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Guidance

25 Friday Nov 2016

Posted by mariewilliams53 in Inspirational words, poem, Poetry, prose poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 36 Comments

Tags

communication, compassion, emotion, fears, flowers, harmony, healing, heart, journey, metaphor, nature, poetry, prose poetry, self-knowledge, therapy

lighthouse

Image: Google Images

Guidance

When I’m floundering fixedly on facing fears; fully aware of my shortcomings, I find you pointing proudly in the direction that I should go. Don’t you know that if I go, I go with the knowledge that I am not enough out there on my own? My needs are not necessarily manifold, but many are they and they won’t go away without first feeding that part of me which hungers for your staunch support; stepping in line with me.

So when you point, please don’t point with those elegant finely forbidding fingers. Instead, firmly hold my hand, grasp it lovingly and lead me along the path where the bluebells grow, dancing in freshly fallen snow, in the chill wind of April’s noon-day sun.

~mew

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Cometh the Shower, Cometh the Man

30 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by mariewilliams53 in Domestic Violence, Homelessness, poem, Poetry, prose poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 47 Comments

Tags

abuse, bag lady, Bill, fate, homeless person, journey, loss of identity, metaphor, Parliament, pillow, power, shower, tiger, tramp

Cometh the Shower, Cometh the Man – the plight of the homeless

Four walls, three windows, two doorsteps front and back, one roof. Zero! Countdown to loss and a loss so profound it has no bounds. Too difficult to contemplate the rate at which this loss creates the fate of anyone of us. Because we are not immune, to any of the fates that wait unseen ready to pounce without fore-warning. Crouching like a tiger, amongst the foliage of life, breathing soft, aloft the cares, concerns and worries of it’s prey, it leaps and you become the very thing you toiled and sweated to avoid: the homeless person, the bag lady, the tramp.

When you lose your home, to a great extent, you lose yourself. Your identity forged on the furnace of the place from which you come. You lose yourself. You lose your rights. You lose your body, becoming visibly invisible for others see you but choose not to acknowledge you, because you don’t have an address. An address, sought after, a number placed upon a door, a number which identifies you and shouts: this is where you can find me on any given day at any given hour, for this is where I live.

Paula* talking on the radio, loud and clear for all to hear. No longer a statistic but a person with a place to call her own. When she opened her front door, I can’t tell you how her spirit soared. Soared to heights it’s hard to describe. She speaks of stepping in the shower in which she spent over an hour, no water saving there! An hour in the shower, is a luxury for a woman who lost the power to shower for longer than she cares to say. Sleeping on a pillow became the stuff of dreams. She slept for as long as she wanted, her head resting on a pillow. The joy, the pleasure to sleep at leisure when one has slept on a cold pavement with fresh air for a pillow and fresh air for a blanket cannot be denied.

To clear the streets and house the homeless they talked of Bills and Parliament. Talk of cross-party support was vital: to get the Bill through Parliament. This becomes a burning issue. Reasons for homelessness are mooted. Domestic violence cited and indicted. Domestic violence stands accused, for who would choose to lose their home? Who would choose to lose their identity? Who would prefer to walk the streets, alone, afraid, if Domestic violence at first charming, so disarming, becoming outraged, impossible to assuage had not moved in and changed the locks on their front door?

~ MEW

*Dedicated to “Paula” who spoke of her plight of homelessness and the part domestic violence played on BBC Radio 4, in London. Enjoy your shower, Paula!

 

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The Gift

26 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by mariewilliams53 in autobiograpy, Inspirational words, poem, prose poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

awareness, blogging, clouds, communication, compassion, feelings, healing, metaphor, nature, poem, poetry, self-knowledge, therapy, tranquility, trees

Why this feeling of sadness now?  I think I’ll sit with it a while, after all it cannot hurt to understand the feeling if it manifests itself to me.  If I ignore it and send it away will it be hurt and think that it cannot come again to remind me of something I have not yet forgotten?  Breathe deeply, stare at the yellow walls and the sunlight reflecting through the window at the foot of the stairs.  It doesn’t feel any better, but then why should it?  You’ve only been thinking about the feeling for a few seconds.  Is that all the time that you can spare for this feeling when it so urgently wants to be felt?  Don’t you owe it to yourself to sit and engage with it, have a conversation with it, listen to what it has to say?

