Poems by Trish

Northern Exposure

Winter - what weather!

What whirling white

Whispering wonderland

What whipping wind

Waging war - wicked!

Immediately I imagine ice

Incredible icebergs.

Ice-maidens in igloos

Inviting informal insulation.

Invigorating intoxication.

Nose on nose, nuzzling

Not icy now. Nestling naked

Nurtured and nourished.

Normal northern Noel.

Nothing nicer!

Togetherness, touching toes

Taking the time

To tantalize and titillate

Telling a tender tale

Thinking tempting thoughts

Eskimo ecstasy.

Exposure escaped

Enclosed entwining

Every evening

Extremely enjoyable entertainment

Rested and relaxed

Reclined and refreshed

Re-heated and ready to resume

Reindeer round up around this

Remote refrigerated region

 
 
Bear on the Brink (or Teddy on the Edge..)

He stood on the edge

and stared into space

A teddy on tip-toe

all fur pads and grace

He flapped his arms up

and flapped his arms down

So high on the ledge

of a tower block in town

A bear on elastic

what child’s game is this?

To launch the bear off

This high precipice

She’s a strange little kid

this youngster indoors

To harness him up

with straps on his paws

He’d have to be brave

to dare take the dive

The first bear to jump

and bounce back alive

But for her he will be

the first bear to jump

To bungie like mad

without making a bump

Love has given him faith

in her judgement and skill

And he’s feeling quite brave

on the high window sill

The elastic is ready

She watches him go

Head first and plunging

Yo-yo, Yo-yo !

Daisy on the lawn

I'm just a little daisy

Watching all the fuss

Hob nobs at the table

Servants in a rush

I'm just a little daisy

Waiting in the grass

Soon they'll all be romping

Stomping on my ass

Daybreak

This is my creative time

favourite and favoured

early morning, dawn

that easy drowsy stirring time

as something new begins

quiet and misty, faintly secret

not fully developed

yet full of promise

hopeful

I ponder, facing a North-East east

gazing towards a hazy horizon

that distant line, softly smudged

as a painter might

blur soft grey light

of cool sky into dew-moist field-green

where skyline meets earth

and a promise of brightness touches

familiar earthly reality

A faint breeze stirs, wafts

carrying bird-song and small sounds

as slender branches bend, bud-laden

waiting for their moment

when spring warmth will burn through

to rest on each folded leaf, clenched like a fragile fist

just as my mind waits, anticipating, receptive

ready to open

Family Ties

I am a daughter to two

And a sister to one.

I am a niece and a cousin

I am an aunt.

I was a granddaughter to three

But time passes.

And so do family ties, naturally.

I became a girlfriend, then a wife.

A daughter-in-law

And a sister-in-law to two.

Then, a pregnant wife.

Now I am a mother, whatever happens

I am a mother

Some attachments are permanent.

I was a 'joint' parent for a while

Now I am a 'single-parent'

And a divorcee.

I will never be a widow

I am no longer a daughter-in-law

I am a sister-in-law to one only.

Some ties are un-knotted, to ease the strain.

I was a mother-of-the-radiant-bride.

I am a mother-in-law.

Now I am waiting to be a grandmother

One day, perhaps

If everything goes to test-tube plan.

This next attachment must be planned.

Sometimes the loose-ends will not meet unaided.

These are my family ties

And I am bound by them all, inescapably.

To each, I am what I am -

But who I am to each is relative

And depends upon perspective

Which changes and is changing.

Some bonds wear and fray, as time passes.

There will be heartbreak ahead.

Family ties will be wrenched away

And I must learn to cope

With what it is to be ..............?

What is the status?

Of being without parents in middle-age.

What will I be without their love, binding?

I will be a mother.

Always and always a mother

There is no name

For a parent who loses a child.

I will be a sister to one

And a sister-in-law, an aunt and a cousin.

For a little while longer -

I will be me,

I will be my family

Fear of white coats (1)

The men in white

are coming now

I can’t escape -

no-way, no-how

It could mean teeth

or skin or bone

It could mean blood

Leave me alone!

It could mean hair

or nails or gums

It could mean mad

Get out the guns

My number’s up

No giving in

Don’t think I’ll go

Without screaming

Fear of white coats (2)

Your fear is quite unjustified

If you always stick to the plan

And eat nothing fatty or fried

Enjoying fruit and veg and bran

Boiled rice is nice and full of starch

 Pasta’s packed with carbohydrate

There’s lots to drink if you are parched

Water will help you re-hydrate

The men in white just want to know

Is your weight going up or down

If you’ve been good you’ll feel so proud

If you’ve been bad you’ll feel a clown

The shame and humiliation

May seem a torture of the mind

But here at “Pigs Anonymous”

We are just being kind

“Get off those shoes and stand on here!”

