Prompt 39 An Unwanted Reality – Age

Lonely-Senior

Age, decline, slowing down,

Health, so many factors

In my unwanted reality.

The pursuit of love becomes problematic

You don’t have any more

Whatever youthful charm

You once possessed.

The chase becomes a lumbering shuffle

Your chances are limited but don’t give up.

You body complains constantly

As you push it to behave as once it did in your twenties.

Parts that were always faulty are now chronically so

Drugs keep that at bay, but provide new issues

Weight increases, exercise declines, blood pressure drops

Some activities are fraught with danger.

Recovery once a matter of moments can go on for days

So tedious.

Then to stay alive they say don’t eat this, don’t eat that,

This no food diet will set you straight, yikes!

But I cannot conclude on such a pessimistic note

For we sensate types are more

Forward thinking than looking back.

My reality may be in many ways unwanted, but it is mine,

I make the best of what I have for age brings

Wisdom, reflection and evaluation.

So even though not everything

Is what I would like it to be

It’s my reality and it sits ok with me.

Written for: http://mindlovemisery.wordpress.com/2014/01/19/prompt-39-an-unwanted-reality/

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Sunday Photo fiction – The Three Knights

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Sir Andy?

Yes Sir Al.

Sir Tommy?

Of course I am ya bloody idiot. Where do you think I’d be?

I know you are there Sir Tommy, just being polite in calling the window roll.

Sir Al you need a life man.

He’s right Sir Al you do.

Nothing wrong with my life. I’m an organiser.

You need something man you’ve been calling the roll for six hundred years.

Yeah Al, it’s getting a bit tedious.

Shut ya mouth Sir Andy; I’ve got my eye on you.

Which one Sir Al?

Sir Andy we’ve had this discussion before.

Yeah Sir Andy I’ve had my doubts about you.

Doubts? Ha my knights are as big as any of yours.

It’s true he has got big ones.

Ha, see!

So what battle did you ever fight in?

I’ll tell you, for the hundredth time; It was me who won back the Emerald Isle.

What Emerald Isle?

No one’s heard of the Emerald Isle?

That’s because it a quiet and peaceful place now.

I still don’t think you’re a proper knight.

A proper knight? Agh, agh, crooo, crooo, hack hack…oooommmph.

What was that?

I think Sir Andy just spat in his own face.

Posted in Photo Fiction | Tagged , , , , | 41 Comments

Poem 87 – Is It Any Wonder I’m Out On Me Feet?

overworked-housewife

At sparra fart, I’m out walking the dogs,

A quick jog in the park and then home.

Into the shower, before the morning rush

Hubby and kids descending en masse.  Mess.

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

Hubby waiting, wanting his eggs

The poor dear doesn’t know

How to open the fridge

Let alone make his own cup of tea. Men!

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

The kid’s leave is a hurry, buses to be caught

Lunches cut, homework signed,

Remember the afterschool schedule

Don’t forget to pay the bills. Ugh no! Budget?

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

Then it’s off to the shops, the larder’s bare

What with starving kids and a gluttonous man

A million things to do before ten,

A funeral, the neighbour’s dad. Poor thing!

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

The funeral goes on and on, ponderous eulogy

Greetings and condolences, the time? Oh my,

Tennis at twelve, change in the car,

Six sets then home to cleaning. Grubs.

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

The washing to be brought in

Yuck a tissue, again? Bloody kids

I told them to empty their pockets

Shake them out, no one will know. Care factor?

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

Get the dinner on, well started,

There’s ballet, footy training, scouts

Then homework, squabbles refereed

Dinner on the table, hubby another bad day. Blah!!

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

At last kids are to bed, kitchen clean,

Book to cover,  bathroom to tidy

Wet towels hung out to dry,

Time to sit, drink tea, reflect, think. Peace!

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

Finally the late night news,

I feel myself dozing, feet aching,

Tomorrow  another million demands

I drag myself into the shower, then to bed. Rest?

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

Bed, hubby safely in slumberland

Snoring his own brand of night melody.

I read a bit, look at hubby, reflect on marriage,

For better or worse, mines all worse I think. Drudgery!

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

Then off with the light, snuggle into the bed

Hubby’s back is warm, comforting,

He’s good for something I guess, I sleep,

Tomorrow will again be the same old. Shit!

 

Is it any wonder I’m out on me feet?

 

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Poem 86

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I watch you open your eyes

You smile

Move closer.

Your arm encircles me,

A kiss so tender

To melt my heart.

Your fingers stroke my hair.

There is no reason for words

We speak an unspoken language

Of lovers, joy and commitment.

In the freshness of the morning

We play, gently, savouring every second

Wishing this moment

To never end.

 

 

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 60 Comments

Prattlinsofanirishman – Tackas’ Blog Launch

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Tackas’ First Post

In launching Tackas’ blog, Prattlinsofanirishman, it is my great pleasure to have been chosen as the launching pad for his new blog.

If you have followed Tackas and his tales on my blog you would be familiar with the very unique way in which he expresses himself.

