Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

Earth singing days 

The world has played a beautiful tune of flutes and string quartet 

It gives colourful notes we don’t always see 

The sunrise above clouds turn them into a peach meringue 

To a beautiful day of palm trees swaying in sunshine 

And now the light has left the sea crashing ashore 

Cicadas chirp in the trees singing where violins left off 

Natures music carries on if only 

If only we let it 

If only WE help it now 

The thoughts of doing stop and action starts 

Building bridges in bricks and man alike 

Showing slowly that we can live together in harmony not anger 

We don’t need to any of us 

Don’t agree? Live and let live. 

Help don’t harm 

Or it will be too late and she will have no more 

The earth will have no more singing days 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

Message to your self 

You’re looking at the mirror now watching time go by 

Tell yourself I’d be better if this or maybe that 

If only that were this wistfully sigh 

Do the people who you watch unobserved have faults? 

Of course not you spit indignant 

What would they have to feel bad about like me? 

No wonder their confidence is so high being person x 

They embody everything everything ever 

So instead you emulate your imaginary perfect 

Try to correct some part that is fine …..no really  

Leave it as it is a message to the young 

You will look back later and wonder when you are broken 

Have allowed the world to break your component parts 

And maybe reshape you 

Only then will you get the message 

Be true to yourself always, be who you are 

Change nothing to conform to ideas of others 

But only change to better you from inside 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

What’s it to do with me?

Don’t look at me she said there’s nothing to be done 

I am only a single person and honey , eat none 

Even if I cared about it who’d listen to me? 

I’m not a politician or someone who hugs the trees 

Her eyebrows raise and she looks devoid of caring 

There’s more for me to think about than insects and daring 

Probe a little deeper and you find her insecure 

Confused at others worlds that to her appear poor 

So pointing out that little bee as the key to her own life 

Her mind makes little connection 

Anger stems forcing her to demand (with jabbing finger) 

Show me it’s work that’s worth the linger 

One by one her plate is carved till precious little remains 

The flowers on the table gone 

Her shock now plain 

And ringing in her ears are the words 

This is what these creatures do and this the thanks they get! 

Without their help you don’t eat if they come to harm 

Their work continues only if we’re careful in our world 

The food chain isn’t a pretty name for golden threads 

You snap this one and the earth can end up dead.
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

Guardian 

The tall man watching her move is unaware 

That she sees him as clear as day 

In the deep of night 

Sometimes almost close enough to touch but he has no 

Face of welcome to her eyes 

He doesn’t, cannot show that so 

Does he smile or frown upon her 

Drawing closer drives her further away  

Afraid he may hurt someone who she loves 

He acts as a guardian with no features 

The drawing closer could be anything you say 

As he tries to speak but is misunderstood 

That he patrols her world wanting only to help 

A warning from beyond the wall he cannot pass 

Unable to show and say his name 

He is merely the guardian, the dove for her peace 

Notice is not necessary for his work

And other forms can be taken for this beings duty 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

Photo from ©Planting Images 2014

Heron hideaway 

Of a sudden a shriek breaks through the mist 

Then nothing 

The gloomy skies descend and the barest sound before 

The heron breaks the foggy headlands 

Fly to your regal hideaway 

Swoop, dive before you are seen and flee 

This predatory world king of the sky 

From view you disappear to stop, confuse 

Appear only as a minor interruption 

From view you are gone provoke confusion over if you’re even there 

Imagined as a spectre 

Wear your anonymity while you wait to see 

Have you been seen or remain unnoticed 

The muddle of mist your friend and hiding place 

The heron hideaway 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

Photo ©Planting Images 2013

Volcanic home 

The road is beckoning gently almost unnoticed pulling her 

To the land ahead and she is drawn 

Like on a silken thread unseen but feels the gentle tug 

Her nod to say the road will be followed 

Travelled to its end be that what it will 

The core calls centre of it to her wildness 

Welcoming, and yet commanding respect 

As though it awaits her bowed head in reverence 

And it has time for it has been waiting since forever 

She has finite time to think 

As the cord draws her into it deliberately 

It awaits awe and reverence so commands her 

Bow your head and show me mortal that you see only 

My majestic melting pot 

Remember I can see more of past and future than you can 

Imagine, imagine imagine 

Show your own thoughts dance to your music 

Light the autumn fire in your soul 

As I display for you my never ending world 

If you let me 
Ailsa

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

Photo ©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

What?

What is it you tried to lay on me 

I can’t quite see it clear, true edges blurred 

Pushing or patting squeezing corners into a round 

Sweet circle of blandness 

From edgy and different with sharp contrast to the rest 

Push those corners they don’t fit 

They are the things that make me different from you 

So they were sucked inside 

From jutting angles of……   
To something resembling an orange round at last 

But the corners are inside and I look crushed 

Wizened and bleached after being in the sun 

I hid in the dark buried it all 

Juices and blood flowing again in this crumpled skin 

And the segments pop with excited surprise 

At last they sing 

We can be as we should have been 

Not pushed down stuffed away to be acceptable

Like a hive of bees they buzz alive again 

Taking their own skin over and the orange peel shall thin 

To let the glorious flesh forth 

In all it’s difficult difference 

It’s corners back glistening  with stardust  

And an audible sigh ahhhhh 

As the square no longer forces itself to fit 

I have been freed 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawley2016
Please note I can find no reference for the picture if you know who it belongs to please let me know so I can credit them

Jealousy 

So often the colour ascribed is peagreen  

Though I see a puce showing through 

No reason for it 

You say you don’t like it but change nothing 

Fear of what? 

Failing or just incase you succeed and are accused of changing 

Stay afraid to open your eyes 

Your mind and stagnate like those before 

Imagine you are different and see 

The mistakes they made and you who are afraid 

Repeat as it may mark you different 

Tell yourself you’re owed everything 

You must surely get it then right? 

And still you stand there angry at the world 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

The darkest corners 

Watching as the predator he is 

Hunting without sound or movement stillness his companion 

Inside his head the voices clamour seeking 

Like children to be heard above all others 

Yet the quiet one who shrinks catching his sight 

Or does tonight call for a sporting chase 

Hunt the stronger win through struggle? 

They will all fall where he places them 

Always he is justified saving them from obscurity 

He is angered that his work brings their faces 

Closer 

The ones who are unknown he gave a face, a name 

Never grateful for his help with immortality 

One day he will stop when voices say enough 

Or when glassy eyes stop floating in dreams 

When the compulsion to help them is gone 

Although there is a long way to go for perfection 

And only he is putting himself last 

If they could see they were chosen, special 

Not victims but queens of his passion 

The blood pooling from the latest queen harvested 

He sighs at his sacrifice always his 

Work to be done once more 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016

Filter the view 

You look at me in black and white like a newspaper page 

Flat and with no shades 

Every little detail beginning to blend or disappear 

To a basic short itinerary 

Peel back the shades, leave the scent trails 

Left by someone faceless before you 

What can you really see? 

My verdant hills of lushest green high and forbidding 

Yet changed little over time 

My purple carpet with so many hues 

A flooring of purest amethyst  

My yellows brilliant and dazzling to the eye 

Citrine to pop among other gems 

Look a little closer and more colours you’ll see 

Like the red of the bloodstone 

Flowers and berries are all a part of me 

Can you see me properly? 

Have you picked out the jewels here for each to enjoy 

Please take care, let them endure. 

Give your admiration, awe and respect 

But as you found it leave it 

And tell others to be sure. 

Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016