Daily Archives: June 22, 2013

to the voices in my mind

I’ve got your message loud and clear oh voices in my mind

I hear that you are coming to me

Oh wouldn’t that be divine?

But promises get broken, that’s what I’ve experienced

So I have learned to put excitement aside and become emotionally distant

You will find me at the library; you will find me in a mall

But you may find it hard to do this, as I hardly shop at all

Wednesdays and Fridays are the best days to catch me

But that’s only if you love to come to a town called Rugby

I usually get ten books a time and visit once a month

But I may change my habits

I sometimes walk by rivers to see wild bunny rabbits

I don’t mean to be a difficult catch, I am quite a hermit

But you can approach me if you like; I’ve given you the permit

Oh voices in my mind, how I wish you’re real

To finally know I’m not alone will be a jolly good thrill

But I am insane I fear, for I am talking to no one?

But I live in hope that you are really someone


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Snow song

A myriad of icicles are covering this vast landscape

Soft blankets of snow mask the earth

People shut themselves away in weather like this

Huddling around their hearths

They miss out on the billions of snowflakes that fall

They deny themselves the beauty of it all

The elegance which nature has portrayed gets forgotten

As people sit around saying “isn’t this weather rotten”?

Yet ask a child if it is so, ask if they hate this rotten snow

No they’ll cry, for us its fun, come look at our snowman everyone!

They’ll run around and play snow fights all day

And each and everyone one of them happy and gay

Whilst we gulp great mouthfuls of hot tea

Watching onwards in envy of our memories

Oh, snow, this song is for you

You are beautiful and astute

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old words

I love old words, words found in Victorian texts and before; I love the whole vocabulary that once was, I find it a great shame that society doesn’t find it necessary to preserve them the best they can whilst incorporating new fashionable words. 

I know many people who have an old way about them, me for example, but also some rare friends; they are made to feel like old fashioned blathering idiots for talking the way they do, yet I find it admirable.

Why can’t we preserve the old way conversationally speaking?  Why are people made to feel almost ashamed for keeping rare words alive – and why is the OED removing many words from the dictionary?

It’s a shame, but I aim to preserve them the best I can through writing.

Yes, I understand that to read me can be very difficult for some, but I aim to help broaden people’s phraseological horizons.

This post can also be found at traineegoddess.com another of my sites.


Filed under About my work

We’ve found Stephanie

She was found in Preston, curled up all weary in the streets

I’ll take her home and wrap her in clean sheets

She’ll be safe with us, now we’ve found her

To Dundee we will take her

Our little lady, is a lost soul

We will help her out of her hellhole

We’re her family, though she doesn’t know

Her mind is gone, her sanity a shadow

A remnant of her former past

Her situation makes us aghast

For how did she get like this we ask?

Must be something terrible from her past

We do not know, for she was adopted                                                                                    

To care for her now is what we’ve opted

We will try and find her mind

The way we’ll do it, won’t be kind

But at least she has someone now

Someone who’ll act as her mind’s plough

We will bring her back to health

To help her find her former self

Our little Steffie we make our promise

And it is to keep

We will lay your head down on a soft pillow

Now you just rest and sleep


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Memory poem

A monocle sits in your eye

A smile is upon your face

You sit in my memory

In a happy place

I smile in remembrance of you in your chair

I love you very much, I swear

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Creeping cat vamp

I can whisper silently, my lips they do not move

You do not know it’s me who’s talking; I’m putting you in the mood

I watch you from across the club, sitting perplexed in stares

I burn into your eyes my will and I know that you’re ensnared

I cannot control my habit; I need your very blood

I need to feel you close to me; I need to hear your heart thud

I am hungry for this moment; I am hungry for more than that

I am hunting you my little mouse, I am the creeping cat

A memory of this night won’t come, when in the morning you wake

You’ll just know you slept alone and wrong, for your neck will begin to ache

You will dream of me from that point on, but never know I was real

I only take a little blood; I do not aim to kill

Thank you for this donation, I appreciate it much

I will see you again, I always keep in touch

But you will never know me; you will forget me in a beat

But that’s the way it should be, for I really need to eat

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