Posted in Daily Prompt

Daily Prompt: Bludgeon

via Daily Prompt: Bludgeon


I am not defined by the way you try to hammer me into shape.

My life is worth far more than you will ever understand, so please understand this.  However much you try to bludgeon me with your interpretation of how my life is going, of how good I am, my worth, my self, I have something to tell you.

I haven’t given you permission to do so; in no way shape or form have I given you any authority over who I am.  You can’t press gang me into your mould.  I do not belong to you.  I belong to another.

With your subtle words that seem quite harmless, you indicate that I am cannot be who I am.

Give it your best shot, cos I ain’t going no where.

This time it’s serious.

I am not a pre-owned toy that you can bite on when it takes your fancy.  You can’t keep picking me up and flinging me around.

I’m pre-loved.  I am loved before the dawn of time.  I am loved with a supernatural, never ending, eternal, three stranded cord love.

I am reminded that I need to stand up, stand tall, hold my head high. I know you’ll keep trying with your lying to impart words that are empty, seemingly nonchalant but in reality packed full of deception.

You know what, I don’t know what’s going to happen.  But one thing I am sure of is this. More than one thing, to be precise.  In fact, you’ll lose count when you seem them.  A torrent, a fast flowing river of delight and fruitfulness that will blow your socks off.  Blessing upon blessing pouring into my life, declaring me to be a force to be reckoned with.

Hermia took it as a slight, but I take it in pride “And though she be but little, she is fierce”

Watch me roar.

Posted in Daily Prompt, Thought process


Too much pressure, filling up my head with so much that doesn’t need to be there. So much dross, rubbish, careless trash thrown at me, pouring, grabbing searing pain and it drops like rain; drop, drop, drop until my head can’t take anymore.

See, I’m on the floor waiting for your breakthrough, waiting, passionately crying, frustrated at the greed, the need to cause pain as a source of gain; and the world goes insane again & again.

No more of this; this isn’t welcomed, this isn’t taken into our hearts; all it does is to part soul from bones, bones that groan, that slide into the divide of nothingness.

Yet not to be discouraged by what is happening; to be discouraged as you want to know more, love more, serve more, waiting for fresh revelation, one that not only frees the nation but frees my spirit, cos I’m in it to win it.

So come on, break through, break through so that I can move, think, talk, laugh, love, not in spite of life but because of it.

Plant in dried cracked mud

Posted in Daily Prompt, Surge


What you think you value and what you actually feel doesn’t always hit the mark, express what’s truly real as  your heart skips a beat when you look and see the effect that you have, the extent of the plea as you ask yourself what’s making you live, what’s making you laugh, what’s making you give.

Yes, you give what you can, maybe even more, from the chats on the phone, or the dance on the floor with the framily you love, the ones you adore, the ones who make your heart soar.

When they say the best things in life are free, it’s true, on the head, bout you and me cos I can’t always see what’s in the distance but you bring it all into clear perception.  And when I try to run when I should be walking, you don’t put me down, do all the talking. You listen, really listen to my inmost doubts, then with a crystal clear voice that shatters the darkness you say “let’s walk together, just you and I ” and with your hand in my hand you explain how much you love me, even when I feel unloveable, tell me that I’m precious, that I’m part of your family. Tell me that I’ll never be lonely, never cast aside, never left to rot, never pushed outside.

Why’s that? You value my every breath, you know the stars in the sky and the hairs on my head. You know me inside out and upside-down; I’m your beloved, and you give me a crown of beauty not ashes, give me joy not sadness; I’m your rose of Sharon, I’m your everlasting love.

What you see in me is what I can’t see; what you love about me is all and everything and you value me above it all, yes, you value me so much you gave your life away so that I could be free, rid of shame, rid of guilt, rid of my selfish ambition; now my position is one of truly honoured, highly exalted.

More than oxygen, more than the amassed riches of the world, more than chocolate, more and more and then times by a billion.

