Lost the Glow

matheus-ferrero-207820.jpg

To the tune of “Like a Rolling Stone”.  Apologies to Dylan fans!

Many moons ago

you were all aglow.

Blanked the ones below.

You were in the know –

weren’t you?

 

Friends pled,

“watch out”, they said.

“We’ve got the dread

for what lies ahead

awaiting you.”

 

You teased and ridiculed

all the people

that you fooled.

Now you don’t

shine so bright;

now you hide

out of sight

scared of what they’ll think

of you.

 

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

You’ve lost your way,

a discarded stray

and your glow’s turned grey.

 

I doubt Bob Dylan would be impressed! On the up side I had a lot of fun writing it and managed to include yesterday’s word prompt grey (British spelling)  🙂

 

 

That Night

 

Humid heat and perfume,

dance around with beers.

Bitter Sweet Symphony

playing in my ears.

 

Sweaty people jostle

for first getting rounds.

You stood there before me

fading out surrounds.

 

Thought you were your brother;

we smiled holding eyes.

You did things he never –

body sensitized.

 

We both loved Jimmy Stuart…

time zoomed pub was closed.

Outside we talked for hours –

feeling were exposed

 

Relished your everything –

lay down for a year.

You joined hearts with string –

but love was never clear.

 

Crumbled hopes and trampled heart

Bandaged up, shipped away.

But sometimes I go back there

inside – when days are grey.

 

I write under a pen name and nobody in my life knows I have a blog. They’re never heard of Beth O’Neal. Here’s a little poem my husband wouldn’t like. If it disappears along with chunk of other stuff, Beth has been outed.  I love my husband, he’s a better man than this one. Still, it’s nice to romanticise the past 😉

Think Twice

I’m rarely on Facebook nowadays because I felt much of it was superficial and not representative of how people are living or feeling.  This isn’t the best poem I’ve written but it’s a reflection of how I find it a lot of the time. How the person portrays their life on Facebook is the first part of each line, followed by how they’re actually feeling in brackets:

 

Lee tells them all she’s feeling blessed (but sinking deeper and depressed).

Friday selfies to show how she’s dressed (keeps to herself she’s feeling stressed).

He posts photos of his new Audi (the Mrs thinks his taste is gaudy).

Look at the pecks on his body! (He wants to feel like a somebody).

Drinking Cava on a school night (she’s worried she’s not feeling right).

Jessica’s son’s future is bright (it’s a shame his mind’s full of spite).

Off on holiday yet again! (money they don’t have, down the drain).

Happy group photos from a plane! (mummy thinks she won’t remain sane).

Snapchat flower filters galore (anything’s better than before).

Admiring men want to see more  (it’s not men she’s looking to score).

 

Hyperbolic boasting designed to entice

If you think they’re all happy – you’d better think twice.

 

I used to be  addicted to Facebook. Every hour I had to check up on my friends, see what they’d been up to and ‘like’ some posts. For years I did this quite happily, but then more people tried ‘friending’ me. I didn’t want to be impolite, so I accepted.  Soon I realised I wasn’t so interested in what the girl two years below me at school had for her dinner again. She walked past me in the street – some friend she was! 🙂

I’ve relatives and friends scattered around the world and Facebook is a great way of keeping in touch with them.  Some if it is just superficial though, isn’t it? For example, there’s that time I looked at wonderful holiday snaps a good friend had posted to Facebook. The family looked happy and the location was glorious. We spoke about the holiday on their return.  It’s then that she informed me that when those photos were taken, the family had an almighty fight and most of them fell out for hours afterwards.  This sort of thing puzzles me. Why put on this front to the world that everything was amazing, when they were miserable at that time? It’s not like they told a white lie when someone asked. They actually went to the bother to post the photos for all to see, telling us they were having ‘an amazing’ time.  This is just one example I found out about – but there’s many more!

That’s just one reason I don’t go on Facebook as much any more.

 

 

 

The Visits

room-928653__3401

I’ve witnessed loved ones avoiding the death conversation with ill relatives who clearly want to talk about it. This poem portrays a situation where someone avoids such a conversation – and then it’s too late:

The Visits

PART 1

Oh it’s nice in here!

Could you look out some stuff?

The nurses are sincere

Things are getting tough…

Anything you’re needing?

I can now accept…

What’s that you’re reading?

There are things I’ve kept…

How’s your appetitive?

Could you get me a drink?

Did you sleep last night?

I’ve been having a think…

PART 2

Are you ok today?

I need to say…

You’re not going away!

It’s been a bad day….

You look pale

The pain’s worse.

You seem frail.

I’ll get the nurse.

Just you rest.

She’s distressed.

Please close the door

Please clear the floor

Is she asleep?

Beep

Beep

Beeeeeeeeep

.

Sometimes when someone has a terminal illness the last thing the family want is to talk about the practicalities. These days, we’re conditioned to think about people getting better and when they are at the stage of never getting better; people don’t always deal with it in the best way they can. We will all die at some stage – every one of us. It’s the one thing that is promised to us all and yet it’s one of the most common taboo subjects.

It wasn’t always like this. As Louisa Peacock of The Telegraph states ““In the late 19th century, the standard of life used to be much lower and people died much earlier. the average life expectancy was around 48 [by 1901]. Nowadays people can expect to live into the high 90s. In the Victorian era, people understood that they had little time left to live a life, and they confronted and talked about mortality, operations and medicine as people around them died. Now the lifespan has increased, people don’t talk about it.”

We’ve had two world wars since then and gradually people have avoided talking about death. This, along with a vastly increased life expectancy, has added to the terrifying prospect of conversations around death.

For more information on talking about death see the Dying Matters  website. Another perspective is that some people just don’t want to talk about their own impending death. My father-in-law didn’t want to and the general feeling is that we should take the ill persons’ lead on this.

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Sincere

Different Classes

windows-1234473_12801

 

In response to the daily word prompt tiny. *This more or less describes my past 20 years in 32 short lines.

Tiny town;

factory closedown.

The workers betrayed –

but the bills needing paid.

 

Child churning,

ambition burning.

Her chances snuffed out

by their damaging doubt.

 

Horses high –

shot down to die.

Get head out the clouds

‘cause we’re working class crowds.

 

Growing girl

lets her dreams unfurl.

Sails to the city,

to the bright and witty.

 

Oil rains

on platinum lanes.

Money for danger

but not gonna change her.

 

Snobs around –

they’re two for a pound.

Smirk at downtrodden

but conscience is sodden.

 

Then she’s back

on tiny town track.

Biggest house on the hill

but with local ill will.

 

She now knows

under different clothes;

rich and poor are the same –

they need someone to blame.

 

*Don’t think there’s any ill will, but it makes for a better story.