Welcome

This is a self indulgent blog.
Poems that I have written and other general rants and comments.

Sunday 12 December 2010

Something beautiful

I was looking out of the window into the back garden today. It was late morning.
The garden was mainly in the shade, but there was a single beam of sunshine streaming down close to the window.

There must have been a light misty rain, barely noticeable, it gave the impression of tiny chards of crystal floating gently down on the sun beam.

Very pretty.

Saturday 11 December 2010

I Miss You Dad

My Dad was a 'Crafts Man' in his later years.
Dad retired from the Army after 23 three years. 'Civvy Street' was not an easy place for him.
He eventually found his niche as a pyrographer. (Poker worker). This was in his late 50's and early 60's.
In fact, he was the only pyrographer in the whole of England who earned his living this way.
He would go to craft fayres around the country. At week ends, I would join him. (We both enjoyed craft work). One week end, Mum went with him. This was her first week end at the fayres. The plan was to get a motor home, and they would go of every week end. They were both looking forward to it.
At 04.00 on a Saturday morning, Dad complained of indigestion.
He died at 05.00. No warning.



You made the truest sacrifice,
You and Mum together,
To bring me up the best of ways,
No matter what the price.

Whilst you were here amongst us all,
You listened to my fears.
The big ones, the small ones,
You wiped away my tears.

You shared with me my good times,
My fun times and my laughter.
These memories will stay with me
For now and ever after.

Breath of your God has blown on you,
And taken you to stay
In pastures green
And Heaven's blue.
A place that's far away.

I'm standing her with heavy heart,
And full of disbelief,
Remembering you life, our love.
I'm trembling with grief.

You have always been the dearest Dad
And the best friend ever known.
I love you lots
And miss you loads.
Don't leave me on my own.

Over many years, we've been so close,
It's hard to be part.
I know that you'll be with me Dad,
But, still it breaks my heart.

They say that you have not gone far,
To somewhere like the moon,
But just moved on, beyond that door,
Into another room.

I know that you are happy now,
And suffering no pain.
But I would give most anything 
To hold you once again.

As time goes by, I'm sure I'll find
The pain will ebb away,
And be replaced with memories
And in my heart they'll stay.



Silent Screams.

When I was working with people with disabilities, I spent time working in what was then called 'The special needs unit'.
Well, we all have special needs, some have extra special needs.
The adults that I was working with at the time had extra, extra special needs.
Most were unable to move, eat, tend to their personal needs without assistance from another.


The only time you touch me
Is to take me to the loo,
Or to feed
Or to change me,
Or there's something else to do.

I am waiting very patiently
For a touch that has no reason,
A touch that has no rhyme.
Please just come and cuddle me
Because you have the time.

If I could, I'd come to you.
For all I want and need.
But, as you know,
I have no voice.
I cannot even plead.

Some come and hold me,
Touch me - Do!
Because, as I know,
I cannot come to you.

'95

Friday 10 December 2010

Beech Court

I wrote this along time ago, I have adapted it to fit my present place of work!



We chase it here,
We chase it there,
But what you ask
Is sought?
Best practice and good 
Care we want.
The best that's ever bought.

The staff are good,
The team is strong.
The work is done so well!
But can we catch a little more?
Our reputation to swell!

Best service here
Is our cause.
Our aim to care and please.
To give all independence,
So our thinking we must tease.

Beech Court is clean,
Beech Court is good,
And F.H.A. will pay.
So can we give a little more?
Hey, Sandra, what do you say?

Let's both stand and fight a bit,
And then, for we who fought.
We both stand united
For that little extra caught!

N.V.Q.

This poem was just a bit of self indulgent silliness!
I was an Assistant Manager in a Residential home for the elderly.
N.V.Q'S, Quality Assurance was all the thing then.


The older staff were scared of it all, and didn't want to change, the newer staff were nervous, they didn't want to upset the older staff by embracing it....
You know the story.......
So, my little ditty! lol!


We are here,
And some are new,
We're going to do our N.V.Q!

N.V.Q. means lots of training,
So better knowledge
You'll be gaining.

You'll be the staff
Who understand
The 'proper ways'
To lend a hand.

We'll be here
When you call
To take care
And help you all!

This will mean
You'll be so good!
The very best
In the neighbourhood.

Along with this
You'll have a test
To show the World
That you're the best!

Quality Assurance  in 'situ',
All of this
Will help you too!

If you need to know some more,
Just come
And Knock upon my door.

If you have ideas to share,
Come and see me,
'Cos I care!

Help.

