Tag: feelings

In a box

What could you possibly wish for ? He queried 

Squaring his shoulders waiting to go into defensive mode

You live in a house that gives no more than a basic shelter 

A domestic slave with my chosen for you friends

Narrowed eyes await confirmation of his rightness in everything 

Bore into her as she tries to tear her gaze away

I erm well I just want to have something I choose you see

She nods emphatically knowing it was the wrong thing to say. 

A tirade ensues as he tells her he is wiser, knows more

Accept the unacceptable he says

Run yourself a bath you’re obviously overwrought 

Pats her shoulder with a smile and a warning glare 

She turns away wondering why she’s so damned ungrateful 

Once again angered and disappointed,  been hateful

To even mention any dissatisfaction that’s stirs or causes a ripple 

In the mercurial waters 

She’s wishing she’d just learn to say nothing at all 

Swoop and dive like the fluttering bird he wishes for 

But it’s there deep down the stirring resentment begun

Can she ignore it? Not for long.
Ailsa

©AilsaCawleyPoetry 2015

Remembrance

Your memories are safe here enshrined at the door
Of which we nod with gratitude and thanks evermore
We may not know a loved one lost in the fight you fought
But hearts thank you for bravery given without a second thought
You gave your lives for future freedom you may never see
But that of the children at home you’d never bounce upon your knee
Our poppy it is worn with your sacrifice in mind
Of the lives you left at home and wives you left behind
You did it all with love and justice beating in your hearts
A better world you could see if we could only start
So now in the poppy fields where wildest blooms do grow
Should we not show that in the driest earth love can surely grow?
We must always remember your willingness to die
But the underlying reason for future generations to have less reason to cry.
Please respect these wishes for a free world and try again
Before we inflict upon our children more horror death or pain.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Gilded folly

She’d passed days there knowing there was something else

But what?

It was out there twinkling in the night skies 

Shifting on the breeze like tiniest diamond fragments

It sparkled briefly and when she turned to glimpse

It disappeared.

She grew disillusioned berating herself for living in faeryland

And held the golden bars of her gilded cage

When glancing down she noticed for the first time

A key 

Curiosity pushed forward telling her to just peek 

She could always go back pretending nothing had been there 

And forget her boredom of the pretty cell and go back to 

Being pleasing 

Deep down something primeval stirred ,escape maybe?

Pushing through the barrier and turning the key 

Taking a deep breath to force her courage

Took a step

And with not a backward glance but some fear in her depths

She pushed forward anxious to find out

To know what she could be other than a gilded bird

A golden song thrush 

 From her past of building wonderment and disquiet 

To her new existence which allows the real person free

Taking her through difficulties past everything to her own

Transcendence 

Ailsa

©AilsaCawleyPoetry 2015

With grateful thanks and blessings to Michelle Quesada Art for use of her painting .https://www.facebook.com/MichelleQuesadaArt/photos/a.548594798534688.1073741829.548514958542672/552981418096026/?type=3

Dawn procession

Gloom lifting slowly showing a pale yellow light in the distance 

Almost hesitant a lonely voice calls announcing daybreak  

In darkness you waited 

In silence

Almost afraid 

To make that first sound to wake the sleeping world from slumber

You wonder if you really heard that solitary call

So you wait

Holding your breath so long your chest wants to burst

It seems

Closer, clearer, more confident another peep, another 

Till there is a procession that heralds the dawn 

That thanks the world for the day that’s arrived 

Blessing it greatly

For its light, a new hope

An extra chance to be as new in the world

Now you understand the dawning 

It has taken place and inside you feel your soul sing in recognition 

Of earth, nature , the dawn procession 
Ailsa

©AilsaCawleyPoetry 2015

They danced the dance

They danced the dance, one two three, three three, stop…

All change, flounce away partner change

Keep looking back for the sparks fly like fireflies,

To entice the partners to dance again as they will like addicts who need the next fix,

The sparks dance prettily in the sky

They were set off long ago and burned slowly like fireworks 

Chemical reaction, boom once ,twice, three times 

Till they fizzle and die burning themselves out into stardust 

And become the flickers of something that attracted them 

In the first place 

They are sparkle dust, part of someone else’s dance 

Watching them dance the dance of all change.
Ailsa

©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015

Rhiannon

Taking a circuitous route to the room that sets us free
For an hour,  a while, you her and me
For we are one another Rhiannon the wild gypsy
And the quieter more held back side of she
In a tangle of warmth and sweaty Iimbs we join
I am Rhiannon she is me
All of the fears that I held in my heart leave on the wind 
As our hearts and limbs entangle, quicken
It matters not that we pull off the sheets
Or lie spent and happy without a doubt of the great beat
Hear it on the same breeze getting louder still 
Time for us to curb the wildness take a calmer pill
I do not wish to have the time back I discovered something new
I am always that Rhiannon, the gypsy wild heart remains true
So the one who thinks to hurt with bold words in my head
My heart and soul still play a song while yours is truly dead.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

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

©Ailsa Cawley Poetry 2015

Irregular

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.

All of it

What shall I tell you of me?  She asked
All of it.
The dark,  the sordid,  bits wrapped in silk, the nice things?. She nodded,  awaiting the refusal
All of it.
Trust me,  try me. He whispered gently.
But I might look different then she countered
How can the person I see now change by yesterday’s words?  Or actions from another life?
You might not like who you thought I was…
But as I know so little and I need to see more it can only give me understanding
Of what?  She questioned
Of you.  I want all of you.
I need no perfect specimen to stand in a showcase
I want a real person and she stands here
So please allow me in,  allow me all of it.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015

Crones end

The old crone watches, eyes scanning for chances to gain
More to add to the purse hanging from her wrist on a chain
Nodding and smirking of her grizzled grey head
Cackles escape now it’s almost the day of the dead
She has gold aplenty but will spend not one piece
On something so tasty from cauldron will feast
One tooth sticking forward like a tombstone
Your body shivers telling you she can crunch through bone
What will you be on her table of feasting?
Looking back gingerly to the plate from your eating
And she’s moved leaving behind a most pretty young girl
Large blue eyes and long golden curls
Can you help me to find my old grandma she asks?
I have neglected her for other more exciting tasks
She hangs her head, tears in her eyes
Do you have the heart to watch as she worries and cries?
Through the door you’d never seen in the wall
The world is silent no birds seem to now call
Turning to speak to her changes you now see
Sweet voice of the old crone, young girl saying this is me.
Mocking you as your confusion she clearly observes
My sweet you had to see what your heart did desire
To not lose your mind,  your humanity,  nerves.
I was never to hurt you just open your mind
Now go home young one leave prejudice behind.

Ailsa
©AilsaCawley Poetry 2015