Category Archives: poetry

The lies we weave. (Flattery) Haiku.

Flattery leaves us

Hearing a person’s words but

Missing their intent.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/flattery/

Suzanne Rollinson (Oct 2016)

Advertisements

Entire of itself (Island -Daily prompt).

The poet John Donne once proclaimed”No man is an island, entire of itself”. Poetry can be a tricky thing to interpret. Is a poem meant to be read in a literal sense or is it merely symbolism to convey an idea or subject the author is pondering? We can never know for definite and that is one of the things I love about poetry and art. It is left to our subjectivity and the interpretation we choose. 

However in this case I think by reading further on Donne is merely saying that we’re not meant to live our lives alone. We’re meant to live in community with others and it’s only when we have that interaction we are truly ourselves.

The Bible speaks of us being members of one body, again portraying how necessary we are to each other and it speaks of us rubbing each other’s rough edges off”as iron sharpens iron”.

The truth is we need each other. I’ve said many times I’m an introvert. I find small talk painful. I don’t find social occasions easy. Often, even with people I know well I stand there frantically searching my mind for something to talk about.

But I try to persist because I value the people in my life, past and present, whether I have the courage to voice it or not.

I’m grateful for women who came alongside me in my lowest moments of depression. These women sat with me when I was afraid to sit alone. These women shopped for me so I didn’t have to think about what to feed my children and cooked for me too. They sat and sorted and folded my laundry pile when it was stressing me out to look at it. These women and men came up trumps the last few years when money was tight and the future looked precarious and uncertain.

Food gifts would appear on our doorsteps, money and coffee gift cards through our letterbox. They walked the walk. They showed they cared.

I’m grateful for those whose preaching I sat under, those friends who opened up the word and things of God to me, in church and in their homes. I’m grateful for the times of fellowship that went along with these times and the many people who fed our large family.

I’m grateful for the people who trusted me with duties and roles in the church and in the job world and painstakingly encouraged me the very many times I doubted myself and if I actually had anything to offer.

There were times as a teenager I felt I could die from loneliness, despite being surrounded by friends.

I felt like that island. Alone and isolated. Cut off from people and land. Left to fend for myself.

Today I live in a house populated by a small army I created myself, as the saying goes. I know every parent says it and thinks it but my kids are amazing.

All different characters, all different traits, all good at different things but all kind and helpful and loving. Don’t get me wrong, we have all the sibling rivalries and arguments and family dramas but we are a unit, a stronghold. And on the days I am seeking a little peace and a little solitude and the only place I can find it is the lavatory(normally with someone banging on the door asking if I’ve almost finished!) I reflect on the fact that I need these people. I’m not an island and I’m glad of that.
Till next time.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/island/

At night.

At night I lay awake,
A thousand thoughts cross my mind,
Unfiltered, unattractive, fear inducing.

Who am I now? Am I still me? Or is this a new me? Emerging from a chrysalis of sadness.

I want to go back to how things were. I liked my life. It was comfortable. It was mine.

Now the rules are different , now the goal posts have changed.

I don’t like it. It is like a too small garment bought in anticipation of weight loss, it is like a jumper with a scratchy label that irritates you all day.

It is not me. It is not my life. It is not cosy and warm and comfortable. It is not me.

If I wish really hard can I have my old life back?

Suzanne Rollinson (2015)

Through the looking Glass.

When I gaze into the looking Glass
And glimpse the scenes therein
I gird up my jealous heart
Put on a stoic grin.

For looking Glass life is splendid
And no one’s ever sad
And no one’s ever lonely
And no one’s ever mad.

For many many years
The looking Glass was my ideal
The grass was always greener
Although it wasn’t real.

Everyone loved everyone
In just the way they should
And people’s dreams were always kind
And their motives always good.

But mirror life can not sustain
The aching soul inside
The heart must play it’s own refrain
And own contentment find.

Satisfied

I shall not choose to regret the times that led me to this place, these people, this house,
For here my heart has been granted its desire for sanctuary.

I will not choose to regret words unspoken and wrong roads taken.
For they were merely an echo, a foreshadowing of the place my soul would call home.

Here I have found shelter. Here I have found solace. Here I have put down roots and made a family.
Here I am loved. No one can make me feel undesirable or not good enough and although I lack for things I do not lack love.

I am a mother, a wife, a sister, a comforter, a listening ear and it is enough. I am satisfied.

Suzanne Rollinson  (Sept 2015)

No longer Young.

No longer Young

Though we are no longer young
and each day new wrinkles and grey hairs invade
still we choose to love.

For hidden in the shadows of an ever changing face are
the laughter lines of a million memories
and countless nights that rode on a new morning’s dawn
as hearts were laid open and examined and understood.

Those precious nights when the only solace we found was talking on long journeys as the children slept or a myriad of alphabet games that made us giggle when life got too serious.

We have spent almost half our lives together but it would be remiss of me not to tell you how much you still mean to me. Each day I am grateful for your complete acceptance of me even the difficult bits that make you grind your teeth. And each day I am reminded in countless ways of all the good in you, your sense of humour that many never get past and mistake for flippancy, the way you father our children, wholeheartedly and with a sense of fun. The very many cups of tea and coffee you make me without being asked, more coffee lately.

The desire to better yourself. The way you suffer my tv programmes without complaining. Just for being you. Though we are no longer young.

And they are no longer young. Hands that once sought mine in solace and comfort have found their own feet and personalities, and dummies have been replaced with independence.

And however hard it is, those times there is very little in the bank to tide us over and another bill arrives or that important date that gets delayed again and again, I would still choose you and all our history together. Because corny as it is, I love you Jamie.