Towards Troubled Waters.

 

When I was loved by you I knew who I was

When I was loved by you the sun shone daily

And I could feel the warmth on my face

And there was a seductive security in your firm embrace.

 

When I was loved by you I could rest a while

When I was loved by you I could close my eyes

And hear your gentle breath through my restless slumber

In my turbid life you were my shelter and human anchor.

 

Now I am lost at sea, tossed and torn on turbulent tides

And you have left me for the love of another

Eyes wide open and sleep eludes me now.

 

Whose pillow will support my weary head

As I sail away from the safe shelter of your love

I stow the anchor slowly as the windlass grinds to a halt.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This was written for d’Verse where Bjorn challenged us to write an Italian sonnet. I have no idea if this lives up to what I understood of the form but I did give it a go. The image was from Wikimedia and labeled for reuse.

carl_bille_-_et_skib_pc3a5_et_stormfuldt_hav

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shadows of yesterday, promises of tomorrow.

Today we took my Dad’s caravan to Kirkudbright for him. As this year has progressed I have learned to accept that it isn’t about the wealth we have or the belongings that we possess but about the moments we share with the people that we love.

Mum passed away in August 2008, she is probably still giving someone grief up there for how untimely that was at 64, as she had worked all her life and never got to draw her pension. I had emigrated to New Zealand in 2006 with my husband and the girls, and got stuck with our property falling into negative equity following the global recession and no hope of returning to the UK, and I didn’t even make it home for the funeral.

My sister held everything together. She helped Dad and sorted affairs and then continued to shoulder the weight of Dad’s illness. He was diagnosed with cancer less than six months after mum’s passing and the weight loss that we had put down to grief was actually the cancer eating away at him. He had some major surgery to remove a lung and was given fairly low odds of survival, but survive he did, and whilst he was unable to receive any chemotherapy, he was too ill and frail, he slowly healed and recovered. He was never really able to return to being an active solo captain on his boat without his beloved bosun and the years rolled by until in 2011 he got his beloved Emma dog. He then grew from strength to strength and got his first camper van in 2013, followed by an upgrade in 2015. In 2016 finally after seven years, we managed to sell our house in NZ and we returned home at the beginning of 2017.

Fast forward to today and the latest roadtrip as we were able to drive Dad’s newly acquired caravan north to Kirkudbright for him. It is these moments that make all the complexities and turmoil of the last decade somewhat worthwhile.

Driving to Kirkudbright itself was a trip down memory lane, we often went there camping as a family when we were younger, as Dad had lived there as a child. Ironically Galloway had also been a favourite haunt of my husband’s family. My husband and I honeymooned for 2 nights along the same Galloway route at the Isle of Whithorn in 1994, the car breaking down in Dumfries on the way, robbing us of a night’s money. We then camped and visited Dumfries and Galloway fairly regularly in our early marriage even partying on down for Hogmany in Portpatrick with friends on numerous occasions. Emily learned a lot on the journey northward. Every name on every road sign brought back some distant memory and now there was a new excitement as what we were embarking on was a new adventure, and a new opportunity to create new memories both for and with Dad.

Our lives can and do change so rapidly. It is important to treasure and cherish each moment that is of meaning and see it for its true value and worth especially when we live in troubling times where values seem to be challenged and dropped so readily and with such ease.

I was glad to be able to have today. I hope there will be many more days like today.

It was a day full of promise. It took a long time to get here but we got here in the end.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Are you going away with no word of farewell?

 

Mother

Died suddenly

Bereft beyond belief

I mourn her untimely passing

Tears shed

 

Still night

Stars beguile me with their beauty

My heartfelt loss immense

Grief engulfs me

Silence.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics. It is a reverse cinquain? My song choice was Tom Paxton. “The last thing on my mind”.

Tom Paxton

It’s a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand

It will soon be the anniversary, she passed away in 2008, suddenly without saying goodbye, she was 64, and I was on the other side of the world and didn’t even get home for the funeral. We all feel it still. She was my mum.

 

Dreams lie lost amid the sands…

Lazy Sunday.

Somewhere between the sea and the sky,

my dreams fly free.

 

They rise and fall

on the gentle breeze

beyond the heat haze on the horizon.

 

My spirit with the seagull

soaring and then stalls suddenly,

shattered upon the rocks of reason.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is my quadrille for d’Verse based on “dream”. The images were from our lazy Sunday afternoon walk yesterday. The sky was endless, the birds were amazing. In the distance you can see the sea windmills, they looked like they were dancing just above the horizon.

Wondering about the ripple effect…

Please forgive me for I do not normally enter the murky waters of the global political arena but this week has made me shudder to the core and I wonder if we can ever truly know the impact of these ripples across our world and I think that the words of Marcus Aurelius are important, sometimes these ripples can go beyond these moments of existence in which we find ourselves and impact forever on those future generations that have not yet even been born. I wonder when and how power is somehow more important than commons sense and responsibility.

The word rhetoric is bandied about across the airwaves by high stakes/high impact global media but the word rhetoric means something akin to- the art of effective or persuasive speaking or writing, and implies use of persuasive speaking and writing techniques. I hardly think that verbal spats via twitter can be classed as rhetoric when the persuasion comes from the immediacy and availability rather than the subtle and persuasive use of the actual spoken word. The words I have heard seem to be verging on aggression and antagonism and have been blunt and course. Perhaps this is a new form of rhetoric.

What happened to accountability and responsibility here?  Are our global futures to be suspended in the wake of the ripples of power hungry egotistical leaders with no care for the long term global impact of the fall-out from this folly?

©Alison Jean Hankinson

The image is my own. It is Te Matau a Pohe bridge in Whangarei. Perhaps we are at a bridge. Fancy a game of Pooh sticks…see who wins?

Dolores desires…

800px-smooth_miniature_dachshund_puppy

Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dachshund to be precise. It would wibble-wobble down the street, and always be at her side.

Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dutiful and loyal pedigree. It would sleep contentedly on her bed at night, in return, she would love it unconditionally.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

I wrote this for Ellen.

The image is from wikimedia and is for re-use in the public domain.