“This sniveling will have to stop”

“Do as you’re told while we all sneer”

“If your weight is up - you’re for the chop!”

Against the Grain

You all came together, a caring rabble

Stamping and marching

Crushing lush land

With striding boots, heavy steps

Snapping dead wood under foot

You came together and were probably the best

There are many others less thoughtful

Who would maliciously stamp about

Just to spoil and break

And make some hard impact

At least you all came to admire and truly see

This preserved place

Something for you to view as it was

And still remains although you change

Because you have to progress

You came to see the absolute beauty of the wood

Shimmering clean, bright, sharp, light

Fused with softly, shaded, dark shadows

Forming natural patterns which fall

Onto the surface of every eye

Each image slips like silk through each blinking retina

Like a drifting, falling leaf

And comes to rest on a single frame of memory

Waiting to be developed

To be re-lived, re-remembered, re-called.

What is it that you see as you walk

And clamber and climb over this patch of ground

How far can your eye travel into the distance

Is your sight limited, halted

By boundaries of substance and time

As you look into the wood for life and loveliness

Can you feel your roots begin the stir

An inner squirming and writhing

An unsettling and disturbing fascination

As nerves alert half dead senses to listen, smell, touch.

But you dare not linger in the wood for long

Stirring that part of you which is untamed

Repressed instincts which made you what you were, in the past

Seem too savage now to be acknowledged in reality

You have become civilised, modern.

You come here now to look for pleasant reminders

But you cannot deny

That when you see beautiful dappled sunlight

It can only be so because of dark shadows.

Every bright star has a dark side, hidden from view.

Sugar Free

He wanted to control this tasty woman

But he was feeble, weak, stupid

Although he didn't think he was stupid

He thought he was sharp and tangy

And had a God given right to possess and devour her

She loved him in the beginning, hungry for life

Was tempted by the treats he offered

His appetite appeared to be the same as hers

But the feast he promised to provide

Was never to be more than mere survival rations

He occasionally handed her little delicacies

The way an evil adult may offer sweets

To a child he doesn't like - or likes too much

In order to disarm by charm

Whilst towering above waiting to bite and swallow up

At times he offered her sweetmeats of kind words

Praising or flattering phrases

Which made her feel temporally satisfied

And guilty for not considering him generous

But slowly a pattern of conditioning began to emerge

Verbal punishment always followed nourishment

A reminder that the sweets were offered

By a hand that might strike and crush

Unless pity made him offer another treat

To a now hollow and hungry wife

He treated her as if she were a child

And enjoyed the role of cruel confectioner uncle

Allowing her a lick now and again

Of sugar candy when she was flavour of the month

But of course it was all humbug

He was too cowardly to offer his sweets

To any experienced gourmet

Who would immediately reject the syrup

Knowing it to be too sweet

And the cause of inevitable decay

But she was kept starved and licked the honey

Until she became sickened

When he followed each succulent slurp

With bitter scorn and sour contempt

Dishing up mockery and half-baked sarcasm

She began to realise he had power over her

Because she desired the promised sugar

And if she could ignore her craving for sweetness

By accepting there was no real substance to it

She would be free to savour other flavours

So she began to reject the sugar altogether

And replaced the need for something sweet

With substitute tastes

Gradually introducing small portions of independence

Seasoned with essence of self confidence

She expected there would be an after taste

But there was none

Only a clean sensation in her mouth

As she brushed away the film of dependence

And rinsed away cloying repression

Her life gradually became a banquet

Rich in wonderful new flavours

Ripe, round, and succulent, delicious tastes

Where honey, syrup and sugar could be sampled without fear

Because he was banished from her table

Powerless he became a bitter man

Turning rancid as he slowly putrefied

Rotting away because she no longer needed him to feed her

He was reduced to a stale, tasteless morsel

Pushed away with total disinterest and disdain

His sugary simpers had no effect on her

Although he said she could not survive without him to sustain her

His sour, bitter words sounded thin and watery

As he tried to serve vengeance to an empty place

His words simply dissolved in tasteless slop

Today she sits at another table

Enjoying a wonderfully varied menu of sensual delicacies

Tasting exotic flavours until intoxicated with pleasure

Without the fear of his dependence-poison

Life has become truly satisfying