Only the essentials.

She opened up her handbag

 and tipped the contents on the floor

All her must-haves and life essentials,

the keys to the front door,

Tissues to capture sneezes,

Tablets to ease her pains,

Pens for making notes with

An umbrella, incase it rains

Scrumpled receipts from shopping trips

A month or six ago

A safety pin and darning kit

For things she needs to sew

A slightly matted hairbrush

For when she needs to preen

A bottle of sanitiser

To make dirty hands clean

A notebook for observations,

A mobile phone and charger

A trolley coin, a shopping bag

For stocking up the larder

A purse full of rewards cards

But very little cash

Some lipstick, liner and mascara

For a fuller looking lash

Menstrual pads, some tiger balm,

Can we fit anything else in

to this girls’ bag of necessities?

When a wallet and keys is enough for him.

Online incarceration

At the start of my sentence in two thousand and seven
I misunderstood the gravity of the step that I was taking
Propelled by a wanderlust; a desire to join the throng
I dived into the waters though the current was far too strong
For a will as weak as mine to rebuff this new temptation.

Eleven years on, when real criminals have already been released
From the cells that they once occupied for fraud or being thieves
I remain here imprisoned by the person I became
When I signed up to Facebook and turned into a social media slave
Addicted to the constant additions in my daily newsfeed

I have lost the art of conversation, cut myself off from friends
With diminishingly broad horizons, I follow the latest trends
Foisted on us by algorithms
Society divided by deepening schisms
Polarisation now rules as various groups seek to achieve their ends

On a personal note, I know I am not the woman I was before
I used to phone my friends, often I would knock upon their door
Make arrangements to meet up with them, pop over for a cuppa
Watch a film, go clubbing or invite them round for supper
Activities now obsolete since enlisting as an online voyeur.

Currently I waste my days trekking through a barrage of posts
An eternal journeyman on the pathaway from those I love the most
Arguing with strangers about opinions that I hold true
Interacting with nobodies but never changing their points of view
A fruitless loss of precious time – a truly weighty cost.

And so I must release myself, the problem, I’m not sure how!
No more fear of missing out, the time to stop is now
You only live once is what they say or YOLO for short
Rubbernecking on others’ lives is no life, that’s for damn sure
But first I’ll check this poem’s likes, then I’ll take up my vow.

Gut instinct

My gut instinct tells me

that something is very wrong,

that they have been busy twisting truths

to make us submit and play along

My gut instinct tells me

that we can’t deny what’s here

But if we ponder all the consequences

Which is really the most severe?

My gut instinct tells me

that emotions are riding high

because psychology was employed

to make us swallow all the lies

My gut instinct tells me

that the overriding mantra

Is not hands, face, space

but divide and fucking conquer

My gut instincts tell me

That the future’s looking grim

Because we’ve turned on one another

Instead of blaming them!

My gut instinct tells me

That it’s time to fight for truth

To protect the weak in our society

and the future for our youth

To the boy with the bruised ego

This poem is very personal and at the time felt quite raw. For the record, the ‘boy’ could be anyone. I think it pricked at some consciences and I was glad of that though, originally, it was only penned to share with one person!

I wrote this for my daughter Mali and for any girl playing in a boys’ sport. She is an ice hockey goalie and plays on mixed teams. She has made many, many great friends. Most boys are brilliant teammates, but we had a bit of a rough spell when a tiny minority of them were not so nice.Luckily, we are past all of that now.

To the boy with the bruised ego.

I’ve had about enough of this.

We’re supposed to be allies

On paper, we’re on the same team.

And yet you cannot stop yourself

One personal attack after another

Trying to make me look small

But you can’t

For I am tall (much taller than you!)

And maybe that’s what upsets you?

I am more formidable.

On the outside.

I just want to play the game I love

But you don’t want to let me

You try to upset me

But when we stand in line to be counted

It’s me they pick over you

Every time

I guess that hurts.

So, you may see the salty tears

Sliding down my cheeks

From the lash of your words

And the sting of your lies

But to truly beat me, you must be better than me.

You are not and you never will be.

Wishful thinking

Another non-story
In the News
Who slept with whom?
Who’s got new shoes?

Who cares?
Not me
Want the stories
We can’t see

Too much bullshit
Every day
Causing us
To look away

Sold lies
The hidden truth
Despairing for
Our hopeless youth

Life is fast
But days are slow
As on the gravy train
We go

Round in circles
In our attempts
To reach fulfilment
Be content

Too much distraction
Not enough sleep
All night long
Phones that beep

Bringing non-news
And facebook shares
Instagram photos
Straight to our lair

Then in the morning
We return
To the real world
With heads that burn

Got no trust for
Those in power
To do right by us
From their Ivory tower

Find billions
to fund war
Leave nothing over
To feed the poor

Remove our rights
To claim tax credit
A new minimum wage
If you can get it

Keep kids in school
For qualifications
Not enough jobs
In this damned nation

Need a PHD
to stack shelves,
drive a wagon
or just feed ourselves

Cos ‘foreigners took
Our pay packet’
‘Gotta keep them out
Cos I can’t hack it’

‘It’s all their fault!’
I just know
The Daily Mail
Told me so!

