It’s 5.54am and I’m wide awake. Continue reading
Hi and welcome to the new bat cave. It’s with great sadness that I have to show you an empty cup and seat at the table today. My friend, work colleague and a great supporter of my work, has passed away. A gaping hole will be left in our school and our hearts at her loss. She was a true fighter, battling cancer and still putting others and her work first till the very end. There are few people you meet in life who show such strength and endurance beyond a normal human capacity – she was one of them.
So, as we sit together in the new bat cave, I propose a toast: to Rebecca. May we continue with even half the strength, motivation and love she shared with this world and change the lives of those around us for the better, just as she did.
They say, running away from your problems solves nothing. Well, I love to be different! Continue reading
Hello and welcome home. The kettle is boiling and I’ve stacked up some delicious pastries for our coffee morning. Why not go on through to the living room and take a look at the Christmas tree.
After another weekend of sickness bugs and the flu doing its round in our home, I’m really looking forward to the final week of school. Not only will my work be winding down but this is my last week of uni studies too before the Christmas break.
How has your term been? Have you found an increase in sickness in your home around this time of year?
Those who follow me on Facebook will know that our family suffered a great loss three weeks ago, which I feel now contributes to the low mood in our household and the slow healing process. It has been difficult and sometimes involves heart-breaking chats about death with my youngest sprog who is still spiralling from the loss of his best friend – the four-legged kind.
Filling that cavernous hole left by our beloved dog, Henry, we’ve decided to fill our Christmas with little events that will pick up our spirits. Planning a special family dinner and prepping for our traditional bake-off on Christmas Eve seems to have helped and the promise of a new plan for the new year has the family focused towards the future.
What has caught us all by surprise are the cats – they’ve taken over the house! From sleeping in our bedroom to vocalising their every need, they’ve decided that us hoomans need to serve them and enjoy their presence in a way cats can only force you to endure. When they think we aren’t looking, they congregate on the landing and sit there like Stonehenge monoliths, silently engaging in cat conversations that end abruptly when they notice a hooman walking by. This circle of secret silence unnerves me and I do feel the balance of power slipping away from the two-legged members of the family! So, if you see little paws reaching for your knee, run!
On that note, I’d best let you escape our mad house before the cats rope you into cleaning their cat box of feeding them every few hours. Enjoy the festive season and do keep in touch.
Thanks for stopping by.
Crows huddle in their blackened shrouds
A treasured box of bones to behold
With fluttered wings they flounce and flow
Their lives tethered to stringed souls
Council leads the ghastly meet
The murder sing songs of fading remembrance
A requiem soliloquy so carefully laid
Words delivering life’s sweet vengeance
Wet beaks and muttered parochial verse
The only sustenance offered
As washed out eyes take in the scene
A memory of love once suffered
Lowly clouds gather above
Witness to one more ending
The ebb of life once fast and free
To heaven or Hades, now sending
Copyright held by Eloise De Sousa (2017)
I may not be a Book Thief
As I watch the bloodied sands
Of time connecting destiny
To the evil of man,
A Girl On A Train may be the last face
I see this mournful night.
As we bid farewell to the children,
Their future now in hindsight,
A wishful dream of peace lays derelict
As I count the grains and cry.
I still feel an overwhelming sense of loss when I hear this song, and I feel like crying. But then I remember how much you loved this song and the way you smiled when it played.
I still miss you so,
It may only be six months,
But I miss you more
Time has given no comfort
I may smile and play
Laugh all day
But I still miss you so.
Now that you’ve gone
All the memories
Fights we’ve lost and won
Happy games we played
The children have grown
And my heart still groans
Because I still miss you so.
Special days, like anniversaries
And your birthday, don’t forget Christmas
As I plan each day, I pause to say
How Mum would have loved
Each of these moments
And I still miss you so.
My tears still fall on the inside
There’s no time to stall in this busy hive
So I move along and hum your favourite songs
Thinking of your smile, your jokes and wicked humour
The way you riled me so easily and we’d knock heads
No-one’s there to fill me with dread and laughter
So I still miss you so.
Good-bye my pretty Bird,
Fly away free
Never mind the tears
They’re not for you, but for me.
Good-bye my golden friend
The one who drives me mad
Even now I smile at memories
That share my life with you, making me glad.
Good-bye our precious grandmother
The children loved you a tonne
I told them when I came home
You gave me the last touch
So the game continues on!
Good-bye my pretty little bird
Death has collected you at a young age
How peacefully you left us
To say farewell to your empty cage.
RIP Mum 11/12/1944 – 25/04/2015
Copyright Eloise De Sousa (2015).
Today is the second week anniversary of the flight of my little bird. I am caught in an emotional trap. I am nervous as I set about putting together the playlist for her wake. In my hand I nurse a brandy and coke, my father’s drink. In my head I spin the songs that I will play for my little bird.
My Saturday night confession: I hate crying. I don’t do crying unless someone opens that ridiculous door and allows the little crybaby inside me to escape. In the deepest, darkest catacombs of my mind there are very few opportunities to escape, but once in a blue moon a little bugger of a crybaby escapes.
Tonight my mind is on high alert. One of those little crybabies has escaped. So, to distract the escapee those little people who live in my head have decided to make a playlist. It isn’t possible to be sad when you’re listening to a good playlist. I’d like to share the torment with the little people who live inside in your head.
Who said I wasn’t a caring, sharing, giving person?!
So here goes. Get ready to sing along, and to dance when the moment takes you.
Tonight, I present to you, for your pleasure and mine, my playlist for my mum, my little bird, who escaped her cage and flew away. She is happy now, I know, but please share my songs and my tears.
I will close this playlist with yet another Deep Purple song, which just seems right for the moment,
I could go on adding more superb songs right through the night, but I am going to leave it there for now. What one song would you add to my playlist for my little bird?
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Poetry about Life, Love, Music by Walt Page, The Tennessee Poet
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Life is a broadway musical and everyday is a song. These are mine manifested as poetry.
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