Only a night from old to new (for Carry on Tuesday)

The rain was running down the kitchen window like liquid threads unwinding from a heavenly spool. Behind this watery curtain a grey November morning started unfolding its dim light, hardly managing to brighten up the darkness of the previous night. The cup of coffee in her hands had gone cold while she had been losing herself in the rain and her thoughts. Like a deep sea diver she had to take a few minutes before surfacing from the depths and re-enter the world above water. She vaguely remembered her husband kissing her goodbye before hasting out of the door, like always in a rush with no time for breakfast and a client already waiting. No further mention of the conversation they’d had last night. For him no big deal, nothing left to say. In fact, “Grow up and stop being silly.” was all he had to say when she had finally opened up, released her deepest fears, hoping that he might save her, that together they might be able to change but that hope was now gone, drowned in the relentless rain of the night and her tears, that she had cried secretly after he had gone asleep. Now she just felt empty and washed out. She looked at the clock on the opposite wall, a horrible thing he had bought when they moved in, efficient and sterile like the kind they have in offices and hospitals, and realised that she was meant to be at work 5 minutes ago. Slowly she raised herself from the chair and went to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked tired and red but just behind their dead stare she could make out a faint glimmer of their old sparkle. She started running herself a bath and after a long soak she felt cleansed and renewed. Like dead skin cells she had scrubbed off all memory of this life and walked out the door.

What I want (inspired by We write poems)

I want the latest fashion

And lots of new books

Nice jewellery and perfume

Plus fabulous looks

A house by the sea

And comfortable wealth

No worries to think of

And everlasting health

Okay, I’m just kidding

Though sometimes it’s true

I run around wanting

Stupid things, have no clue

But honestly, if you ask me

If I had just one shot

I want to stop wanting

And be content with my lot

December (inspired by Sunday Scibblings)

Every year in December

I’m stopped in my flow

And ask myself the question

Where did this year go?

Time seems to be racing

I run behind or ahead

But every year in December

It suddenly stops dead

And while watching the snowflakes

A thought dawns on me

It’s time to stop running

And start trying to be

Triumphant (inspired by Writer's Island)

Triumphant is one

Who has realised clearly

True nature of all

The best perfume (for Poets United)

You can try and bottle up

The finest aromas

Mix it with the scent

Of high diplomas

Add the fragrance

Of money and success 

But money cannot buy

The beautiful smell

Of a life lived fully

A life lived well

The pursuit of happiness (for We Write Poems)

Oh how to catch

Such an elusive creature

If you don’t know

What it looks like

Can’t describe

A single feature

Wouldn’t recognise it

If it bit you on the arse

In some cases

The pursuit of happiness

Seems like a farce

Wondrous morning (for Writer's Island)

The station's little coffee shop
Was open today
It never had been before
Wondrous it was
Covered in pictures
Of old movie stars
Marilyn Monroe
Frank Sinatra
James Dean
Many I didn't even know by name
And when after he served me
The owner started playing
An old record of his
"Do you whisper to an angel
or do you just say I love you?"
The dawning morning transformed
Into a scene out of time
And when the eyes of a stranger
Met mine
I was bewitched
Just for a second.

Winter podginess

It’s not the season

For a skinny body

Even my biggest jeans

Think I’m too podgy

I’m turning into the object

Of my food desire

Muffins spring to mind

The mirror’s no liar

But whenever I’m naked

The mirror’s my friend

I quite like my new curves

Think I’m bang on trend

My hubby’s delighted

And praises my bits

Loves the big bum

As well as my tits

So I ask myself why

I want to be thinner

Seems like this new shape

Is clearly a winner

Maybe it’s time

To change my focus

The clothes are the problem

Hocus-pocus

Friendship

I don’t think it’s my role

To tell you what you want to hear

To agree with everything you do

To cheer you on

When I see you aiming for disaster

Most people wouldn’t take the risk

To offend you

By telling you the truth

They wouldn’t challenge you

Like I do

I understand

That sometimes

It’s about just being there

To pick up the pieces

But other times

I would like to stop you

From going to pieces

In the first place

Forgiveness (inspired by Poets United)

