Desperation Express 

Roll up, roll up for the ride you can’t ignore

The suck it up and see if it’s all the same once more

As much as you like to dine on here till you’re bloated and gorged outside

From table to table you drift, graze and  unceasingly glide

While inside you’re dried up with twisted emotions being without a core

A ship with no anchor without so much as a shore

Nor a place to take refuge and rest

You are but a husk a dried up old shell of a deserted wasps nest

Where flesh and bone once dwelled, pounding with life 

With feelings, emotions clicking and switching complain of your strife

Now you live only to settle old scores and say how well you cope

With a dash of excitement here or there convincing you there is hope 

That you still can ride like a young child the desperation express 

Because you think getting off this train will bar your success. 


©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015

Mist mass

The mist swirls around the land almost threatening in it’s nothingness

Unsure if I can really see what seems to be there or a creature plays

In some forgotten realm ahead of me in the pea green haze 

A rational thought, always the sensible one this ration,

Tells me to get with it and what else could it be but someone coming towards me?

Of course the part, that is more of me than not sings another song,

It’s coming, one of those night creeper things, coming for you

And getting closer, closer, heart beating fit to burst at the shape coming right for me

That I still cannot make out what this lumbering mass is

Enter the last cloud of gloom , the mist mass

Heading for it, as it does for me

Hold my breath, counting, counting, closer, closer….

My head begins to whirl looking for it’s hiding place of which there’s none

But it has vanished into the misty vapour leaving me cold to my bones

With the feel of an icy hand on the back of my neck…….

Secret of the Castle walls

Up, up we climb to the heights where the castle remains
Lay broken and ruined but filled with mystery
Almost swirling on the wind the magic trapped
To remain here within a hand’s grasp it seems
Always to be felt but never to be touched
Not now
Not in this time
We need a time of quiet listening,  reflection
And one day the hubbub will still to nothing
Where secrets can be given to the trusty souls
Of the deepest times of lanterned magic
Flickering candle light, 
No sorcery in corners fearful or mistrusting
The wise woman is respected for her knowledge
Her healing and well wishes
And as the magic shows the castle once more
Not ruined but in full majestic glory
You will be in awe of the beauty you missed
Hidden because you studied only your boots
Not the possible pathways ahead.

©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015


Stumbling over and around his words like a child’s building blocks

Trying to smile as he told her the fateful words ‘you are irregular ‘ not normal he kept back

Though his expression said it with one solitary glance.

Come through to the parlour he beckoned and try out your costume for the freak show

Attempting now to reassure her with phrases of ‘you should manage’ or ‘it’ll likely be fine

Without meeting her gaze.

She shrank in on herself, sure everyone could see at a glance her oddity, not difference, but flawed

Like the reject from the assembly line that got tossed in the seconds box, unfit for perfection

Unless someone was willing to ignore irregularity *shudder* 

He carried on his conversation with himself , no chance to interject for her 

And her head carried her away to where the clowns danced, falling over

To a place she wasn’t irregular , a second, or a freak.

She had entered the land of the other oddities and she thought she quite liked it.