You love

Posted in Daily Prompt


A tricky question makes my mind tick tock tick tock.  I want to change, be different but then my self-destruct button gets pushed and I think “one more won’t help.  What can it do to me,”

My dilemma, like so many women young and old. Do I do life my way or do I listen to every scaremongering tale, be made to feel inadequate because I’m not size 6. Seriously, my shoe size is bigger than so many waistlines.

We’re caught in this constant tap tapping away at our self image with damage to who we are; they push too far, then they wonder why we’re up in arms, they say no harm has been done.

Juice, 5:2, low fibre, high fibre, no carbs and so the list goes on, so much longer than my arm. The struggle, the tussle of every day to find a way not to eat our way out of house and home.

There’s no dilemma on their part as they pull at our heart, our soul, to make us aim for that goal to make everyone look the same, to gain full control of our minds with their games.

Don’t get me wrong, I know the ball’s in my court, my retort is one of saying ” don’t marginalise us by our size, don’t fob us off , don’t make us feel guilty when we’re empty, when we’re hungry. Instead, boost our confidence, don’t dent our personalities with trivialities.

Yes, sometimes my willpower slips and I dip into the newly opened biscuit packet, trying not to make a racket, make sure I’m not heard.

But, surprisingly you’ve solved my dilemna for me; I’m full of individuality and you won’t hold me down.


Posted in Daily Prompt, Skin Poetry


A Carpenter’s song called “Masquerade” beguiles with the line

“Are we really happy with this lonely game we play? We’re lost in this Masquerade”

Pretending isn’t easy. Pretending to be something you’re not takes some practice.  Actors have to use this tool, to be something they’re not, to help their watchers believe in everything they say and do, every action, every reaction.

I get that, I really do.  But when you’re faced with something that you can’t quite put your finger on, because you know, deep down inside that the person opposite you is just pretending. And they’re pretending they don’t realise how every word, each movement, every blink of the eye speaks volumes. Pretence has become part and parcel of their lives; it’s the meat on the bone, the cherry on the cake.  And it doesn’t seem to bother them at all.

When you see loved ones, dear ones pretend that everything’s “ok”, everything’s “fine”; when you see the pain it causes them to even talk normally about normal things, with a normal air and you know that every intonation makes them wince in pain, makes them gag, because they know that ain’t the truth.

Of course you try to help, guide questions, invent scenarios for them to be able to say “I need you to do something” and, even when they see what you’ve given them, they’re so sapped, so drained that, although they try, something inside them makes them pull back, attack, deflect the picture back to you, to try and make you not see through what you already know.

Pain reflected, injected, into every breath, without any let up, they’re penned up inside their own cage, enraged by their weakness, their meekness, their lack of strength to tell whatever it is to take a long walk off a short pier.

You look, try not to stare or glare but, with a look, a touch, make sure they know their glow has not gone out, that if they need to scream and shout, you are there; you’re not going anywhere.

But, for now, this moment, this second of connection brings an action of unconditional love into the emptiness of pain, the knowing that, once again, you’ll ease, you’ll not refrain from ever being there.

Posted in Daily Prompt, Surge


You send shivers down my spine.  I can’t escape from what is right in front of me, in plain sight.

There’s no turning away now.

The expectation causes me to stop, to take a sharp intake of breath.  Legs tremble, feet heavy with regret, although things have been, well, quite good. That means nothing now.


What do I do? Face the panic, get it over with or run. Fight or Flight.  If I run, you’ll still follow me until I turn and face you. If I fight, well, it means I’ve not given up, not given up trying, trying to beat you, with your taunts, your weird sense of humour.  Yes, you may well grin, smirk, say to me, in that familiar sarcastic tone “Really? Is that the best you can do? I’d give up right now”

No. I won’t, I can’t. Like all who have gone before me and more still to follow, you can’t give up now, you really have come so far.  But I still have so much further to go and I’m getting tired of your jibes at my inconsistency.  Now my head is scrambled.