This was written during probably my 'darkest' moments.
Working full time, to make ends meet, I felt like I was carrying the responsibility of the world on my shoulders.
Robert was putting pressure on Keith and Roxanne, my relationship with them and my marriage.
My marriage in tatters, Keith and Roxanne appearing to resent Robert. The family of two parts....Mum and Robert and Dad, Keith and Roxanne. I think that I had some kind of breakdown. I wanted to scream and throw things about!
The only way that I felt I was 'allowed' to express how I felt was to write this....It didn't help much though!


The evening sun envelopes me with golden caresses.
The moon sends her silver dreams, and lays them at my feet
With each wave that sweeps the shore.

To fill my cup of desires until all suppressed emotions overflow,
And lay unused....not needed and wasted
Amongst the pebbles and broken shells.

My feelings are pressed into the damp sand 
Beneath quiet, lonely footprints,
To be claimed by the passing tides.
Silently, the sea consumes all,
And lays them to rest 
With secrets and unfulfilled wishes of others
Who take this path along the beach.

1993.

Mummy Loves our Brother Best.

As I mentioned, My eldest son has learning disabilities. I have 2 other beautiful children.
This is my take on their perspective when they were young, of the whole 'thing'.




She tells me I'm her special girl, 
All a girl should be, 
She tells our Keith he's the son she's longed for
And sits us on her knee.

She's just about to read a rhyme
For about the 5th, 6th, 7th time.....
When - suddenly- up she jumps
And runs like crazy, through the door.
We know it's Robert on the floor.

Or Robert's stripped, or done a pooh,
Or bashed his head on the wall,
Or had a 'fit' or needs the loo,
Or gone upstairs or had a fall.

We want some time with our Mum,
But Robert moves, and then she's gone.
We wait a bit for her return,
But it doesn't take us long to learn
We'll be waiting indefinitely
Before we climb back on her knee.

Later on, she's got some time,
She sits us on her knee
To start again to read the rhyme.
When, suddenly, up she jumps!
It happens all the time.
I think Robert is a pest!
Because Mummy loves our Robert best!




Seeing Eyes

This one was written when I was working with people with varying disabilities. This one was inspired a young woman who was deafblind from birth, due to her mother having contracted German Measles during pregnancy.


Oh! Good Grief - What is that?
It's my drink.
Not a sign.
Not a word.
In my face!
SPLAT!

Don't just grab me,
Push and shove.
Let me know you're coming.
A gentle touch.
A gentle breath will do.

I sit here worried.
What's coming next?
When will it be?
And, from where?

Put something on the table?
I didn't know!
I moved!
Oh Dear!
And on the floor it goes!

You shout at me for spilling!
You call me dumb and daft!
You're the one who's stupid!
Because I'm blind - you see!

My Three Brothers.

This poem was written when my Dad's son made contact with me. 


I have learned I'm not alone,
I'm not the only one.
Two brothers on the shore, I have,
These come from my Mum.

One brother isn't found,
This makes me very sad,
The 'Illusive One' I call him.
He comes from my Dad.

My Mum and Dad,
With wistful eyes,
Say they want then near.
I will do all I can
To make these boys appear!

Some years on
And two I've found, 
And contact we have had.
The 'illusive one' alludes me still,
I cry inward for my Dad.

Years go by, and life goes on,
All trying I have stopped.
The postman comes, a letter comes,
Which on my mat he dropped.

Yawning, stretching, to the door,
I go and get my mail.
I bet it's just another bill,
Guaranteed, no fail.

I open it, and read the note,
My beating heart went still.
This letter has come to me
From my brother, Phil!

My Mum and I had met her sons,
My Dad had met them too.
We started on relationships 
To build them from brand new.

But, Philip, the 'Illusive one',
Contact was much later.
The saddest thing I recall,
By then..... we had lost Pater.


www.carol-mybrothers.com











Lost Souls

My eldest son has severe learning disabilities.
When he started school, I went with him and stayed on many occasions.
There were many other children of similar abilities and ages.
Some children had far greater needs.
The following poem was inspired primarily by my son, but by the other children who were there.




I am but a nectarine,
The skin is what you see,
The flesh is who I really am,
The stone is truly me.

Come and take me as a whole,
And dig and delve within.
You could reach my very soul,
And make my life begin.

Peel the skin,
Taste the flesh,
Gently plant the stone.
See it grow and bear fresh fruit,
To be your very own.

I can offer nothing but
The fruit and all it grows.
Someone there must want me.
It might be you - who knows?

It breaks my heart to wait and rot,
And die this lonely death.
This little fruit can give a lot.
Don't wait 'till my last breath.


Carol Hubbard '83