmers at the corners where it was fastened with chains 

Yet still he peered at her with hooded eyes giving away nothing 

She awoke cold and in the dark of night , a welcome feeling 

Wondering why the moon looked so deliciously close 

Finding as she went to explore that her feet had become stuck fast.

Looking down she saw they were entrenched in stone 

And she stood atop a monument, a pedestal 

She shouted to him as he chiseled the stone below 

Help me down, I seem stuck on this platform, it’s pretty and all but…

I built it for you, of you after filing off the rough parts came an angry retort 

It was then she remembered the chest with the best of her in it 

She couldn’t reach so she willed those parts to come back 

Below he still frantically chiseled and polished 

Eventually the chest was emptied but the contents had altered 

Shoving them roughly inside with the chest shrinking to nothingness 

The chain turned to a rope and she reached the ground 

I elevated you beyond…..he said 

Yes but I wanted to stay here and not be an immortal impossible goddess 

She replied over her shoulder as she departed.

Shining like starlight

After many a day quietly living in the box,
The beige and boring one that held, constrained her
It became too much, far too bright
She’d spent many a day pulling down the shades
Doing what she did best in quiet solitude
It was all so mixed that darkness and light
The real, imagined, and didn’t always come tied with a bow
So she hid it away because who’d be interested right?
And the box had a window small but hidden
In trepidation she opened it just a crack,
Convinced herself she’d close it soon
As her light was allowed to trickle through and out
A voice from a dark forest in the corner whispered
Be brave,  the colours, swirling,  and you most of all you
Are destined for greater things
She ignored it till it began to loudly yell
Look around you at the sky in the room now
Astounded she saw it begin to grow daily
Emanating from her very being,  breathing it in and out
She was it
So bright she had to open the window wider
For the light in the box was too bright and she feared the sparks
Setting fire to the beige box cell she was in
Flooding forth she found herself no longer rooted to the box
And she shone,  she shines still
The light pouring forth from her eyes
The dark and light twinkling all around her being
In a never ending sparkle that strikes awe
Into the unsuspecting soul as she shares it
With the world.

For J.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Eggshell heart

I see them trample on your eggshell heart,
Without a care of whether it will break.
My instinct to dash forth and protect ricochets in my mind,
But I know I cannot and to stand still until you call
Or waver and glance needing reassurance that the shell has not broken,
At least not beyond repair this time.
It grows stronger, tougher every onslaught
But it shouldn’t have to,  it shouldn’t.
I swallow my anger for that helps no-one
Least of all you who needs my heart to heal the cracks
You try to cover in your eggshell heart.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Fear the feeling of difference

You were offered something bright and shiny, it wasn’t Gold

But never were you told it was, just that it meant a new horizon

Where the pot of Gold and more, lay yours for the taking.

Your head told you lies, that you couldn’t do it alone, alone, alone,

That word tolled like a bell in your head, clanging out the possibility of future

Dully moving away, thankfully saying no to the changes

The words the bell kept saying, “fear the feeling of difference, fear it well,

you cannot be different, “

and you nodded, swallowing the words whole, drinking the pain

Bitter you’re told, because it has to be when you try and think of change.

Now drink your medicine, ease those endless thoughts if you just drink,

close, close, close your mind to future. Cut off your chances.

If you’re standing still, statue like, you don’t need to fear the feeling of difference.