Bronchiecstasis, Daily Life, Lung condition, Poem, Writer's Blog

The Time is not Right

We’ve fought for years, but silently,

Accusations they have flown,

To and fro relentlessly,

But it’s still not time to let you go.

***

My hackles up, the anger flows,

You’ve often made me mad,

But in the end, you’ve always been,

The best, along with dear old Dad.

***

You’ve not been well for many years,

The illness, it’s quite rare,

Taking you to its lowest depths,

Sometimes it seems you’re barely there.

***

You’ve fought this hard, and still today,

Your strength has been quite stoic,

You sometimes need to gripe and moan,

In my eyes you have been quite heroic.

***

The cough has been relentless, yet

The worst was still to come,

Your lungs are shot to pieces now,

This would have ended more than some.

***

The days drag by, you dread to wake,

Each morning brings such fear,

Will this be the worst one yet,

Each day, each week, each month and year?

***

The interventions came and went,

With drugs and surgeries,

The vicious circle damaging,

Your poorly veins and arteries.

***

The risks are high, this latest try,

But try, we must continue,

For if we stop, it takes it course,

The time’s not right, you’re feeling blue.

***

It can’t go on, we’re all aware,

Chances, they now are few,

We won’t give up, we still have hope,

We’re far from ready to be losing you.

***

So, soldier on, please let them do,

Whatever they think is best,

Let’s face the risks, be strong and bold,

More time with you, we will be blessed.

***

 

Bronchiecstasis, Daily Life, Kite flying, Poem, Writer's Blog

Should be Sleeping

I wonder why I’m here, awake,

It’s two thirty in the morning,

I’ll be tired for sure, when daybreak comes,

Certain I will be yawning.

***

My head is fillled with many things,

My mind a whirl of thoughts,

Drowning in a pool of many fears,

Now’s the time for my head to sort.

***

Sleep will not come, I toss and turn,

Until my husband stirs,

We make a drink, open our phones,

And chat until sleep reoccurs.

***

He scrolls through kites, accessories,

(They would send me to sleep),

I write some rhyming verse and then,

Write down fears my head wants to keep.

***

With mum so ill, my son astray,

My darkest fears seem real,

There’s nothing much for me to do,

Some things won’t change, I cannot heal.

***

Time passes by, it’s oh so slow,

My fears won’t leave, won’t go away,

The simple act of writing down,

Frees me from them ’til break of day.

***

Sleep beckons now, the light will fade,

Wakefulness turns into sleep,

A few short hours will pass me by,

The dreams aside, the day will sweep.

***

 

Bronchiecstasis, Daily Life, Lung condition, Norfolk and Norwich Hospital, Poem, Writer's Blog

Relief, no more

No more will self-hurting relieve me of pain,

No more can I ignore the not knowing,

No more a distraction, my head in the sand,

My fear coming true, my senses are reeling.

đź’ś

Where once before I could block out my cares,

Where once before I could simply pretend,

Where once before, there were options anew,

Limitations abound, I know this will end.

đź’ś

Gone are the times when they’d try something more,

Gone are the days, no more tests,

Gone are the trials, the ‘give it a go’s,

Exhausted, brick walls, they have done but their best.

đź’ś

No money could buy an alternative path,

No money could pave the way fairer,

No money can change an inevitable end,

The path now, the finale feels nearer.

đź’ś

What more can I do, can we do to relieve?

What more can be done, comfort givers?

What more now can those at the top change our game?

They can do nothing more, their hopes tiny slivers.

đź’ś

Fault cannot lie at the door of the healer,

Fault cannot lie at the door of the cross,

Fault cannot lie, now, with past misadventure,

Nobody at fault, all know impending loss.

đź’ś

Funny how sadness can free us from hate,

Funny how sadness can rewrite feelings past,

Funny how feelings can change in a heartbeat,

So much more so, when those beats near their last.

đź’śđź’ś

Daily Life, Poem, Writer's Blog

A Painless Ever After (;)

Viewing my body from a distant world,

The life all but ebbed, all that is fluid, gone,

A path I vowed never to walk again,

Abandoned, alone, my mind was changed.

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No more a heart beat, hopelessness reigning,

Gone is the heartbreak, enveloped in sadness,

Black hole enticing, its mystery draws me near,

Agonising, aimless, my tears no longer flow.

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Outcast by society, cut off from the world,

Loneliness my friend, my faithful ally,

Silent cries unheard, unheeded pleas,

Darkness, eternal rest or damnation.

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Calling my name, to white light, desperation,

Grasp at my hand, my mind to awaken,

Blackened souls retreat, forcefully gone,

Unconditional pain, your eyes disbelieving.

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Daily Life, Poem, Writer's Blog

What if…

What if…reality is all make believe?

What if…we have no purpose at all?

What if…we have no reason to grieve?

What if…none of this is real?

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What if…we live inside our own minds?

What if…our friends are only imagined?

What if…there is no sunshine to blind?

What if…none of this is real?

40109330-illustration-of-a-colorful-abstract-question-mark-geometric-design

What if…we invent our own child’s face?

What if…our existence is non-existent?

What if…our home land just isn’t a place?

What if…none of this is real?

40109330-illustration-of-a-colorful-abstract-question-mark-geometric-design

What if…we have not even a past?

What if…there is no future?

What if…there’s emptiness, a space so vast?

What if…none of this is real?

40109330-illustration-of-a-colorful-abstract-question-mark-geometric-design

What if… there is no place to call Hell?

What if… there is, then, no heaven?

What if…our head is the place that we dwell?

What if…none of this is real?

40109330-illustration-of-a-colorful-abstract-question-mark-geometric-design

What if…none of this is real?

What if…we have never been?

What if… none of this is real?

What, then, does this life mean?

40109330-illustration-of-a-colorful-abstract-question-mark-geometric-design