Sweet Sound… #Poetry
sadness
#Silent Sunday… Well, almost!
This week has been a bit depressing, and not just because of the relentless heat.
In the bird world, it is time for fledglings to leave their nest. Only most of them seem to be doing this a little early, creating a sad scenario for the mothers. Mother Blackbird started her distress call earlier this week, the sad, plaintive note repeated continuously until the baby in question managed to convince her that he/she can fly. The feeling of joy when she stops calling, is fleeting until the next fledgling takes the leap of doom and ends up on the ground.
Late last night, at dusk, I went for a walk in our slowly cooling garden. I was not alone. Mother Blackbird was sitting on the gutter above my head, her cry feeble and pathetic as she called to her baby. I hoped this would be the last of her brood, as she was breaking my heart as well as her own…
If there weren’t so many cats out there, I wouldn’t worry so much, but we have already been gifted with the sad body of one unlucky baby bird. For some reason, Milo, our own cat, thought we should have it. I don’t think he hurt it, as it was undamaged. I just don’t want any more; thank you, Milo…
We are learning so much about our crazy cat now he has introduced himself to the great outdoors. He still can’t use the catflap to leave the house, so that’s an ongoing story.
I was busy preparing supper the other day. Mother Blackbird calling just outside my window when I heard an answering call. Instant panic descended as I realised the fledgling could be close, and Milo was out there too. I reached the back door and stopped in my tracks. Milo was lying in our yard; he was answering Mother Blackbird with a sound I had never heard him use before. Every time she called, he answered, and it was the saddest conversation I ever heard…
This poor mother seems to have run herself ragged looking after her offspring…
Sad News…
Sad News…
You may have noticed that we have been among the missing for a few days.
Well, it’s not my fault or the weather. Since my last post on the joys of getting outside at last, and all the gardening I hoped to do, the weather has been terrible. Torrential rain, terrifying winds and freezing temperatures have left us all reeling and wondering what next.
What did happen next had me exercising my God-given right to slope off with a serious case of the miseries. Not something I usually approve of, but soldiering on, trying to ignore what was happening, suddenly wasn’t working for me anymore.
The basic reason for all of this has been my increasing inability to do even the simplest of jobs, including walking. Not to mention the depression of being unable to write for the first time in years…
After a lifetime of health troubles, I had begun to think that this last stage of my life would be a simple slowing down, that demon fate had finally run out of surprises for me. I don’t know why I thought that really, as what has been happening to Anita these last three years should decry that notion.
It seems I am way off the mark, for the breathlessness and the new pain in my joints have increased way past simple arthritis. I can no longer walk any distance; even cooking a meal is a nightmare. I have acquired the nickname, Quasimodo, for I must serve the meal hunched over, the pain preventing me from standing upright.
After dragging myself out of bed in the early hours to fetch pain relief yet again, I went back to bed and found myself weeping from the frustration. That was when I knew I had a problem, one I couldn’t ignore any more.
I telephoned my doctor, expecting to wait several days for an appointment, but after explaining, I was told to turn up for an emergency blood test. I have an appointment to discuss the results on Tuesday. At the very least, I should get better pain relief.
All of this is nothing new for me, and years ago I would have taken it all in my stride. These days, I just want a quiet (pain-free if possible) life where I can write, blog and garden to my heart’s content and be able to care for my sister…
Her Sister…
continuing the sister theme today, this beautiful poem from Anita…
The Christmas Wish… #Poetry
Too Cold for Comfort…
Image by Susanne Jutzeler, Schweiz, from Pixabay
Image by congerdesign from Pixabay
This is a continuation of my recent post about how pleased I am that I am writing again.
And I really am, but there is something else going on. Or not, depending on how you look at it. Something I am having trouble coping with.
I didn’t mention it at the time in case it was a temporary thing.
I have been up with the lark, writing my socks off and enjoying every moment. Followed by busy mornings, catching up with all the routine online stuff.
All good, right?
But my afternoons couldn’t be more different. I have always regarded the afternoons as my time, where I get creative making new posters, book covers, trailers and new posts.
Since having covid, which was a nightmare, I am far from back to normal and try as I might, I cannot conjure up any magic.
The weather here in the UK has been brutal. I have been so cold; it has just added to my woes. All I really want to do is curl up under a blanket and read. The temperature is set to rise a little tomorrow, and I hope this will warm up my brain too…
We haven’t had any snow, which hasn’t helped my mood either…
Christmas Cheer… #Poetry
Image by PayPal.me/FelixMittermeier from Pixabay
Christmas Cheer I recognise the darkness, the chill in the air The Christmas wish that didn’t come to pass The lonely streets of London So many feet rushing by The occasional clink of a coin drops in my old hat A kind stranger placing a wrapped sandwich in my lap I sit here on borrowed time with one wish in mind To find a table with space for me to sit Join in a Christmas feast by a warm burning fire Christmas crackers waiting to be pulled To touch the hand beside me in grateful prayer Thanks spoken for the warm food The chance to part of a family Christmas cheer… ©AnitaDawes2020
Colleen’s Challenge ~ #Poetry
Born conjoined lived as one haunted, they cry for a better life hiding in dark spaces they dream of how they might be if only they had been born as one in a world of possibilities their crying can still be heard to this day… ©AnitaDawes2022
Her Name is Rose… MindlovemiseryMenagerie ~ #Poetry #Wordle 283
Beware the howl beneath the full moon Old letters come to light, damaging claims that could make the family uncomfortable The child is not yours Letters found by an obsessive neighbour Who rubbed her hand at the news she hoped would shake the family Little knowing her husband admired his wife’s resolve To bring up the child left on her doorstep as her own The letters dated from the war Wrapped inside the baby’s blanket The note read, I am sixteen, I cannot take care of her Her name is Rose. So why now, so many years later does someone want to remind them they are not the child’s parents? Questions that may never be answered… ©AnitaDawes2022
Another Day… #Poetry
Abandoned by the Gods at birth Bitter twist of fate left a scar Avoiding relationships, she drifts alone Never knowing love, her heart stops feeling Drifting on a sea of unknowing, she courts death Over high peaks, she skis on soft snow Never once looking at warning signs Eager to reach the bottom Down the soft slopes to safety, another day… ©AnitaDawes2022