A small knot in the pit of your stomach.  A small pressure to the right side of your head, just under your ear.  Tingling in the feet and curiosity around the base of your neck and furrowed forehead.  Lips pursed as if to kiss and greet the feeling that has chosen this moment to visit, when you really weren’t expecting visitors today.  Invite the feeling to stay and find out what it has to say.  Don’t be cold and formal, treat it like a long lost friend.  Connect with it and let it know that it is important, that it is welcome and that although you have other things to do, this feeling has priority right now.  It relaxes and reclines and something shifts within you.

You turn your head and gaze from the foot of the stairs to the open window where the breeze softly caresses your skin, notice too that the trees are waving at you, as the cool air touches their leaves.  That the clouds in the sky floating on by suggest softness, cushioning your  thoughts.  Having gazed a while, seconds, minutes – who knows, you glance away, noticing the feeling has crept away.  You smile and acknowledge the gift your visitor brought today.

~mew

 

 

 

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Secrets

10 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by mariewilliams53 in Inspirational words, poem, Poetry, prose poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

awareness, child abuse, communication, healing, hurt, metaphor, pain, peace, poem, poetry, self-knowledge, therapy

Are secrets really secrets?  How long can a secret remain a secret?  Doesn’t everything come to light at some point?

 

Secrets

Long before I knew my mind, you took away my right to know my mind, and in so doing took the very essence of me, that part of me which struggles now to know who I am; the real me.  You came and with your honeyed words drew me into a maelstrom of deceit.  I felt confused, but could not fight you because you were bigger than me in every sense of the word.  Physically, you were bigger.  Mentally you were bigger.  Emotionally you were bigger.  You were simply too big for me and I was too small.  What did you see that day you came to me, smiling, with evil in your heart, evil on your mind, evil guiding your hands?

You believed your secret was safe with me.  But you could not be more wrong.  Oh how you gloried in your misdeeds and how you luxuriated in the wrongs of someone with a secret.  You laughed mockingly at the small soul who kept your secret safe within her heart, never fearing that she could one day part with the sorrow that secret held for her.  That secret which tore her dreams to shreds, prevented the seeds of miracles to unfold.  The secret which stopped her from being bold and taking hold of all that was rightfully hers.

Ah but time has passed and with that passing has come the desire to cast aside the mire in which she passed her time, for she could not call it living.  It was a poor substitute.  The secret explodes and each dirty shard is tossed into the air, it is there for all to see.  You seek to deny it, you question the reliability and demand evidence to support the claim. Surely you are not the one to blame?

Your secret was not safe with me.

~MEW 

 

 

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Stronger

22 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by mariewilliams53 in autobiograpy, Inspirational words, Journal Entry, Philosophy, Poetry, stories

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

communication, harmony, healing, hurt, inspiration, journey, love, metaphor, Oprah Winfrey, peace, power, prose poetry, self-knowledge, therapy, tranquility

Yesterday I started to read Oprah Winfrey’s “What I Know for Sure”, and I found it “Bible-like”. It’s a good book to keep close by to refer to on life’s journey. It is full of truth, authenticity, guidance, self-love, love for others and wisdom.

The cover of the book is beige and green and it has an oak tree on it. The oak tree is a symbol for me of faithfulness and strength. Its sturdy trunk is rooted and unshakeable, and a place where I can rest my body if and when I need to. It wont collapse with my weight. It will stand firm and hold me up. Its girth will give me a sense of stability – something like when you are a small child and you run to your mother and put your arms around her. Your arms never quite reach to clasp, but that solidity and warmth, comfort and reassure you.

I am feeling fine today. I meditated for a while. I am getting stronger each day. I feel loved and wanted and special. Not knowing what the future will bring for me does not scare me. I am grateful for my breath, my body and my ability to write. These gifts are precious. They are worth more than gold, but I will not lock them away in a vault of fear, for fear that they will be stolen from me. I will display them and trust that they will stay. I will take these gifts, treasure them and hold fast to them.

