I’m very aware that this is my second post today but I really wanted to share this before I went to sleep.
I’ve had a really long evening traveling back on the train from a lovely weekend away in York and Lancaster. I’m sure some of you do the same as me whilst on a long trip via public transport, and that’s to inadvertently catch snippets of people’s conversations and thus get a tiny peek into their lives.
Anyway, this was a little insight I came across tonight on the last leg of my journey. Hope you enjoy (or can at least relate):
the line between love & hate is so thin.
a deep stare that burns through the clothes on your boy’s back
a hateful push
a vicious word
a forceful kick
a head hung low
and tears falling
hit you where it hurts.
how thin this line of love & hate between a son and his father.
© LE Purse
24th August 2014
This is something I penned in York this weekend whilst people watching and drinking coffee. It first came to me the other day when Matt and I went to the park near his house. There’s a tyre swing I’ve wanted to try in ages and like the big kids we are we had a play on the park. He said to me that he realised how old he was when playing on the park, to which I replied: “This is the time to forget how old you are”.
Hope you enjoy:
The ka-thunk of the tyre propelling me backwards,
the clinking crashing of your keys abandoned on the grass,
the whir of the wire as you pull it back followed by the thump of 25 year old trainers climbing the wooden slope.
Your thoughts in motion as you come up with ideas to make this as fun as years ago.
The silent tremble of the springs under foot,
and the gentle squeak of friction as the climbing rope supports your long limbs.
And finally to that sky-propelling-eek-eek-eek-sounding-rubber-seated-beaut sitting in pride of place.
Your hand on my back and cries of joy ring out followed swiftly by the scraping of shoes on grass, to bring us back down to earth.
22nd August 2014
So my boyfriend’s (Matt) cat, Poppy, has had to have a trip to the vets this week. She’s fine but she’s not so pleased with the cone on her head and the fact that she’s not allowed out for the time being. This is a little comic number from her point of view. Hope you enjoy the silliness:
Only beds to lie upon and floors to scratch,
I thank thee not for putting me under house arrest.
You tickle my tummy and bribe me with treats
– how fickle you are if you think I’d fall for this.
This plastic you’ve placed around my neck to stop me from getting to that itch,
the door you’ve locked from stopping me have a good stretch.
Those birds I cry to
as my paws smear the glass to reach for their full fat breasts.
Instead I have this duck down duvet and cold wet meat – I could have the grass and soil, a branch or a fence.
you insist on my house arrest.
© LE Purse
19th August 2014
It has been a very long time since I attempted to write a Haiku, but here are three that came to me in that wakeful time before sleep and dreams care to descend whilst struggling to shake off my summer cold.
Go easy on their rough nature:
The sunshine spirals
roly polys and chammo
tea to drink, for me.
harbour and rainbow shaped clouds
settle on my crown.
Thump thump thump thump thump
Glug water, swallow the pills
Soothe iced tiger on.
© LE Purse
21st July 2014
This is a poem I penned a while back and feels appropriate to share now amidst the radio silence on Gaza.
A bottle of words
stopper firmly in place
each letter, each syllable
for fear of their actions.
through the green
in a spiral
reaching all corners of the room.
© LE Purse
I sometimes miss the power of belief that comes only so naturally to children. Not only the belief in the magical world, but also the belief in the world we live in and in ourselves. I lacked a serious amount of self belief today in a situation that may well have cost me a position that could change my life.
This lack of self belief made me yearn for those days when nothing was impossible and reflect upon how the world of magic and belief is often reserved, in the adult world, for artists alone; how fortunate then that I count myself as being one.
Hope you enjoy this alternative bit tid bit:
Fairy wings stick to my cheek and the sandman’s shiny gold dust
is smeared across my head for all to see
whilst a tiny rotting baby tooth is still tucked under my pillow.
Rudolph’s carrot is sliced and diced whilst Santa’s minced pies star in their own ecosystem of days gone by.
8 fingers crossed
1 magpie saluted;
no butter nor crush for you with all those petals depleted.
© LE Purse
18th June 2014