Category: writing

Oh, Not Another One

Oh, not another poem about her being in the wars!
Can’t she change the subject and get on with her chores?
Is it so essential to talk about her pain?
Could we have another tale before we go insane?

So, let’s talk about the weather; it’s beautiful outside
But what about the dentist and the damage he’s denied
She doesn’t like that surgeon; her doctor’s on the case
The whole *kit and caboodle is an absolute disgrace

But think about the summer with a lovely cool breeze
Look out of the window at the flowers and the trees
Now, she’s got some pills that should offer some relief
Yet, here she is going on about her blooming teeth!

Four days on these pills, and she sleeps, and she shakes
It’s difficult to concentrate; she thinks she needs a break
She wants to carry on her writing; it’s something she enjoys
But she’s drowning in the water, so we need to throw a buoy

So here she is, producing work; will she never rest?
Though everyone on WordPress makes her feel quite blessed
There is a lot of gratitude within this heart and soul
She knows that pushing on will really take its toll

So how about a holiday; where would you like to be?
Ooh, yes, she says, delighted, and chose Southend-on-Sea
We could paddle in the water.  But the sea is full of shit!
Aww, can’t we dip our toes in just a tiny weeny bit?


*kit and boodle (Collins Dictionary)

Informal (often prec. by whole)
The whole lot of persons or things; all of something


Image by wirestock on Freepik







A Few More Hours In The Day, Please

Well, here I am again, finding I can’t keep up with everything I need to do, and my head is spinning! I’ve had to be out all day today; tomorrow, I have some work to do on a project; Saturday, my best friend is coming for lunch; and on Sunday, I said I’d go along to the local Quakers Meeting House to accompany a friend to a service for the first time. It should be interesting, and I am looking forward to it. I also have a lot of coursework to do, as I’m getting behind on that, too. Please, forgive me, once again, for missing some of your blogs for now. I need a few more hours in the day, or perhaps, a few more days in the week. Anyone here got a few to sell, by any chance 😁!?

Add to all that the severe pain 😖I still have following my botched tooth extraction. I’m on stronger medication than morphine to try and get on top of the pain. It does render me a bit incapable sometimes, as I keep nodding off. It’s difficult to be productive when your brain is frequently ‘logging out 😶!’ The medication is making my hands shake, too, so I constantly make mistakes when typing. All I can say is, “Thank goodness for *Grammarly!”

Anyway, I’ll leave it there for now. I humbly apologise for not reading your brilliant work recently. I am in the process of writing a poem, but I think that’s about all I can manage for the moment.

I know you are all kind and understanding, and you may be fed up with me pleading “overload” again, but I’d rather be honest about things than just suddenly disappearing into the ether.

I may be able to read a few blogs over my busy weekend, but I’ve learned not to allow myself to get exhausted. I know my health is important, whether physical, mental or emotional. I wish you all really well and I hope that you enjoy your weekend, whatever you are doing. If you’re alone and don’t want to be, I send you kind thoughts, calm and peace ☮.

That’s all for now … Much Love, Ellie Xx 💓

Image by atlascompany on Freepik

Commotion (A Poem)

(I’ve written about my teeth till I’m ‘blue in the face.’
I think my tooth extraction was a bit of a disgrace
I’ve been in so much pain, but they don’t know why
The doctor gave me morphine, so now I’m rather high)


I think I’ll change the subject; I’m finding this a bore
I’ll shut those tedious thoughts out and open a new door
I’ll pick up my new book and turn page after page
I can concentrate much better; now I’m not so full of rage

So, let us wander elsewhere; my muse is very willing
No more talk of teeth and pain, extractions and fillings
I’m sitting at my laptop as I search for something fresh
The screen’s gone blank, as the page has just refreshed!

I don’t want more laptop trouble; I’ve had enough of that
Now, Peanut’s on the keyboard; that blooming nuisance cat!
How’s a girl to think with this commotion going on?
Now the doorbell’s ringing; oh, damn, it’s neighbour, John!

Will I ever get this poem written and finished to the end?
All of these distractions are driving me ‘round the bend
The cat’s now sleeping peacefully, dreaming in her bed
Oh, now she’s woken up again, demanding to be fed

There is no peace for me today to write and concentrate
Now, here comes the postman, walking through my gate
I’m hoping for a letter, but he says, no, they’re all bills
Pass the morphine, will you, I need a few more pills.



Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

Dead In The Water

I know this is a bit unexpected, but I’ve recently become very unsure of myself as a writer (and a reader, too, come to that). I’m sitting in my chair in the living room and have spent the entire morning and much of the afternoon staring at a blank page, unable to write anything I consider worthy. Giving up on that idea, I decided to catch up on reading all the blogs I’m so behind on. I’ve read many repeatedly, and I’m still finding my mind completely vacant when it comes to responding to them.

Some of you will also know I’m taking a writing course with a group of writers and a tutor. We’ve just had a two-week break, and I should have written and submitted at least three pieces of work in that time. Yet, I haven’t managed to produce anything that would pass as halfway decent. I have until Wednesday morning to come up with something. My mind is blank, completely blank.

“So, what is going on?” I ask myself. I am still in a lot of pain from Friday’s difficult tooth extraction despite two types of painkillers and antibiotics, which aren’t doing much to alleviate my discomfort. I’m also worried that my lip and chin are still numb thirty-six hours after the procedure. That can’t be right, can it? Perhaps, I’ve got nerve damage. Now, I’m worrying even more. I’m telling myself to stop panicking, but I can’t phone the dentist till tomorrow because it’s a bank holiday weekend.

Apart from being in pain and not having slept for three nights, I’ve also just discovered that I should have come off my osteoporosis drug (Alendronic Acid) three months prior and following the extraction; otherwise, there is a very real risk of getting Osteonecrosis of the Jaw. That’s when the exposed jawbone in the gum dies, which can then spread to other parts of the bone in the jaw and face. I wasn’t given this information beforehand, so to say I am worried is somewhat of an understatement.

I began writing this at around 2pm yesterday, and here we are today at gone 2pm, and I’ve written nothing of any worth of interest. I’ve spent the entire morning flicking back and forwards through posts I want to read and comment on, but my concentration is severely lacking, and it’s past the stage of seeing anything other than panic and feeling overwhelmed.

I’m seriously wondering whether I should give up my writing course and blogging, although I know I’d miss all my classmates and blogging friends terribly. I don’t feel I have anything worthwhile to offer, and I shouldn’t expect others to take an interest in my writing if I cannot reciprocate. Perhaps, it would be better if I weren’t here. I feel hopeless, quite unlike my usual self. I think my desire to be a writer will never amount to anything. I am, for want of a better expression, dead in the water.

Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash

Losing The Plot (A Nonsense Poem)

I fear that I have lost the plot
My poetry is not that hot
Writing all day; what a swot
My brain is riddled, full of rot

My confidence has turned to fear
I sense the tension in the air
Do I have words with which to share?
Regarding this, I am unclear

Where did my talent go last night?
I’ve tried all day to make things right
My absent words fill me with fright
There seems to be no hope in sight

I’m overcome with lethargy
My brain is risking atrophy
This is a total tragedy
My shame is here for all to see

Another thing I ought to mention
Is that I cannot pay attention
This, despite my best intention
My muse is full of apprehension

I’ve lost my skills, I can’t pretend
Confided in my one best friend
Apologised and made amends
And this is where my sad tale ends.
 


Image by cookie_studio on Freepik

Concentration (A Poem)

Having had my grandchildren, I’m now so behind
I’m still very tired, and my strength I cannot find
I’m struggling to find words; my concentration wrecked
though it was worth every minute in retrospect

I’m trying hard to read and even more so to write
every minute of the day and well into the night
I’m rather exhausted with so much in my head
but still, I greet my friends with my arms outstretched

My writing is my passion, and I don’t want to stop
Another hobby I don’t need, so I don’t wish to swap
I fell in love with words and rhyme many years ago
but I am just an amateur, so I go with the flow

I’m somewhat absent-minded; I need to pay attention
I tread very carefully and write with apprehension
I’m so grateful to my readers; you mean so much to me
You fill me up with courage and dismiss my apathy

Occasionally, I am lacking, and I can’t seem to share
Sometimes I get stuck, and I’m pulling out my hair
But with such good friends both far away and near
I have so much gratitude, and I’m full of good cheer.



Image by prostooleh on Freepik

Family Time – A Short Break

Is there a place you can go to break away for a little while? If you haven’t yet built your tree house, it’s never too late to start.