To put you all in the picture with him I quote from his ‘About’  page:

My name is Shaun Tackan and this is my blog…….. I was born in O’Shanessy Street, in Loughrea, the second son to Mary Tackan and Patrick Tackan, my dad was best described to me by my mam as a complete waste of feckin space…….

Please offer me your comments on my work, as I am a beginning blogger and only doing it, as I want to improve meself.

If my words offend, or you don’t see any point in reading further then I suggest you go and feck off and not waste yours or my time.

So to launch Tackas’ into blog land I am happy to present his first poem in what I am sure he would like to think will be a long and poetic career.

Me Mam.

Born into a poor household

She learned to do, so much with her hands

A lady of great talent

Gifted in language

It was always feck this feck that.

She did away with me dad

I never quite knew what she meant by that

But he was never in my life, only mam.

She made our home a loving one

There was always laughter and joy

She made sure we always were fed

She loved cooking, she’d gather us

Around the table, singing song,

Telling stories, listening to our tales

Of school and the learning we were

Trying to harness in our feeble minds.

She was never short on encouraging.

Me brother and I received the best from her

She defended us to the hilt,

She beat up a teacher one day, so she said.

We always got good grades.

She lived a full life

We never did without, surrounded by her love

We are who we are, all her doing,

In the end she died, she suffered,

She loved;

The bravest woman I know.

Me Mam.

Tackas in beginning his blogging career will be happy to feature on any  blog as a guest blogger.  All and any invitations of that kind can be left in the comments section below.

In the interests of promoting Tackas’ career in blogging he will respond to all comments, he will need the practice.

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D’Verse – Banish Boredom: Rx: Verbs!

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It’s midnight

Silence,

Save for

Fingers

Tapping languidly on

Keyboards

Heat permeating

Humidity dripping

Elusive sleep

Tossing and turning,

Will I ever embrace

Peaceful, long sought after

Sleep?

Bleary bloodshot eyes

Salute the morning

My now delirious mind

Imagines far off

Cooler climes

Friendly faces

Greetings warm.

Words flying back and forth

Images created

Drawn in my mind,

Ideas exchanged

Pretentious drivel?

Thoughts explored

You existentialist you.

Your mind exercised

Experiential?

You nod,

You curse

You laugh

The time well

Used

Productive even.

You smile in

Your corner of

The world

Content in the

Knowledge

Your words now have meaning.

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 54 Comments

Poem 85 – A Memorable Day

image

I spent today with you my son

It was a magic day.

I found myself loving being in your company.

We just spent time together

Hanging out.

Looking a galleries

Sharing meals, some fun stories,

You listened to my tales

I shared yours.

We went shopping you

Helped me select a new shirt.

Gave me reject art works

That I shall add to my collection.

Then we worked together,

Creating a tea towel design

Me deciding the design

Copying it, cutting it out,

The stencilling, the painting of the lips

Such fun, best of days.

I am lucky to have you as my son.

Thanks for a memorable day.

Often you know it is just

The presence of one another that matters.

I love you Lucas.

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Poem 84

woman-looking-in-mirror

When you look in a mirror

What do you see?

Is it someone you know?

Someone you like?

Do you cringe at this sight?

Do you wonder who is this person?

Most days I know I do.

I am an imperfect person

Who despite my best intentions

Will never be more than what I physically am.

But that image is not the me I know

The me I know lives inside my body

Safe from prying eyes

Content in whom he is

Proud of what he has done.

My face tells me who I am

The body is what I feed, too much of,

To keep my face on top.

My face is my mask to the world

For behind it is the real me.

You can look if you like

You can dip your mind into mine

Have a look around

See what happens at any given time

Hopefully it is not too scary

Hopefully like so many

You don’t run off in,

Is it fear or boredom?

For I know I am capable of both

Though that notion bothers me.

I am who I am

These days you can press delete

Block

Ignore

But that would disappoint me

As I think I am more than that

I have a lot to offer.

There is within me

An untapped

Reserve of love.

So be patient with me

I am flawed

But I’m ok.

So what do you see?

When you look into the mirror?

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Friday Fictioneers – The Manor House

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Our journey into the mist was marked by adventure. We knew that the Cat people lived in the misty forest. We knew they were not known for their hospitality.

After driving an hour we encountered three figures standing in the road. We stopped; they inspected our vehicle, our belongings and us. They conversed in a high-pitched language very catlike in tone.

Eventually they waved us through and we proceeded to the Manor House to do our business.

The imposing front door was answered by an equally imposing figure but on entering the Manor, we couldn’t help but regret our decision.

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D’Verse – Open Link Night ~ Week 128 – Summer

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This morning the sun rose

Heralding another warmish day

I can tell by the glare

The way the light penetrates

Leaving brighter than normal

Spotlights

On the objects it falls on

The walls flash back at me

The floor sparkles.

In my mind I am preparing

When will I go out?

Where’s my hat?

Sun block?

Glad I mowed yesterday

Today’s shaping up a stinker

But this is our lot

Its summer

It’s hot

More days than not.

Written for: http://dversepoets.com/2014/01/14/open-link-night-week-128/

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 24 Comments