The Boy on the Beach

Drowned boy

The Boy on the Beach

He lies like a beached seal, washed up like human driftwood on the unforgiving sand.

He came from a war; fleeing towards peace, chasing freedom, safety and security.

His parents wanted all the things we have

Like a decent education for the children and a job that pays more than a pittance.

But most of all they wanted their children to be safe.

The boy thought he was going to a better place.

How right he was.

 

What has turned the Mediterranean into a graveyard?

A place where the unwanted die as the uncaring look on.

Right wingers beat the nationalist drum and raise panic in their wake.

The threatened become the threat as they mill around trying to reach safety.

When did fleeing persecution become a crime?

 

A policeman carries the boy’s body away

To a peace that he never knew in life.

 

Daddy’s Girl

Daddy and I

One thing that used to drive me mad
was my mum saying “You’re just like your dad.”
It was the thing I hated most in all the world;
I definitely wasn’t Daddy’s girl.

As I grew older I started to roam,
glad to get away from the family home.
I wanted to see the world
and I didn’t want to be my daddy’s girl.

But times change and so did my mind,
I’m glad to leave my hatred far behind.
Now I’m proud to tell the world,
“Yes, I am my daddy’s girl!”

Love is like…

love 1

Love is like iron.
Love is like the jaws of a shark; full of bite.
Love is like willow trees in the rain, bending their tears into the water.
Love is like coffee too hot to drink, it burns your mouth with its heat.
Love is like a mirror you look into and all you see reflected back is more love.
Love is like a duvet; warm, comforting, smothering.
Love is like that itch between your shoulder blades that you just can’t reach.
Love is like a symphony played slightly out of tune.
Love is like that jingle on the radio that you end up singing all day until it drives you crazy.
Love is just love.

Magnetic Poetry

poetry blog

Thanks to the influence of OctPoWriMo http://www.octpowrimo.com/ and the wonderful Morgan Dragonwillow, I was inspired to have another go at my magnetic poetry set and here is the result.

make believe woman is a monster/almost sweet on the hot hard morning/rain goddess bring me your night.

Rain!

rain falling

This is a poem I wrote a while ago. Using it now is probably wishful thinking as the last few days have been so hot I would actually welcome a bit of cooling rain right now.

Rain

Curtain of water,
Familiar blanket of wetness,
Grey skied creator of puddles,
Stealer of the sun;
Drowning warmth in your cold dampness,
Sliding over the street and dripping from drainpipes.
Nature’s percussion
Playing on the ground.

The Origin of the Names of the Days of the Week.

Odin!

English is a mongrel language because bits of it come from all over the world. But a lot of the days of the week are actually taken from the Viking gods.

Monday is short for Moon-day; this is from a time when people worshipped the sun and the moon.

Tuesday is from the Viking God of Justice, Tyr; and means Tyr’s day.

Wednesday is from Woden or Odin and means Woden’s day.

Thursday is from Thor and means Thor’s day.

Friday is named after Odin’s wife, Freeya, and means Freeya’s day.

Saturday is named after the planet Saturn and means Saturn’s day.

And finally, rather obviously, Sunday means the day of the Sun.

Now as a practising pagan, we all have our favourite Gods and Goddesses but my personal favourite is Odin. Sometimes I feel guilty and think because I am a woman I should honour a female Goddess more but Odin’s hold on me is too strong and I always come back to him. He is the God of my three favourite things; wisdom, poetry and magic. Odin has a reputation for being deceitful and cunning but I think he’s just smart. Who would want to worship a stupid God, after all?

Another Beautiful Poem from Beth Camp

http://bethandwriting.blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/summer-phone-call.html?showComment=1373366210227#c3262628796335311213

Today’s post is a re-blog of a poem by the wonderfully talented poet, Beth Camp. I subscribe to her blog which I have been following for a while and it is my opinion that her poetry is really good. Click the link and I’m sure you’ll agree.

Jim Morrison

Jim Morrison 1

Today is the anniversary of the death of Jim Morrison; he died on July 3rd 1971. Now I realise that in some respects he is not the most admirable of people. He was essentially, an alcoholic who beat up his girlfriend. Now I never have and never will condone violence against women (or men) but I do realise that alcoholism is an illness that does tend to bring out the worst in people. It certainly did in Jim Morrison.

And yet. He was and still is, a music business legend and a rock God. He did have an immense talent as a rock performer and a poet and writer. And my God, was he sexy! In his younger days he was easily the sexiest lead singer the music business ever produced.

Now for some time I’ve been planning to write a book loosely (and I mean loosely) based on the life of Jim Morrison because he strikes me as one of those larger than life characters that you normally only come across in books. You might not want to live with the guy but as a character in a book, he’s absolutely perfect. He has all the conflict you could ever need before he’s even stepped outside the door!

So if we accept ourselves as all that we are with the good points and bad points then I think we can accept Jim for all the darkness and light that he had. RIP Jim Morrison.