Poems for my August state of mind

Been a bit fed up since the school holidays began. Without the corset of routine to pull me in, my head is in perpetual leggings……. which is ok for a couple of days, but I soon find it tricky not seeing friends and employing my usual coping strategies, as I know my son does.

So, these poems probably reflect that state of mind. Not the happiest batch. But maybe some of you struggle with the holidays too?

The name ‘holidays’, so much expectation there, hey? You look on social media and everyone seems to doing something more fun, noteworthy. Then there’s the guilt you feel because you should be enjoying them more.

Well, if you’re like me and find them difficult and congratulate yourself on just surviving, know you’re not alone.

Even when we are on ‘auto pilot’, that means there’s still a pilot, right?

*Something* is still steering the good ship, so let’s take that as a win.

Roses

I stopped to smell a blooming rose

Held its scent with little care

As stress that living poses

Vanished clean into thin air

I plucked a single petal

Moored its marvel to my hand

Then towed my soul to settle

From troubled rocks to silver sand

I cupped the lipped fragility

So easily torn

And noted it would not exist

If were not for a thorn.

Centre

I felt my centre slip from me

Disc I couldn’t catch

I floated as an apparition

Door missing her latch

And as no-one could enter, now

Perhaps I’d go unnoticed

Sealing, as a wax of wane

Snuffing out a furnace

I churned upon mundane furore

I heard once in a chimney

The beating of determined wing

Face close, yet would elude me

But still, I felt its futile plight

As flutter came to halt

Could not have saved its life in time

And somehow felt at fault

Often, peril serves a pearl

Treasure births from smash

But what if there’s no jewel there?

No diamond for your rough?

Each shell once lost its centre too

Small worlds were prised apart

Yet all we see is pretty husks

As beaches claim their art.

Same old

Same old sky

Sometimes, summer smothers me

Heavy as a weighted coat

Covering my everything

.

Same old day

Segmented centipedes

Partitioning of shuffling black

Lurking in an undergrowth

.

Same old chores,

Auto pilot time again

Squish and cram then breathe it out

Patience hangs as swollen dough

Stretched and hooked, regrown again

.

By night, star legs are cutlasses

I die in moulding arms of moon

Waiting for the bandage clouds

Parked as a fleet of cabs, again

Moody Sky

My heart lay swollen as a sky

That bruises for her sea

Cloud bellies full of silent cry

Shared building mood with me

Grey baubles smashed, as down it lashed

Onto the turning tide

To join an ocean waiting

For new tears to slip inside