Thank You, Mum

A day, almost certainly, doesn’t cut it.

Mother’s day has long been associated with cards, flowers, and the general giving of gifts to a maternal figure, but it is about so much more than that. It is a celebration of a lifetime devoted to a child, a celebration of unconditional love, and a celebration of the influence of mothers in society.

I’m lucky to have a mum like mine — a great woman who I can thank for so many things. She has instilled in me a love of reading and writing that has become central to who I am; supported me through my every endeavour; and because she believes in me, I can believe in myself.

I can write all the poems, all the stories, and the speeches in the world, but it’ll be a drop in the ocean of all the things my mum has done for me.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mum. Here is a poem dedicated to you.


 

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Poetry 101 Rehab – Whisper

The whisper glides along streets,
Erodes long worn cobbles as it passes.
Through spokes of a rusting wheel
To the school and into classes.

The whisper begs attention,
A susurrous lingering in the alley
Carried on by a man, head down,
Hands in pockets.

In through the windows of lovers,
Detumescent in the moonlight.
Pulling at swollen lips
Which repeat the words with spite.

See a whisper is a powerful thing,
Once uttered, then magnified,
Twisted beyond recognition.
Once truth, a whisper begets the lie.


I love Andy Townend’s Poetry 101 Rehab series, it’s great for those languorous days where you need a little bit of inspiration. This time, the word was Whisper. This was my response.

The Writer’s Curse

Leaving my world of undreamed subtleties,
I am left trying to authenticate
My life. Sometimes in my dreams gentle breeze
Flutters across my nightmares and abates
My
suffering.

There is a tepid dissipation then,
A dissipation of dreams I wanted
to be true. Thrust into the daily ken.
I pick up my pen again and bleed a
Verse,
Quietly.

In the corner of my room it’s just dark
Enough, lit by the footlights of my soul
And not by the floodlights of those who judge.
Putting words to paper is a blessing.
a blessed experience.

And I am cursed

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