You are beautiful.

You are perfect just the way you are.

Every blemish is a mark of a wish or a milestone

That was part of your life and has meaning.

 

We wear our scars like jewellery

Ornate adornments of battles we have fought and sufferings we have silenced.

Loves we have lost, dreams that lay smashed at the feet of the soul-less.

 

You are perfect just the way you are-

So wear your skin with pride, it is your life’s canvas,

And your story unfolds with every step forward and every glance back towards the setting sun.

© Alison Jean Hankinson

this is for napowrimo Day 20. It is for my girls. With all my love. Mumma. XXXXX

Zoo 2017 (137).JPG

The Doomsday clock ticks on…

1984 at BRGS

Nervous of a nihilistic Orwellian disaster,

and the truth was the clock was sitting at three minutes to Midnight.

 

The eighties was bigger and better than it had ever been before

The ra-ra skirts and Club Tropicana

Were our own way of shaking off the pervasive doom of the previous decade,

Punctuated by strikes, unrest, fuel shortages and the three day week.

 

But the Cold war raged and the doomsday clock ticked on.

Disturbed by the dystopian nightmare of the nuclear propaganda machine.

Is this the return of the nightmare that was? What time is it Mr Wolf?

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

A couple of added words but for napowrimo day 19 we were challenged to write an erasure poem, I wrote the piece of prose earlier in the week and have used it to create the poem.

 

 

Banal bleatings from the bleughside.

I think I have a cold

My head feels rather hot

Whenever I blow my nose

There is yucky slime green snot.

 

It isn’t what I’d planned

For my poem and ode today

I guess I’ve made a rhyme

In a rather odious way.

 

I need to see the doctor

To put my ails on hold

Before this horrid virus

Does firmly take its toll.

 

My sinus are infected

My ears are hurting too

I think my dratted cold

May actually be the flu.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

All I can muster on Day 18 of Napowrimo….

Pass the tissues please…

In the space between……

I heard your voice

You sounded distant, a far cry in a deserted hall

Somewhere beyond the silent space that I occupy.

 

You are on the tip of my tongue

A familiar sound, an enunciated vowel

More than a cursory utterance of love.

 

In my dreams my arms reach out to embrace you.

I catch a glimpse of you as the shadows recede and the sun filters in through the shutters

But you have already left, and all I have is the empty space that you once occupied.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

For Day 14 of napowrimo.

With love to all. May you have peace in your hearts and compassion in your soul.

Camping in Spring.

Zip me up

Snug as a bug in a rug

Raindrops on the roof

I revel in the sounds and smells of a spring storm

Lightning, thunder puts slumber asunder

Wind roars above

Sleeping bag saves me

I hide deep within

All zipped up.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse quadrille. The challenge was Zip.

The caravan before the rain!

The legacy.

One day this will all be yours my son

When my bones are wearied and my work is done

Until that day I will share with thee

All my wordly goods and hospitality.

 

I looked across the garden lawn

Each rock and boulder, each tree and flower forlorn

Planted and placed by this loving pair

With whom I had been fortunate my life to share.

 

She had passed away in early Spring

A moonless night she earned her wings

His saddened eyes then lost their light

She had been his diamond bright.

 

He carried on though his despair was clear

Determined to spend more time with those he held dear

With his estranged family he made his peace

He shared his stories of the past and his frustrations ceased.

 

The autumn came the nights were cold

His desire to die took a stronger hold.

The clock stopped at ten past three

For whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for Day 9 of Napowrimo

 

 

 

Basking in the boundless light of thy bitter love.

Be still my beating heart

In this boundless light I bask

In his bountiful love I bear witness

I wear love’s malleable mask.

 

Be still my beating heart

For fear of battles feigned in vain

And swordsman on his shining steed

Did my fragile heart reclaim.

 

Be still my beating heart

For he doth love another

And all the magic in the world

Will not ease my slumber.

 

Be still my beating heart

I must hide my shame and guilt

Give me strength grace and fortitude

And let my broken dreams be rebuilt.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for napowrimo Day 8, the prompt was to write in the spirit of Shelley, which was perhaps a bit challenging at 7am, anyway this is as much in the spirit of Shelley as I can muster.

The image is of St George…I imagine this to be the fair damsel in distress once the rose petals have faded.

It was in the public domain on wikimedia-  attributed to circle of Lucas Cranach the Elder [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons