This blog has been in the Doldrums but now I am inspired to put text to screen once more and share some poetry with my invisible friends:
A recent blessing has been the arrival into my life of a new muse - I hope she sticks around ....
Walking with Impunity
She’s not an ocelot
It’s a different sort of face
Rosettes not single spots
With power and grace
She matches me pace for pace
She’s not a cheetah
That would be too fast
Never outruns me
I don’t come last
She’s not a jaguar
Her head more fine
People believe in stranger things
This is mine.
She’s not my daemon
We proudly share a gender
And somewhere in here
Thanks to her -
I’m still young and full of grace
I have leopard-print leggings
And a stunning face
My eyes are compelling
This fantasy is telling
She strolled in through
A Big Cat-flap in my mind
Imaginary friend
I won’t outgrow
She came
And made herself at home
In the fantasy land
Of my muddled brain
When life was cold
And time had slowed
And in alternative reality
She warms the plains
And mountain ranges
Keeps me sane
No sense of her mortality
My alter ago, better self
The creature I would choose to be
She never changes
Wild and free
I’m channelling -
My muse, my leopard, my Impunity
Who or what would your imaginary friend be?
I needed a little rant about the affection many of us feel for the beleaguered NHS after it has been challenged and eroded in so many ways recently. Somehow many of the staff summon up the Spirit of the Blitz and keep on giving of their best. I wrote this after encountering a particularly amazing doctor who showed no signs of compassion fatigue - a small miracle. Some of the buildings people have to work in are Third world standard but this man and many others are First Class. They deserve better and I wrote this to make the point (and the rant was very good for me).
Hands On
Sally Givertz
They're like
gold dust round here
Can't get
one for love nor money
A waiting
list as long as your arm
And even
then you'll be lucky
But they
sent this one over from
Aberdeen!
He made like
it was just for me
Relaxed, all
the time in the world
He said,
"Can I see your hands?"
He took them
so gently and looked;
He turned
them over palms upward,
And looked.
I felt
blessed, recognised, seen.
Like Jane being clocked by Rochester
Bless the
NHS
For all your
faults
(And they
are many)
We love you
You’re
family
We won't let
the bastards grind you down
We all know
who they are -
Chasing the
money
Getting
their hands dirty
And covered
in grime
But you at
the front line
At the coal
face
In the line
of fire
You walk out
of the flames
Shining