~ MEW

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Day Five: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor

20 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by mariewilliams53 in poem, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing 201

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

compassion, elegy, ethereal, fog, heart, metaphor, mist, poem, poetry, touch, Writing 201, writing 201 poetry

It’s day 5 of Writing 201:Poetry and the assignment is to use the following in a poem:

Today’s prompt: fog
Fog. Today’s word prompt can be taken in so many different directions: condensation on your car’s window. An eerie landscape (or streetscape) at dawn. Your glasses as you enter a warm room from the cold outside. The mental state of confusion, forgetfulness, or dementia. How will you introduce fog into your poem today?

Today’s form: elegy
Today’s form, the elegy, can trace its history all the way to ancient Greece. It started out as a poem that could be about almost any topic, as long as it was written in elegiac couplets (pairs of verse, with the first one slightly longer than the second). Over the centuries, though, it became something a bit more specific: a (more often than not) first-person poem on themes of longing, loss, and mourning

Today’s device: metaphor

Sunset

Not Alone

I’m not alone here where I stand
in fields of green my friend
You promised you would always stay
close by no matter where I am

If I could touch your warm hand
And feel your white breath
Rising slowly upon the cold morning air
Glimpse your misty presence near

I would raise my eyes to the sky above
My hesitant heart would laugh
And my soul, ethereal fingers outstretched
Would touch your face once more

~ MEW

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Day Four: Writing 201: Animals, Concrete Poem, Enjambment

19 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by mariewilliams53 in poem, Poetry, Writing 201

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

animals, concrete, enjambment, metaphor, poem, poetry day 4, shape, writing201: Poetry

Today’s prompt: animals

Today’s form: concrete poetry
Poetry is, of course, a word-based form of expression. That doesn’t mean, though, that the visual layout of a poem can’t affect the way we read it. Taking this idea to a playful extreme is today’s (optional) form to explore: concrete poetry.

Also known as shape poetry, the idea here is to arrange your words on the screen (or the page) so that they create a shape or an image. The meaning of the image can be obvious at first glance, or require some guesswork after reading the poem.

Today’s device: enjambment
Today’s poetic device continues the focus on the arrangement of words on the page: enjambment. What it describes is a really simple phenomenon: when a grammatical sentence stretches from one line of verse to the next.
[Notes taken from Writing 201: Day 4]

Today’s assignment for me was challenging and I’ve not been able to come up with a concrete poem and sadly no enjambment either. However I’ve managed to include today’s prompt which is to write a poem about an animal. As is my wont, I’ve taken it to another level in a metaphoric way.

pic10443

Doggy Thoughts

If I fish around
In the murkiest pond,
Searching: doggedly dig the depths
of the earth beyond
your garden wall
hoping to impress you,
will you cattily say
to me,
I can’t bear you?

~ MEW

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Damaged People

21 Friday Nov 2014

Posted by mariewilliams53 in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

blogging, cruelty, damaged, healing, imagery, metaphor, pain, peace, poetry, tranquility, trauma

Aren’t we all damaged in some way or another?  We all have baggage.  Not one of us can go through life completely unscathed.  Sometimes we do not know what to do with our pain: we hide it, we disguise it, we pretend it didn’t happen.  But no matter how much we try to leave it behind it follows us, manifesting itself in anger, depression, withdrawal.  Let’s care for our damaged brothers and sisters in whatever way we can by recognising their pain and offering love and understanding.

Damaged People

“Damaged people are dangerous”*
Are they really, I reflect
Can this be so, how do you know?
On this bright morning in a country far away
Such sorrow permeates my soul
Does that make me dangerous to know?

A morning of tears, remembered fears
Withering looks from the past
Cut the heart, tear me apart
Pain racked soul heaves my body
Causing me to tremble and shudder

Cruel words spoken with loathing
With no care for the innocent soul
Who listens carefully
And believes this to be truly
The way things could be

No! Damaged people are not dangerous
That simply is a fallacy
And one to be
Disregarded and buried
With past memories in a hurried
And impermeable coffin

Damaged people are to be loved
Taken to your bosom
Allowed to rest there
To be provided with a shady cove
A haven of peace and tranquility

Spoken to as if re-born
Gentle whispers in their ear
Reassuring them there’s no need to fear
That which hurt and broke them
Can no longer stoke the fires of pain

The embers glow now
Softly speaking of
The peace within
That poker no longer
Rakes the healing scars
It is powerless
My tortured soul’s at rest.

*Ouote from the film Damaged

© Marie Williams April 2009

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