Depression-never give up hope.

Destructive tendencies overshadow joy

Empty heart and emotionless void

Piercing silence and perpetual loneliness

Replaces peace and solitude.

Even in our darkest hours we seek the light.

 

Sustain our strength with firm resolve

Support each other with promises new

In higher spirits soar above the stigma and the shame

Overcome the numbness.

Never give up on tomorrow

©Alison Jean Hankinson

At d’Verse Frank challenged us to create an acrostic, and this is tonight’s offering, I might have another later, because he introduced me to some other styles and I might have a go at one of them.

I took the photos tonight down on the beach, it was a beautiful late summer dusk, I wanted to catch the seagull soaring to represent the spirit and hope at the end of the acrostic, they soar too fast and my hands are not steady enough…but I was happy with the two I managed to capture for here. This is what I do to uplift my spirit.

On the edge.

moorland_above_attadale_-_geograph-org-uk_-_594916

October gold rolled down across the valley

Set fire to the moorland putrefied the summer roses

Cut the Lifeline.

 

I somnambulist walked the moors, saw the hues

Tasted the mists, breathed the rancid air- embraced it in my lungs

I welcomed the ritual of the seasons, I had no fear of death

 

Death is nothing to be afraid of my friend, see it not as the end, merely as the beginning.

Strange voices whispering through the boughs of an ash-dead spruce

Had October gold severed my lifeline.

 

Yea though I walk- first it was a voice whistled on the wind

And the valley of death come unto me

the voice strengthened until it became a choir of heavenly angels

Fear not thy destiny-lay down the misted shroud that marks the path to the golden sepulchre.

 

Stop the voices I cried in terror

Stop the voices! Stop the Voices

I am too young to die

 

I have no staff to guide me through this cavern of darkness.

I shall not succumb to my fate- Give back to me

The light of life.

 

The hands that first betrayed me-

The human hands that cut the cord at birth

The hands reached out to embrace me.

I clung to the naked flesh and was received.

 

The breeze softened for a moment

The hypnotic trance was broken

October passed swiftly over the valley

And my destiny was fulfilled.

 

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

Image from Wikimedia-  Title: Moorland above Attadale With Lochcarron across the loch, left.  By Toby Speight

http://www.geograph.org.uk/profile/608

For d’Verse (d’Verse expressionism )  meeting the bar an attempt at expressionism? Bjorn stated “The simplest and most effective way to define expressionism is that you present the world in a totally subjective perspective. Expressionist artists sought to express the meaning of emotional experience rather than physical reality.”

So I have revisited something I wrote many years ago and attempted to do this.

 

 

 

Christmas Voices

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I think this is a bit of trial and error…I wanted to create some kind of advent calendar in “writings”…. so this I will add to, and I am going to say the inspiration was from Gemma, my visits to Rimu Park from d’verse  openlinknight-185. It asked for a poem, but I hope that I can do 24 that will all become one if that makes sense.

Rimu Park is the retirement home and as I visit I often learn new things about both the residents and my own outlook on life. I love Christmas dearly and I think I want to demonstrate through the full piece that it means different things to different people at different points in their lives. Whilst it can be a time of family and of love and sharing it can also be a time of loneliness and grief not just for people loved and lost but also for Christmas’ past.

December 1st. The Optimist

Christmas lights twinkle

Full of festive hopefulness

Heartaches falter fast

 

December 2nd. The Sage

Shadows and sorrows

Embers echo-Christmas past

Silent separation

 

December 3rd. The Giver

Secret Santa gifts

Friendly fun festivities

Given from my heart

 

December 4th. The Abandoned

You left without saying goodbye

My spirit was broken

Mistletoe mocks

 

December 5th. The Charlatan

Love was lacklustre

Was the food mixer the gift

To bring severance

 

Dec 6 and 7. The rector and his wife

In the beginning

Was the word and the word was

Pray for us sinners

 

We gave all we had

There was nothing left to give

God took it all

 

Dec 8th. The Teacher

Christingle service

Carol singing in the snow

Childrens faces glow

 

 

Alison Jean Hankinson