Day 19 – Going on

Writing into Life

Photo by Vadim Bocharov on Pexels.com

After yesterday’s full-on day at the races, I was up at 7.45 this morning to take Lydia for a walk and then go on to a poetry group meeting.

This may not seem anything to write about, except that for me it is.  Just a few months ago I wouldn’t have been able to cope with the day at the races, with all it entailed, and it was a struggle to make myself go to a poetry group meeting once a month.

I know full well that I wasn’t the ‘life and soul of the party’ yesterday, but I held up pretty well, and today I was able to take an active part in the meeting, albeit in a low-key way.

There were ten of us there and, those of us who chose to, read out poems that we had written.

One of the poems presented by the organiser, another Maggie, was about poetry with the heading of ‘Trifle’.  It was a very clever and interesting poem, drawing on her own experiences.

I read out three of my poems:

Ambitions

Gleeful
Wild
Outrageous
Contagious

Cheerful
Fearful
Respectful
Disrespectful
Full

Mad
Sad
Glad

Cook
Read a Book
Make Tea

Dance
Romance
Work
Shirk

Naughty
Nosy
Silly
Me.

I first wrote that poem in 2000 and revised it in 2020.  The ambitions still apply, and I’m still working on achieving them.

Now

Now
at the Pinnacle
14-and-a-half per cent
proof point of my existence
I’ve reached the Nottage Hill
sub-station of my life
I haven’t got a Sauvignon Blanc’s clue
about what to do next
other than to ‘méthode-champenoise’
my way through and hope
that if the cork crumbles
the bottle won’t be blue
and the sieve will be fine
so that
just for now
I can at least
drink the wine

I can’t remember when I wrote that poem but it still applies, now.

The Beat Goes On

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The beat goes on
The beat goes on

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The lights are dim
The lights are dim

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The night is young
The night is young

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
My body moves
My body moves

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
My arm aches
My arm aches

Pump, puff
Pump, puff
The air bed’s inflated
I’ve had enough.

That’s another one that was written over a quarter of a century ago, based on an experience of being marooned on a remote Scottish island, waiting for the weather to settle so that the ferry could come and pick us up. It was a wild night, and we had a bit of fun while we were waiting.

The theme for the meeting this morning was ‘something funny’ so I think I contributed some pieces that were at least mildly amusing.

We’re a mixed group and one person read out her first ever poem at the meeting today. 

It’s good to be part of this group.  And the beat goes on. 

Day 1 – Filing

Writing into Life

Lydia is loving this summer.

She soaks up the sun when she wants to, and searches out shady spots when she needs to cool down.

We have a good walk together, mid- to late morning.

I still find the ‘waking up and getting out of bed’ bit of the day very difficult. But I do it, with the help of a routine which involves meditating and sitting quietly with a cup of tea before I do anything else. And this morning I did get myself out of bed a bit earlier than I have been doing, so something must be working.

Over the last couple of weeks, as well as preparing paperback versions of my two latest books, I’ve also taken part in an open mic poetry session at a local library. This was so inspirational not least because the library is in my home town, and I don’t have many positive associations with my home town, due to what I now realise is the trauma I experienced as a child. I disassociated, went into survival mode, and the rest isn’t history because I can hardly remember any of it. But it doesn’t matter.  I’ve realised it doesn’t matter because it’s in the past, and I’m living my best life today.

What constitutes a ‘best life’ for me though, doesn’t mean that I need to go on exotic holidays or do ‘special’ stuff all the time. It’s the ‘small’ everyday stuff that does it for me, most of the time. Yes, I like to go out for meals, have treats and takeaways, holidays occasionally, but I don’t want to miss out on what I have around me, in the here and now, every day.

And that includes attending to my own personal paperwork – and filing.

Historically I haven’t been the best at this, although steadily, during the process of my recovery, I have been pulling chaos into order, establishing priorities and making sure that I don’t leave a pile of debris in my wake (literally, in my wake, i.e. when I do ‘pop my clogs’ my affairs are going to be so simple for the Executor to administer).

I first started developing a set of ‘rules for self-management’ some time ago, as an antidote for having been badly managed by others.  Ideas for these rules popped into my head from time to time and I wrote them down, not knowing what I was going to do with them, or when I would be able to do anything with them.  The self-management rules became ‘poetry rules’ for a while, as I related some of my poems to the inherent principles within.

Now I’m back to thinking again in terms of self-management, and I’m going to steadily work through my rules, applying them to my life as I continue to walk and work with Lydia, write this blog, live with my partner, meet up with friends and neighbours, write more poems, make more pots. I’m going to do my own filing as well along with a lot of other things I want and need to do.

