The Attic 

There’s something here that you keep telling me to find 

Not with words but imagery 

Apparently I’ll know it when I see it 

The walls so old and dusty that I  barely see paper on the walls 

Smell of old books rising from boxes long neglected 

All here dumped, forgotten, dusty and old  

Scrub at the walls to reveal a rich ruby pattern on once cream 

Was this a haven for someone? 

It feels like it could become one if the boxes are moved 

Just stacked elsewhere here not taken away 

I see the space is huge,  beams above my head 

A threadbare carpet covering the floor and a shaft of light 

From where? Following the line find a tiny window painted in dark colour 

The rejected here was also protected I muse 

Beauty hidden in old boxes, a dirty wooden trunk 

Carved symbols and initials are waiting to be unveiled 

Will I ever leave this room? 

I have needed to return to a place I can’t recall seeing 

But it’s like a hazy memory 

I can only leave when it’s all tidily boxed away 

Rearranged like the protective armour that stops 

The past from invading the future 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2017

Light up the shadows 

Those lights he said are the souls of the dead 

Flying the skies like birds in formation 

Migrating from this world to that without anything but 

A whispered wing beat to guide them 

Through mists and time, dawn to dusk they go through the veil 

Of twisted time and bravery stopped them repeating 

So they shine their coloured expanse above in 

Fantastical colours speaking silently of magical powers 

We cower hiding our eyes so the gods are not angered 

Except for the one who cannot tear their eyes away 

I watch through fingers and pretend to have fear 

Though I feel only majestic colours dancing in front of me 

Around me and I wish I could tell what I saw 

But the lights are on show if you open to see 

Look through fingers if you dare maybe tell nobody 

You will marvel silently at what they show you 

The elders of before 

As they light up the shadows 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2017

Built on a fable 

The things you were sure were absolute truth 

Lie in pieces on your minds cutting room floor 

Stories force fed from childhood through youth 

Leave you wondering what else you don’t know 

As your beliefs have just fled through the door 

There are dark things that whisper in the edge of your mind 

Some may be real most are not 

You regret thoughts you had about someone you knew 

What was the need for such a secretive plot?

The answers to queries you’ll never receive 

So let them go back before you 

Make them  unimportant and give them no spot  

Or your mind they’ll never leave 

Treat them as memories someone wished to be true 

But not as spectres to keep haunting you 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2017

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

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

Katrina 

She cannot believe the words she is hearing 

The assumptions made about who, and what she is.

Where are they looking? 

Then she feels for a moment that her ruse went too well 

Her mask too inscrutable 

Shaking her head, Katrina sighs 

So long trying to be accepted, acceptable 

Doing what they said 

Tell the truth and be yourself 

And she watched them back away into corners 

Their faces pinched, closed even wary 

This different one not the same as them 

She peeled away the parts that didn’t match the pattern 

They all followed the same one 

Till she could bear no more and had to let the pieces return 

To where they belong 

And she stands proud like beast set free from a yoke 

This is me she says without fear 

Well maybe a little but not enough to stop her now 

Not any more 

She hears words of what they assumed she liked 

Imagined how she thought or felt 

She laughs loudly the melody new and unfettered 

Finally she is free from expectations 

Katrina will be unafraid from now only herself. 

Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2016