Once again,the panic bubbles, bitter in the pit of my stomach.

Ok, I say to myself, let’s do this.

“Whenever you’re ready”

You laugh but I won’t go down so easily this time. I will fight. I will keep fighting you until the battles done. I will conquer this panic, this fear. One day, you’ll change, one day you’ll have to eat your words.

I step gingerly onto the scales….


Posted in Daily Prompt, Skin Poetry


“One more slice my dear?”

My stomach grumbled, though it could’ve been just a warning sign for me to refuse. But my host, so generous in her portions, was legendary for her delicious creations. My tongue was well and truly tied.

“I’ll cut you a teensy bit. You won’t even notice it on the plate ”

Oh. The second part of that sentence wasn’t completely true.  You’d certainly know it was there. In fact, Tim Peake could’ve seen it from the International Space Station. With his eyes closed. In his cabin.

But I couldn’t refuse this slice of gorgeousness. Clouds of smooth, white, yet slightly crisp meringue beckoned me, with a soft, lilting voice. Luscious lemon oozed from beneath, without any sight of a soggy bottom.

My host winked her twinkling blue grey eyes and, leaning close , placed a gentle kiss upon my cheek. Her generous heart, filled with years of tears, fears, hopes, dreams were part and parcel of each delectable bite.  She poured them, mixed them and served each portion with joy.

How could I refuse such a demonstration of pure happiness?

Would you?

Posted in Daily Prompt


The sound I heard resounded round my brain; I strained to hear that sound again.

But was it really there? I leant in close enough so that my nerves were on a knife-edge…

Jump! My heart thudded, my breath grew short, panic rising in my throat. Muffling a silent scream I pushed my hand over my mouth; it couldn’t notice me if I stayed still, if I didn’t move, make a sound.

The air was palpable with nausea.  I can’t stay like this, I thought. I need to move, find somewhere safe. I need to get out but my bones, my muscles refuse to move no matter how hard I try to lull them into a false sense of security.

It’s fine, I’m fine. Breathe. Breathe.

And then the sound again, causing me to jump once more.  I can’t stifle my scream any longer but nothing comes out. Absolutely nothing. The fear pushes up, from my stomach, its grip on my widpipe becomes suffocating.

“Help!” A whimpering noise comes out if my mouth. Now my voice grows.  “Help!”

“Will someone please get rid of this spider NOW!!!!”


Posted in Daily Prompt, Retrospective


With a flick of your hair, you turn and face the camera.

Is she or isn’t she?

The whoosh of perfumed hairspray floats in front of you and, as you bob your head, the droplets of lacquer fall upon every follicle.  Then, with some amount of combing, of teasing into place, you smile.

So terribly cool, so terribly stylish.

Your face adorns each magazine; eyes wide open, twinkling, smiling at your unseen audience, each of which, even the men, would love to be you, the way you walk, the way you always smile no matter the news, the state of the nation.

Like a goddess, frozen , you remain stylishly timeless, forever beautiful.uwfsjrbhcapture-595x417-resize



Posted in Daily Prompt, Thought process


When the room is filled with the emptiness of noise, the walls creak with the overloading notion that silence covers your every step.

And each footstep, marked in humble solemnity, graces the cold stone floor, moving with such grace, such swiftness that the motion in itself becomes a joyous symphony of ebb and flow, bend and turn.

Around each corner lies another place of solitude; in that niche, that cramped space silence brings freedom. Freedom from the constraints, the demands of life.  No voice is heard, only lips move raptly, creating shapes, creating words that bring the cries of the heart to the feet of their Creator.

Each silent prayer is a loud thanksgiving, a heartfelt song of praise, an acknowledgement of need, of humility, of love.

No voice is heard by those that pass by, with their cameras and their audio guides.

But the silent speaker’s heart is filled with inexplicable joy as they chat with their loving God, as they listen to His voice, as they receive blessing upon blessing.

No silence can ever mask their rapture.