A Tribute to Emily Dickinson

“Two worlds, like audiences, disperse And leave the soul alone”.

Emily Dickinson, 1830 – 1886

 

She often wondered that when she died, everything she’d ever written would be published.  She did compare herself to Emily Dickinson, but unfortunately she did not possess her beauty or her solitude.  She longed for people to enjoy what ever crazy thoughts she chose to embark on, and she was desperate to be able to express herself so that she may be understood.  She wrote for her children, her grandchildren and her great-grand children, so they may remember her and remember the moment she lived in.

 

My Yearning

 

There is a vague distance between us,

Yet an immense familiarity.

 

There is a particular fondness over us,

Yet an intense feeling of hate.

 

There is an imperfect superficiality,

Yet an unknown depth.

 

There is a blurred recollection of love,

Yet a want of cuddles.

 

There is a lack of feeling,

Yet an abundance of memories.

 

There is a husband,

but no mother-in-law.

 

 There is a boy and a girl,

Yet an absent nanny.

 

There is a bay to visit,

Yet there’s nowhere to stay.

 

There is a gap,

Yet there is no gateway.

 

 

Standing Female Pregnant

A person relinquishes their seat on the bus, for another more in need Childcare adapts to be a well paid professionalism There is a consciousness that Revlon and L’Oreal do not possess our beauty Fatigue becomes less and a 50 hour week becomes a 35 hour week Death is survival, death is devastating, it’s perception becomes universal Consumers consume less, water is free from nitrates, and washing powder is free from non-ionic surfactants Supermarket trolleys travel in a straight line; parent only parking is used by parents only School dinners are nutritious; my five year old remembers what he ate for lunch at school The myth of the close family is exposed; my family learn to love again Global inequalities do not exist, understanding the suffering of watching your child starve to death Women do not send their sons to die, for their extreme beliefs Where everyone’s voice is listened to Breast feeding is easy Comas and fullstops do not matter

 

Whose utopia, yours? Or perhaps the person standing over there? It is my utopia, do I have the power to make change, or do you? 

A tear in the eye, beauty in the eye, the beholder beholds A mother’s mother, all grown up, still the child.

Still the born, a journey of pain, it can be good, you can listen.

Can you speak?

Speak you can.

You can speak.

I have spoken through my tears, I have spoken through my pain, I have spoken through my words, and I have spoken for you to hear.

 

Don’t Do Depression

Now you are 40 your life can begin

Half way through don’t take to the gin.

 

It will make you cry and make you fat

Now you are 40 your life can bat.

 

From pillar to post from here to there

You still have the ability to be everywhere.

 

So make the most of feeling young

While you still can don’t get hung.

 

Up on being the big 40 your life is yours

Didn’t you know we all have flaws.

 

No matter how old your life can begin

Yours just has so don’t take to the gin.

 

Move through life with ease and pain

Just like you have been it was no strain.

 

Enjoy yourself and party the night through

When tomorrow arrives you’ll still feel the same you.

 

Letting Go

 

a voice on the path mimics her words
a crazy mother won’t let her daughter go
the path becomes winding
steep with sheer drops who will push her
as she struggles to the top
you walk alone on the path
you want to be near me
I strugged alone with no-one there with me
we all need a mother
a bossom to cry on
someone to love and make us feel needy
where will you search as you feel so alone
surrounded by people you don’t even know
a darkness looms as you create a brave face
smiling politely as asked in a small way
help me as I drown
my own sorrow consumes me
as I fall through the darkness
in to the shadows
you go to the doctors
he prescribes you a drug
all you want is to be loved
for your true love to express
how he really feels bound by his arms
and the sweet morning dew
where is your knight does
he really exist my dreams
take over as I fall in the darkness 
escaping reality is what I do best
a dead end job a goose bump or two
a handsome son who just won’t do
a beautiful daughter who feels so alone
so alone and doesn’t know what to do
escape from your ego in to your self
accept your journey and let go of the past