Category: Blogs

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.

Circus paint

Many a time spent chasing behind, smile painted on
There under false pretences not sure
If I’m going to be found out anytime soon,
Driven away for not being who I allude to
Never the sparkly, witty one
Rather the one who watches from a quiet corner
As the circus unfolds…
Who shall I be tonight?
Dancing rock star whirling about the room
Or a wallflower clinging to the bar there,  like a life raft?
Circus paint on,  costume on? Check
Hair,  heels, personality all in order
Still unsure if I’m in the wrong fairytale,
And how soon can I escape it all….
It’s all started to bore now you see
Daily adventures have become monotonous
Looking at faces flushed red, dull eyes
Comprehending nothing other than a drink
Which is blotting up the spilled ink of their daily story
That they have no way to escape from.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

The fearsome warrior

I don’t care what you think about me, I don’t think about you at all – Coco Chanel

Just a woman she’d heard it said, no good for much except a bed!
She worked harder than any man she knew
Proving herself daily as her confidence grew.
Always knowing she was an almost son, respect forever hard won.
As she grew old and retained her inner fire
They looked and saw just a woman filled with ire.
Her favourite saying “you’re as good as everyone else, and in some cases better, but keep that to yourself!”
For when she was a girl you hid your light so deep
You’d forget it were there, a secret to keep.
She heard the comments, formidable, tough, hard, unforgiving
Except that she knew at the end she was winning
As woman, mother, sister, friend
You took your hurts she still found a way to mend.
Feeding you plenty, asking what no one else could
Because it was not nice, or not something you should
So every time I hear a mention in comparison I swell
My pride in her always will dwell.
A warrior she was and will remain on a green hill
A fearsome woman ahead of time then and still.

What is it my pretty?

What is it my pretty,  asked the crone swathed in lace
Her smell of dust, decay and old roses around the girls face
The old curled nails stroking her throat
As she robs the girl of speech, gloating
One sharp scratch you see it won’t hurt for long
And oh you will give such a pretty song
The smell is growing stronger,  hypnotic and plodding
Slowly the girl offers her neck like a sacrifice
Speaking in tones soothing, trying to hide the ice
Not long my pretty and it will be over one sharp……
At the sound of the tinkling she awakes with a start
Fury boiling over from the old woman who now changed
From what appeared to be merciful to animal and deranged
The girl cannot look at the face she would die for
Looking down to the ground and backs towards the door
That she doesn’t remember having been here. .
And the tinkling she sees now was rising from her toes
Not a scream for the trance she’d been in stopped
Any human reaction even lamentation of her own woes
What saved her you ask?
Pearls.
Worn around her throat,  so intent on her dark task
The crone could not see and undid her own work
As her fingers caught and she did jerk
Causing a whisper in reality as they called as they fell
Wake up,  wake up,  and run, for she is a guardian of hell
Come back it’s not your time to go from life
Run, run by the four winds that do blow
Faster, faster go now go.
As she opens the door the girl bends to thank
The necklace which saved her in her trance
Picks one bead before she takes flight
Puts hand to throat she notes the blood
But she survived it, that thing of the night
Like it never happened,  well who would believe?
She tidies herself,  pink mark at her throat
And wonders if tonight that crone will return to gloat.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Dancing to the tune

Watching them as they give you tasks to join their world
The one you’re desperate to be part of
You move slowly, anguish crushing your features
So faster turning, swooping, diving, anything
Anything that gets them to see the steam rise from your breath
Making them aware ‘look I’m alive, I breathe ‘you smile
They laugh at your confusion
Braying, pointing to the marionette who dances for them
Despite everything still wanting, needing to be on the inside
Ever willing to be laughed at
And the bells jingle loudly, the fools bells
But you wear them proudly like a badge of honour
To say you made it and got noticed
Even if they make you dance and sing, at heel like the puppy
Whose eyes will adore you while you kick him
They can smell the desperation pouring from you
See it shining manically in your too bright eyes
They have a clown, jester, puppet
Don’t try to break into their enclosed heartland
For the hearts are withered and lands are barren.
Stop dancing, close your ears to the tune.
Leave the dance mid-turn, with some pride intact

Haunted by

I walk to the bus and you are there, not by me
Never by my side, following incase I speak to a person unchecked
Someone not through your process.
Which is that you ask? Surely speech is free?
You might think, but
I’ve to watch my step, my expression, my interest
Smile and say hi for a moment your voice says
But as I half turn looking over my shoulder slyly
For all the world a spy in my own prison world
I see you shuffle-dive into a doorway
Once I used to ask you why you followed me, always
You laughed, huffed, got angry
Except it wasn’t me alone who saw you, was it?
Jokes masking the serious questions of why, just why
Did you need to know my every second and try to breathe for me
If I tried to do it alone I was closing you out
So you followed sometimes nearly stumbling into me
Or you called telling me I had been away long enough
And if I loved you, really loved you
I would only want you and it would be enough
Till the day you issued a threat up close
When up she stepped, the hidden one, usually being timid
Always wanting to see you happy, or just calm
You threatened me the last time then didn’t you?
When I looked you in the eye and told you to sleep awake
Keep your eyes open forever
You hurt me before, but never again
I have waited, and like the snake who strikes
You will find you cannot time my attack, nor will I stop!!
Would I have ever been able to do it?
I simply don’t know, but it stopped the onslaughts
Every day.
But the strength began to build a bridge
Not between us, but to a new song where you don’t feature.
And I am not haunted by
Day, night,you.