Monthly Archives: December 2012

Progeny

Half grown you

fit me end to end

legs, chest

heart and head

fall into the spaces

my body makes for you

still

This fierce love

has written me

made the striped

tiger skin

of my belly

The soft droop

of my eyes

The rise and fall

of my breasts

Now toys are gone

we play with words

but it is skin, blood

and bone

which

binds us

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Brilliant rarasaur makes me smile like a loon 😀

rarasaur

This set of doodles if for those that didn’t check into the my post, but still deserve kudos for being awesome and helping out with C4C!  I hope you enjoy!

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To mother nature…

nature-summer-wallpaper-300x225

A new year is soon to dawn. Bright and shiny as a magpie’s trove. From January, I can wave to April and the onset of spring. A cheery, yellow wave like a clutch of daffodils; a wave which pays homage to longer days and the promise of sunshine, bare feet and river swimming. These things sustain me when all else falls away: indomitable mother nature, who for all the tidal waves of rubbish and poison we throw at her continues to bless us. We defile our pretty nest, and still she feeds and shelters us. She really is the best of women. I try to take my cues from her where I can.

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Wonderful Team Member Readership Award

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Thanks to lovely Rarasaur for nominating me for this award: find her, and the other nominees here.

So here is what WTMRA winner must do as a recipient of this award:

  • Display the logo on his/her post/page and/or sidebar
  • The Nominee must finish this sentence and post: ”A Great reader is…”
  • Nominate 4 readers they appreciate over a period of 7 days (1 week) – this can be done at any rate during the week. It can be ALL on one day or a few on one day and a few on another day, etc., naming his or her nominees on a post or on posts during the 1 week period.
  • The Nominee shall make these rules, or amended rules, keeping to the spirit of the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award, known to each reader s/he nominates.

So what makes a great reader?

A great reader is a child poring over the captions in a picture book, sounding out the phonemes with a new speech bubble of a mouth, forming the ‘o’ in Cheerios, the ‘c’ in ‘c-a-t’ and the kicking ‘k’ in kicking  because this is where it all begins for me, you and everyone who understands that words shape us, make us, take us to places where planes do not land and trains cannot travail…

It still feels a little odd to be nominating, or receiving awards: I’m so new to this and have only a small band of followers, but I’m going to go for it this time! So, here goes….
1) I’d like to nominate Danuiseult for her beautifully readable autobiopsy, which often makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

2) For making me laugh a lot, and having a post entitled ‘Thinking is hard: lets have bad sex’ the wonderful Teeny Bikini and her jigglybits

3) A wordsmith who inspires me to read, and write, daily: susanldaniels

4) And finally, because I am utterly, utterly fearless and don’t give a damn if he shouts at me because he’s brilliant, the one and only panda- with- attitude, that’s right folks, Ruleofstupid (I’m not doing this for you stupid, it’s for me and I mean it)

So, there we are, I’m done….it’s up to you what you do with it: you can enjoy it, ignore it, whatever but I’ve enjoyed writing this post and like getting awards. Not because they massage my ego, but because they make me feel part of something wonderful: the big, shiny blogosphere, which is often easier to be in than the real world and a darn sight friendlier. Peace and love to all…from FatW

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Silence

Read the silence like a sheet of Braille

Thick and dense enough to touch

Fumble fondle over ridge and plane

Miles of endless static hush


Thick and dense enough to touch

Your hands a phantom cavalcade

Miles of endless static hush

Dim and darken; mute and fade


Your hands a phantom cavalcade

Flower and sink like earthy roots

Dim and darken; mute and fade

Remote and indehiscent fruits


This is my first effort at a pantoum. Thanks you Susan L Daniels for her encouragement and this poem which provided the inspiration and is much, much better than mine!

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Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children

The movie The Crow, contains one of the most moving lines about the mother-child relationship I have ever heard: ‘Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children’.

I think of this statement often at the moment, as I watch my eldest child, who is legally an adult, but emotionally a baby, make a mess of her life. When she fell over as a toddler, I picked her up, patched up her baddies, cuddled her and set her back down again, free to explore and play until she should fall again: I still do this, but her falls are potentially more dangerous, her baddies have the potential to scar in different, deeper, more painful and long lasting ways. Back then, I set the limits of her universe: now, I can be here to pick her up, but when I set her down again she must make her own limits.

Two days ago we had a painful, heart wrenching conversation, in which I told her that I cannot keep picking her up because I am at the limits of my own mental and physical strength and her current behaviour is threatening the health and welfare of her much younger sibling. I am to all intents and purposes a single mum, who works full time to support her family: the analogy I shared with her was that I often feel as though I am swimming across a deep lake with her and her brother on my back and that her flailing and splashing about threatens to drown us all. I told her that if this continues, I will have no choice but to take her brother and swim away, even though it will break my heart. She looked me in the eye and said ‘if you do that I will drown mum’. I know that this is true, but the only alternative is that we all drown and I simply will not let this happen. I told her this. She cried. I cried. She made me promises that I knew would be broken the very next day: I was right.

Someone very wise once told me that teenagers try to destroy their parents and it is their parents’ job not to let them. I can only pray that she is right and that in setting the hardest and most final of boundaries, the only one, in fact, that I have left at my disposal, I might somehow be able to keep my daughter safe, just like I did when she was a toddler. This poem is a little prayer, just for her:

Remember when

My hands were your nest

Stroking wisps of natal down

Turning the dead of night

Into a lactescent

Snow -white feast

Remember when

You landed

Under the full moon

Of my eyes

And took your

First steps towards

Arms as wide

As the sky

My love

The invisible

Intact umbilical

Is longer than

Any road away from here

Stronger than any

Harm which you

May do yourself

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Find us

And so we join

Like shards of broken pottery

To make a whole but

Clumsy Frankenstein

And lumber towards the world

With good intentions

Breaking everything we touch

Find us

Clinging together in the wreckage we have made

Like survivors of some terrible plane crash

Who must eat each other or die

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