Ode to Sinead and Jake

When you told me you were getting married, 

I smiled in disbelief… 

after all these years?!

I’m sure that even your parents felt some relief.

You two aren’t a typical whirlwind romance, 

But rather, slow burners – 

giving your love a real chance.

I didn’t imagine either of you as the “fairytale wedding” types

But a girl usually has just one chance

to get this whole wedding shebang just right!

So why not a castle with its own lake, 

bridesmaids, archways of hydrangeas,

and an hundred or so guests?!

You look stunning, my darling – 

And it’s not just that beautiful dress! 

So while Jake may not be your typical groom 

– minus best man, incessant nausea,

 and with a pending air of “doom” – 

he’s the luckiest man now that he’s stood next to you.

For those of you who have experienced love and marriage,

I hope Sinead and Jake remind you of the vows you once spoke, 

Facing each other, eye to eye

Committing yourselves to one another

In sickness, health, and love – for life. 

The depth of these vows to each other

They are sacred, and are blessings

– though same may say along the line, 

also a curse! 

But I reckon losing love, or never finding it, could be worse.

You’ve given us joy, and hope – and a dreamy sense of wonder…

That shows us just how much you mean to each other.

And at the end of the day, 

all us single people still really believe, 

That one day we might ourselves take centre stage 

in just as beautiful a ceremony of love

As we’ve all been witness to today.

 

 

A poem written for a good friend and her husband, and gifted to them on their wedding day. I just hope they really love it – it took me months of writing and editing to get it to this standard, and I really enjoyed working on it! 🙂

Written content is © All rights are reserved. May 2017.

Family, life, and everything after

Love is a funny thing;

It lightens your soul

and brings you firmly back to ground.

It lifts your spirits,

And makes you want more…

It fills your heart, your essence, your being

And in the next instant it can turn so ugly,

So poor…

An afterthought, 

as communication breaks down

And once accepted contentment

becomes a bore.

But highs and lows are what life’s all about

And love is a round circle that never ends – 

not really,

not deep down.

Love springs from birth,

from a chance meeting, 

from school

or from general drinking –

If it’s worth it,

it’s love, never ending.

Whether family, friends or companion, 

love begets love, 

and the world keeps turning.

A. E. Housman: A Shropshire Lad

From far, from eve and morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither; here am I.
Now – for a breath I tarry
Nor yet disperse apart –
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
Speak now, and I will answer;
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind’s twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
I want to say thank you to a lovely man in my life for sharing this poem with me; I am even more appreciative of the fact that he only remembered this poem because of me (I blush at that, lol).

The words certainly resonate with me, and while I don’t understand all the references, I did come away with a general feeling – that we’re here only a short time and we should enjoy it while we can.

No wonder my friend thought of me – I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment.

Read more on the poem here: Housman.pdf

And here: Poets’ Corner – A.E. Housman

Read more on the poet here: A.E. Housman, 1859-1936

 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.

​I love those moments…

​I love those moments…

 

I drive along country roads in autumn;

warm,

vibrant,

coloured leaves fall from the trees,

dancing,

twirling around the top of the car in front,

and swirling in a mini hurricane that I drive through unseen.

 

Waking up on a Saturday morning in my own bed,

not hungover,

and realising I don’t have to work till Monday –

I eat, toilet and crawl back into my dreams.

 

I watch the sun set over the city from a bedroom window,

shafts of piercing sunlight,

highlight,

the miniature tornadoes of bugs,

hovering yet circling,

from the heights of the buildings down to the street –

formerly invisible, discreet.

 

The awkward moment when I have to put on a show,

that everyone believes is truth,

but that I know,

is just another face of my many;

and the butterflies keep whirling,

the excitement,

the adrenaline.

 

The look on a baby’s face when it’s all scrunched up from crying,

and how it changes bit by bit,

from the chin up,

when you make that little face smile again.

 

Breathing in the scent of a man,

as I lean into him,

my arms entwined

around his strong forearm,

surrounded by the masses,

as we stroll through the drizzly,

vibrant night streets of London.

 

Listening to music while on a journey,

loudly,

and hearing the full song to the end when I’ve already switched off the engine,

some time ago.

 

Reading a book that makes me laugh,

or cry,

or get angry,

or any of the aforementioned combination;

or simply enlightens me,

helps me escape to worlds of wonder,

and detachment.

 

Walking out of an office building in winter,

it’s already dark –

but taking comfort when I look up,

and see a blanket

of stars,

pinpricks in thick dark blue velvet.

 

Waiting to catch a bus or a train,

in the early morning hours,

when it’s frosty out –

I’m all wrapped up warm,

cosey hat and scarf up to my bottom lip,

I see my breath come out in playful swirls,

then dissipate.

 

Going for a walk on a crisp winter morning,

just as the sun is rising,

its rays strike the stark empty branches of a tree,

dividing through them,

to bounce off the sparkling dew-crystallised grass below,

on the other side.

 

The sound of waves as they lap gently

against a moon-drenched shore,

the wind a veritable friend

chasing the waves

cooling the heat of my skin

as I sit there silently,

watching,

listening.

 

Springtime in a forest,

the sounds of the birds,

the light of the sun streaming through the tree tops

the baby green of the plant life

erupting all around you.

 

Laughing,

laughing a lot

and even at the wrong moments –

but it’s good for my soul

and those around me,

so why stop being a wee bit silly?

 

I love these moments… and so many more.

 

 

Written and photographic content is ©

All rights are reserved. October 2016.

Bed’s warmth calls again

 

The sun was rising, a haze filling the skyline ahead
The frost kissing the grass, leaving it’s gentle sparkle
The low cloud hugging the hilltops as we drove along
Eurythmics serenaded us as our dreams slipped further away
While work drew closer with every second
Exciting but dismal as our days stretched before us
Sweet thoughts of turning back round,  running to the warmth of bed again
But alas, with money comes responsibility
and nothing in life is free
So we wind our way into the city, leaving peace for the day
Only to return when we have nothing left to say
Written content is © All rights are reserved. September 2011.