Bathing in a pool

Of guilt and regret

The last words of a fool

Melodiously said

Could have

Would have

Should have

Could have learned

To accept

Would have

Given respect

To the fact

That we all make mistakes

And the past has long gone

Should have tried not to be

The fool in that song

Confessions of a control freak

My name is Dani and I’m a control freak. Oh yes and I’m sure if you met me in person you’d also soon come to that conclusion. A lot of people I met this year did and thankfully they told me so. Obviously, I didn’t like that at first. It’s easy to ignore feedback like that if your husband tells you so (because all women are control freaks compared to men) but alas I had to seriously investigate these allegations – turned out, it’s true.

So at the beginning of summer, after some reflection, I came to the conclusion that the need to control comes from fear and that I needed to face my fears. So I did. Amongst other things I skinny dipped into the Thames near Oxford from a little boat my husband and I hired: I discovered that the Thames water is still freezing cold in May and that being covered in sunscreen doesn’t help a swift escape back into a plastic boat. I might have traumatised some locals that were driving past on their bikes as well but hey, I was facing my fears and I'd like to think I helped them too.

Later this summer I felt like there’s something deeper going on, that somehow I’m not really expressing myself or living to my full potential and might actually try to control a part of myself that I’m scared to let out. So one Sunday morning while sharing a bath with my husband I burst into tears telling him that he just didn’t understand what I was going through. When he requested me to elaborate, all I could say (in a very dramatic fashion!) was: "I need to grow my wings!" and he said: “Ah... so you don’t just want to be a monkey (he calls me that sometimes) but a FLYING monkey!” Amidst all the tears I laughed out loud and agreed. My Alter Ego was created. The next day I started writing my blog.

Needless to say that the controlling behaviour hasn’t just disappeared but in little baby steps I've done more things that I never did before and started to do other things differently.

Last month I started thinking a lot about letting go and learning to enjoy being lazy and boy did I get into that one! It was like discovering a new drug. Finally I allow myself to just do what takes my fancy and I have been reading and writing to my heart’s content. It’s been manure for my blossoming creativity. Of course, there have been downsides: our flat is a mess and hasn’t been cleaned properly for over a month now (it normally gets an over-all clean at least every two weeks), I’m way behind with an assignment for my Uni course (in fact I haven’t even started) and it is due in next week, my clothes are getting too tight (and I choose to think that someone secretly takes them in at night) and I’m still sitting here writing this in my dressing gown at lunchtime.

Do I feel bad? Yes, sometimes. When the old addicted voice in my head says: “Go on, get a grip, you know you want to.” But you know what? Maybe I’ll just have to wing it – isn’t that what wings are for?

Rollercoaster love (inspired by Carry on Tuesdays)

Through a rollercoaster

Of joy and despair

From seemingly grounded

To up in the air

Our relationship always

Continues to move

And therefore it really

Never loses its groove

I hope it will never

Get boring or lame

But always be exciting

And never the same

For change is the secret

And we’re the living proof

That the course of true love

Never runs smooth

Dreamworld

In between day and night

When things quiet down

Shadows come to light

And something emerges

From the dark abyss

Of oblivious functioning

Sensing something's amiss

In all this

That what I’m led to believe

Can’t be right

That somehow I’ve lost sight

Of the point, the purpose, the goal

There’s no soul

In this life

Lived according to conventions

And I wonder

Where I’ve been all day

For I wasn’t really here

In the now

And somehow

Feel like losing myself

In a dream world

Where days seamlessly

Go from one to the next

Without me

The quest (inspired by Writer's Island)

Life seems at times

Like a never-ending quest

An adventure filled chase

After a treasure chest

But every time we get where

The treasure’s meant to be

We just find another map

That guides our destiny

There’s never fulfilment

To be found in that chest

Only fuel for more hunting

And I start to detest

Do you think I am stupid

Or are you taking the mick

I quit this stupid game

It’s making me sick

Instead I will happily

Start to enjoy

Dolce far niente

Oh what a joy!