Gina Greenlee, Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road

This is just a brief post to let you know that I’m taking a short time out to spend with my grandchildren, Imogen, ten and Charlie, eight, who are coming to stay with me from tomorrow afternoon till Saturday morning. My granddaughter has stayed once when she was seven, but this will be my grandson’s first stay.

I’ve also taken advice from one of my blogging friends, who said I should take a break as I worry so much about keeping up with everyone else’s blogs. To those of you who have known me for a while, you will know this is an ongoing issue for me. If it were possible, I would read every single blog that plops into my bursting-at-the-seams inbox. I genuinely want to reciprocate the kindness of my readers by showing respect and returning that kindness. I guess I sometimes try so hard to be kind to others but to the detriment of myself.

Anyway, here we are at ten o’clock at night, and I have lots to do to prepare for my grandchildren’s visit. After that, I’m going to bed for an early night and will catch up with you all at the weekend. Please, forgive me for not reading your posts in the meantime. I will start with a refreshed and rested mind once the children return home.

I am so, so excited about them coming to stay with me. I never thought, years ago, that I would ever be fit and well enough to have my grandchildren here while I’m on my own. I might have a disability and need the odd bit of help from them, but that’s okay, and my son is fine with that, too.

As the quote (above) says it’s never too late to build a treehouse! I’m going to be building a treehouse big enough for me, Imogen and Charlie to play in. It’ll be fun!

See you all again soon. Take care of yourselves.

Much Love, Ellie Xxx 💖💝💖

Guilty As Charged (A Poem)

I have a sickness; reader’s block
My concentration’s really shot
I’ve tried and tried and tried again
but nothing stays inside my brain

I’m all behind on reading blogs
My head is full of clouds and fog
My inbox bursts with ninety posts
I look as though I’ve seen a ghost

I’d like to read them one by one
I cannot even get that done
I’m sitting here, fed up and cross
My reading skills today are dross

I want to write; I need to read
but words just disappear with speed
Into the ether and the mist
D’you understand me; get my gist?

I really must apologise
I hope that you can sympathise
Standing in the dock when called
I have to plead; I’m guilty M’lord.






Oh, No, Not Again … (Poem)

Oh, no, not another day of the inability to write
I’ve started seven pieces; not one of them is right
Frustration is building rapidly, hour after hour
I’ve lost my sense of humour; my expression rather dour

I had a late night yesterday; is that why I can’t write?
I look a little pale, and my complexion’s rather white
The cat’s a little better, though; she’s lying in her box
She’s peering out the window at the seagull flocks

I’m struggling to get this week’s piece of coursework done
I’m stuck and not finding it easy, and it’s not a lot of fun
I’m scouring the dictionary for words that I can use
Resorting to Thesaurus while I’m desperate for a snooze

Often, when I write, the words just seem to flow
Today, I should have finished this at least six hours ago
It’s Mother’s Day, for goodness sake; I ought to take a rest
This isn’t an exam or an English language test!

I don’t know where the time has gone; it’s almost time for dinner
If this was a competition, I surely wouldn’t be the winner
The evening’s drawing in now, and soon it will be dark
I’m at the point of giving up, so s%d this for a lark!!




Photo by Yan Krukau: https://www.pexels.com

A Tired Day (A Poem)

I got up in the morning feeling rather low
I just cannot get going, and my progress is slow
I guess I can’t be happy every single day
Right now, at this moment, I’m wishing time away

Can’t concentrate on reading and not able to write
I’m still in my pyjamas and looking such a fright
The cat’s come out in sympathy; she’s looking all forlorn
She’s been dozing in her box, which is tattered and torn

She won’t go in the garden and doesn’t want to eat
She’s crawled out of her box and is sitting at my feet
The pair of us are moping all around the house
She’s not even tempted by the resident mouse

Should I call the doctor, or perhaps, I’ll call the vet
Both will cost a fortune, and I’m already in debt
I sit here looking vacantly through the kitchen door
Wondering what to do; I’m just dithering for sure

Here comes the local tomcat looking for a fight
He’s sitting on the fence in the last of the day’s light
My cat isn’t interested; she doesn’t want the stress
She wants to chill out; perhaps, a game of chess

I’m no good at games, so she’ll surely be the winner
I’m making up excuses like I’m going to cook the dinner
Later on, in bed, we can sleep away our sorrow
Roll on, ticking clock; we can start again tomorrow.



Photo by Rick J. Brown on Unsplash