Ambitions

Gleeful

Wild

Outrageous

Contagious

Cheerful

Fearful

Full

Respectful

Disrespectful

Mad

Sad

Glad

Cook

Read a Book

Make Tea

Dance

Romance

Work

Shirk

Naughty

Nosy

Silly

Me.

Available on Amazon for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited:

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life – https://amzn.eu/d/1ljZIDA

A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Lifehttps://amzn.eu/d/0wj6lWa

The paperback versions will be available soon.

 

Being Glad

Originally published 21 March 2020:

I’ve recently been fortunate to have taken part in a group poetry project.

Group experiences have been central to my mental health recovery for many years.

Some group experiences have an uplifting, energising and inspiring effect; others lead to alienation, isolation and degradation.

The poetry group experience that I’ve recently had was a good one, thanks largely to the enthusiasm and encouragement of the group leader https://mariafrankland.co.uk/.

Everybody’s contribution was important though, otherwise we wouldn’t have ended up being able to publish our anthology https://www.amazon.co.uk/More-Poetry-Newly-Single-Something/dp/1697621732/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=more+poetry+for+the+newly+single+40+something&qid=1584785987&s=books&sr=1-1.

In case you don’t want to buy the book, or perhaps as a taster (I’m one of 12 poets in the completed work), here are my poems from the collection:

Now

Now
at the Pinnacle
14-and-a-half per cent
proof point of my existence
I’ve reached the Nottage Hill
sub-station of my life
I haven’t got a Sauvignon Blanc’s clue
about what to do next
other than to ‘méthode-champenoise’
my way through and hope
that if the cork crumbles
the bottle won’t be blue
and the sieve will be fine
so that
just for now
I can at least
drink the wine

 

I can dance

I can dance without moving my feet at all
I don’t have to do the foxtrot
or quickstep my way to any ball
I can cry without moving my lips
I can laugh without making a sound
all I have to do is know
that the earth is flat, it isn’t round
The dance is mine to make up
from the music of the wind
a sense of something swirling
in and around my mind
I don’t need a choreographer
an audience or loud applause
I just need to dance in my own way
and then I’ll dance some more
I can dance without moving my feet at all
on and on and on and on
it is my dance
my life
my call

 

Here’s to Wealth!

Cheers my dear
to the love that you bring
into my life
and though I never want
to be your wife
I want to share with you
all the good things
that life brings

I love it when you sing
as I know it comes
from within your soul
and as we learn together
to love each other
something magical
unfolds

The trees without leaves
that you hung
around my neck
and from my ears
help to take away
all my fears
of things undone
of words unsaid
the sadness
of never nurturing
a child upon
my breast

Where once was hope
and then despair
becomes a sense of
stillness
in the air
and from that place
of breathing
and of wings
comes freedom to wonder
and wander
into the rich realms
of being together
feeding the birds
with the wealth
of our love

 

Instant Coffee

Heading for instant gratification
no time to waste or spare
I take my mug into the kitchen
only to find a queue of people there

Halted, suddenly, empty cup in hand
my thoughts spill over into the needs of others
heads bowed or lifted
as we together stand

I only needed coffee
and soon the queue was gone
my waiting time was over
but for someone else it had only just begun

***

I’m also proud of the back cover copy that I wrote for the book:

A relationship break-up can be a difficult experience at any age.  It isn’t always easy to see the opportunity beyond the heartache, and even less easy to find ways of putting the experience into words. 

The triumphs of Maria Stephenson’s emergence into a new life as a writer and teacher are embodied in her collection of ‘Poetry for the Newly Single Forty Something’ (2017).  Maria didn’t just stop at publishing her own collection though.  She inspired others to explore their creative approaches to the theme, leading to this exciting anthology, which is more than the sum of its poems.

The words of each poet paint a picture of part of their own unique life story. Demonstrating diverse responses to life and writing challenges, threads of commonality emerge and unite.

What are you waiting for? Dive in, explore, share in the joy of words and wonders of life that these writers have explored and shared. These poems aren’t just about being newly single, or about being forty something, they are about being – essentially – human.

The reason for my pride is partly because I think it stands well as a piece of writing in its own right (and even being able to credit myself with that is a remarkable* achievement in its own right), and partly because of what it represents for me in terms of having come through what I’ve come through, still fighting, still writing, still reaching out.

* https://iamremarkable.withgoogle.com/ (#IamRemarkable is a Google initiative empowering women and underrepresented groups to celebrate their achievements in the workplace and beyond.)

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ptwe4S


A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
https://amzn.eu/d/6Ho21L8