Frustration growing
Impossible to see
Who is friend?
And who’s an enemy?

So stop and think
And use your mind
Let your brain,
and not Wapping, decide

Be human
Care more
Think a second
Open the door

To other hearts
And new ideas
Hear not just
What we’re told to hear

Look at events
With open eyes
And a desire for
The one true prize

Of a human race
That works together
For everyone’s good
To make life better

Silly little ditty

I basically made this up spontaneously last night so it’s a bit throwaway but my friends seemed to like it.

Pratting about!

I’m sat here in my bed
and I should be going to sleep
But I can’t drag myself off facebook
I’m just too fucking weak.

My eyelids they are heavy
And my eyes have started to sting
I need to turn the light off
and get off this bloody thing

My hubby is a snoring
the cats are curled up too
The dog has nodded off
and i have nothing more to do

except set my bloody alarm clock
and have my night time pee
Turn my bedside light out
Then snuggle down and get cosy

But I haven’t got round to it
Cos i’m making up this rhyme
and if I’m not bloody careful
I’ll hear the midnight bells all chime.

So i’m gonna get my head down
And post not one thing more
So I can get a few hours shut-eye
And getting up won’t be a chore

Retirement Plan

I wrote this 2 years ago. I am quite a long way off of retirement but when I get there I have plans! I am a wannabe crusty.

Retirement Plan

I want dreadlocks
Old, grey dreads with brightly coloured wool.
They will be long
but not too long
so that I can put them up
and they will be a sign
That I have finally left the rat race – One day!

When I go out,
even if I have to dress up,
I will have my dreads and
they will make me smile
My dreads will be versatile.
They will be part of the woman I will become
I won’t be mum-sy
Or beige. Or bland.
With my dreadlock crown.
I will stand out from the OAP crowd.

When I am older and can shun
my responsibilities.
My long, grey and bright woolly woven dreads
Will show one and all that I am free

Suffocation by media

I am definitely my own worst enemy. I feel increasingly angered by the current situation, not so much because it’s happening but more so because there is absolutely no escape from it.

And by ‘it’ I am not talking about the virus itself but the communications flowing forth because of it.

Of course, I bemoan the tsunami of news items, social media posts, new guidelines, government U-turns, discussions and jokes all about Covid that threaten to drown and overwhelm us on a daily basis. Yet I spend hours on social media in pointless discussions with people whose views on the outbreak I will not alter. It’s unlikely they will change mine. I check the news not once but at least ten times a day. I spend my walk to work browsing facts about the virus, other countries’ approaches to dealing with it, checking facts quoted by the believers and the naysayers.

It’s like some twisted addiction that I feel powerless to break free from. The sad fact of the matter is that, even when I partake in activities to divert my mind and my energies away from this depressing state of reality, more often than not I have to consider the virus and its effects upon how I go about these pursuits before I can even start. Which brings me back to square one.

I sat down this evening and started thinking about what I would like to write about and I was totally stumped . Quite frankly, at the moment, what else is there? I am thoroughly wearied by it. It’s like I’m suffocating in a dirty, festering blanket of Covid information, disinformation, guidelines, opinions and whatever else. I am sick and tired of it and I apologise to all for adding another square to the already cumbersome blanket through the writing of this post.

My one desire

Ask me what I desire the most in my humble life right now

And I would honestly proceed to tell you

that I don’t need extra money

I don’t care for a shiny new car

My house is just about big enough for the four of us

I lack neither food nor clothes nor means of entertainment

books, CDs, the TV are in ample supply

to fill my every waking hour

and then some hours more

Surrounded as I am with more than enough love,

friends, multiple aquaintances,

furry companions too

All in sufficient quantities for this lifetime.

So if you approached and asked me

What is that coveted thing that I most desire?

My answer would simply be time

That elusive comrade time

Just 60 minutes more in each blessed day

To live in my cosy terraced house and to drive my run of the mill car

To cook our meals and savour them

To pick a suitable outfit every day and add the appropriate accessories

Which sometimes might coordinate

If I’m in that kind of mood

An hour in which to do my hair or paint my nails

Or on a different day

To hug the people I love, phone friends and arrange to meet up

Then actually meet and be present,

leave the pressures of life at the park gates or the pub or restaurant door.

With this small unit of time I could…

finish the film,

lose myself in the book,

listen to my favourite album and its neighbours on the shelf

A day should consist of 25 hours. Not a measly 24!

One single extra hour in each bright, inviting day

Is that too much for a person to be asking for?