Obsessed With Time

It’s happening again. My yearning for connection is affecting my brain. I thought I had it under control. That those issues were resolved. But I’m right back where I started—delusional and erratic. You see I’ve begun to imagine I’m in a relationship with time. As ridiculous as it sounds, I have my reasons. It could be loneliness that’s got me thinking something so bizarre. It could be isolation playing tricks on my already anxious mind. But it feels more, so much more, than that. You see no matter where I am or what I do I know she’s there. No matter who I’m with or without she’s by my side. She measures out my life with so much care and attention. You’d think it was her own and not some random, lonely person’s. It’s ridiculous, I know, I sense you rolling your eyes. Almost reaching for some helpline to offer as support. I get it, I do. I would be the same if it were you. But it doesn’t change how I feel. How she feels. How we feel. How wonderful it is to know when I wake she’ll be right there, ticking happily, excited, to welcome in the day. When I go to sleep, she soothes me with her melodic rhapsody.  Never in a hurry, or impatient, always exactly where she’s supposed to be. I find it endearing. They say she waits for no one, but she always waits for me. Never races ahead, always where I need her to be. You’ve no idea how comforting it is, to know you’re never alone. Even when days become weeks since I last saw anyone. I don’t panic or fret because I have someone I can count on. I count those hours, days, and weeks, in fact we count them together. It’s oh so much fun! She makes everything a game. Things that worried me before now excite and enthral. You’re not convinced, I understand, I can tell. You’re thinking who you can call to get help. But please don’t worry. Don’t waste your time. I’m quite happy here, in love, with mine.  

~The H Word~

Magic Makers

I listen to those I consider
magicians. Those who take
language I know creating
something else entirely.
They weave magic into webs
heighten senses, lighten souls.
I worship their words as if God
meant more than follow.
They reveal parts of myself
I did not even know existed.

~The H Word~

Time Sensitive

Even the ticking of the kitchen
clock sounds laborious. Each
heavy movement of the second
hand mimics my breathing:
slow, forced, reluctant.
I replaced its battery yesterday,
I feel I should apologise.
It was unasked for, selfish,
for my own personal gain.
Who am I to impose time,
time and time again?

~The H Word~

This is a (Tory) Government Announcement…

Freedom!  Coming to a street near you!
No more wearing a mask
or social distancing. No more thinking
of others ahead of yourself.
You deserve to do what you like
whatever the cost.

Who cares if you pay dearly,
it’s worth it, is it not?
There will be many deaths,
many sick and distraught
but there’s no need to worry
it won’t affect your government.

Your Tory elite, will remain unscathed,
it’s a small price to pay
for a normal way of life.
No more restrictions!
No more playing our part!
Take the hit, bear the brunt,
do your country proud.

Who cares if it’s selfish,
we are British, after all.
We do what we want
by convincing you to do the same.
There are always those willing
to sacrifice a life that’s not theirs.

Hail Britannia! We are mighty!
Covid cannot harm us!
Not when we use the general public
as the first line of defence.
Go forth and go viral
spread Corona far and wide!

Make the most of your healthcare
it will be gone when this ends.

~The H Word~

Fear of the Known

Is this fear, stopping me from trying?
No blank page to taunt, no paper
ink or computer screen; complete avoidance.
Pretend, like it never happened.
Try being someone else, instead,
never having written or dreamt.
Absorb the guilt your writer soul
bleeds. Is this fear, that I feel?  

~The H Word~

Moonshine before bedtime…

You cast a shadow at the window.
I should be alarmed, it’s after
midnight, but I know it’s you;
round-faced, beaming,
taking a break from your
revolution just for me.
I peel back the curtain,
slow, seductive, I know
you like it. The room
steals your light, greedy,
but you don’t mind.
You give it up, generous
as always. It dances over
me like a breath blown
to tease the skin alive.
I surrender to the night,
you pull tides around
us in a tender embrace
drowning out the world.
We inhale silence,
exhale constellations
and then you’re gone
back where you belong
out of reach.

~The H Word~


Confidence, so exuberant
several hours before
sits stunned on the other side
of the room. What happened?
it wonders, rocking gently
back and forth. I wish
I had the answers to make
it feel at ease but I’m just
as confused and bewildered.
Perhaps a hug, a soothing
word might help convince
or reassure this is no-one’s
fault. It happens, too often,
there isn’t much that can
be done. One minute
there’s happiness, belief
in oneself and then it’s gone.
I sidle over, put my arm around
this most fragile of emotions
and whisper, it will be okay.
Tomorrow, is another day.

~The H Word~

Abnormal Behaviour

What is normal, anyway?

A series of habits repeated?

Inherited actions passed
down through generations
until someone questions
and chooses another way?

A preconceived description
of a living thing or object?

How many synchronised
actions justify the definition,

Who decides the characteristics
that best define the benchmark
we should all adhere to?

Is our primary desire
really the need to conform?

Or is it sheep mentality?
If enough people do it,
say it, live it, it must be
the right way for me?

Why does my normal
have to be your normal
have to be their normal
have to be anyone’s normal?

Why does your normal
have to apply to me?

Why can’t we all just
exist in perpetual,
glorious abnormality?

Me appreciating you
You appreciating me.

Contented individuality.

~The H Word~

Garden Politics

There’s panic in the garden
this morning. Standing at the sink
barely awake I see a flurry
of activity before me. Sparrows
hopping mad, intruders! they
squawk, flying back and forth
to alert. My tired eyes focus, slowly
to see two giant blackbirds
like two burly bouncers guarding
the birdhouse, not tonight, love.
Their puffed-out bravado means
they barely fit inside. The small
birds are frantic, all the good stuff
will be gone. I almost rap
the window to shoo them away
then remember the children
on the lawn the other day.
Eight tiny blackbirds not
sitting in a row more scattered
around the garden pecking
to and fro. This must be mam
and dad. I give them a minute
to fill their beaks. The sparrows
are pleading do something, quick
but there’s no need. Mam flies
to the roof, dad shortly follows.
Lessons have been learned
this chilly May morning.
Everyone has a place at the birdhouse.
There’s enough for all
big and small. I’ll put extra
out tomorrow.

~The H Word~

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