Mum’s last letter.

Handwriting didn’t come easily to me, my words tumbled out across the page as fast as my thoughts would carry them but with no time for neatness clarity or punctuation. Laborious lessons trying to perfect a precise clear-cut style between the lines, the endless lines, my sister’s handwriting remains the same as it was in those joined up lessons at school. Mine still resembles ducklings charging towards some azure blue lake with all the joy of momentum, joy and not a care in the world for how it looks to the rest of the world.

Her last letter, heaven only knows why she posted the parcels so early for Christmas, perhaps she knew. Her last act of love. She died on the Sunday half a world away and by Friday I held her last letter in my hand. Her writing cut through the void, the years the tears, the fears.

Precision and care

Her words carefully planted.

Snowdrops cut through snow.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Moo Indigo-the ballad of Doris and Flo.

We are the trailer cows

Feel free to have a browse

It’s so fine to have you near.

 

Whenever you are feeling low

Take a breath real slow

And know we are here to cheer.

 

We munch and chew our cud

Wherever we are stood

We have no worries or fear.

 

We like it by the trailer

From here we can see who mailed ya

And our presence brings you here.

 

We like to swish and moo

We’ll always make room for you

Just don’t stand too near our rear.

 

Moove over Duke-love from Doris and Flo…

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is intended to be fun. It was written for d’Verse poetics and inspired by the beautiful and emotive photography by Sharon Knight. This image was entitled Trailer Cows and was from https://sunearthsky.com/

We were given permission to borrow the images.

I liked all the images and would have enjoyed writing about many of them but this one captured my imagination the most. I was taken by the two cows, whom I named Doris and Flo.

 

Leap of faith

From stability and steadfast surety,

We left for uncharted waters

Certain that resilience, faith and hope

Would enable us to endure

And weather uncertainties, brave challenges and more

It turned out to be a leap of faith

And fearsome obstacles lurked behind every door.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for the first quadrille of the year at d’Verse. The leap was last year and I am hoping that this year we will be able to get a stronger foothold on this side…regroup consolidate…build…grow….heal….With love to you this New Year. Namaste.

 

 

Winter boogie-woogie

 

Starlings on the rooves

Hip-hop hopping, tip-tap tapping

Snow stomping flappy happy

Getting in the winter mood.

 

Fiery looking foxes putting on their groove

Foxtrotting through the frosty frozen fauna

Racing hastily through the forest

Working on their festive foxy moves

 

Red squirrels with dancing shoes

Snowy soft shoe shimmy shuffle

Acorn tapping troubadours

working the winter wonderland blues.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Getting the groove on for d’Verse...

 

The Invisible Worm…

Endo warrior.

Bravely fighting for breath somewhere between bloodbath

And deep painful chasm of menstrual despair

Adenomyosis crippling.

 

She took the apple from the tree

To set her free

Unaware of the invisible worm it carried deep inside.

 

It burrowed its way inside her,

It perforated her uterus

It wormed its way deep inside her pelvis.

And came to rest 3mm from her spine.

 

Mirena

Bayer’s little game-changer.

It changed her game forever.

 

Her hair fell out, her eyes bled,

Fevers ravaged her body

Her insides turned to poison.

And Arthritis set in.

 

The invisible worm

No crimson joy

It nearly did her life destroy.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This for d’verse where we were asked to use symbolism and I wanted to use “the invisible worm”.

Endometriosis and Adenomyosis blight the lives of many women. Unfortunately, the Mirena is another one of those medical catastrophes that were intended to give hope but for some caused irreparable and devastating damage and consequences.

The image was created by sammydavisdog on Flickr.

The Visit

He hung his cloak upon the hook

And snook into her room

He gave a welcome smile and then

His love lit up the room.

 

The visitor sat beside her as she slept

He smoothed her pain away

He gently mopped her fevered brow

And for her soul did pray.

 

The sunset glowing in the west

The day drew to a close

He took her tortured soul in hand

And exchanged it for a rose.

 

As morning sun lit up the room

Her family finally gathered

Her soul had passed across by now

Shared memories were all that mattered.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics.

P1060248

Someone had to do it…. Take 5.

Brubeck Blues

Sax to the beat

wilful wistful wily

Drifting down the street

Repeat.

 

Piano vamping

Blues scaling

E flat minor Brubeck stomping

Five four time, once more

Five four time.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

For d’Verse….TAKE 5…..

Image Wikimedia