Taking A Break


This is just to let you all know I shall be taking a break from blogging for a while.  Quite a long break this year, I shall be back by mid January.   It’s not so long, only eleven weeks!!

There are things that need sorting – like my home, and my entire life!!  Also it gets busy this time of year, I’d like to feel a bit more present over the seasonal family gatherings, not constantly have too much on my mind.

I want to say a very big thank you to all of you who have continually returned to like and comment on my posts, I really appreciate so much your artistic support and friendship.  It’s been good to read your posts, learn some new things, have great conversations and fall into those occasional laughs – it really wouldn’t be the same without you! 

I’ve now completed my second year on here, can’t believe how quick two years have flown by.  Onwards and upwards to the third! :D

During my break I’m hoping to drop into Facebook a few times, I need to catch up with some on there, I just never seem to have enough time to do the Facebook thing in the way I’d like to.  So if you want to connect with me you can hopefully find me there.  And thanks also for those of you who have supported me on Facebook, I only have a handful of friends at the moment, but so many of you have turned up to like the posts and also on Twitter too.  Thank you so much, you’ve been awesome…I shall see you mid January!! :)


Even The End Shall Pass



Everyone knows
a flower has little time to parade in glory
all good things must end
now the leaf has at last let go
it’s sunny days have become
as the final chapter of a good book closing
red berries hold on
and listen to whispers on the breeze
this final stage is not as it seems
because bleakness is granted permission
to paint in harshness for a few short days
so let it colour with untamed rust
leaves lost to the ground
and sweep smoky trails across the sky
because this is the great alteration of shades
and all living things know
even the end shall pass
let the old make way for the new

Picture: Withered ~ Devinatart



I was fairly certain I wouldn’t write about Autumn this year, but obviously something in my mind had other ideas!  I’m sure that happened last autumn/winter too, and then this poem came out in December.  Perhaps I’m in denial as to how much I love this time of year?! ;)

I had real trouble finding an appropriate picture for this one.  When I did a search for images, it didn’t matter what direction I looked in, pictures for autumn were heavily dominated by orange and gold.  Stunning, but I wasn’t convinced they were a true picture of autumn, a little too bright, not quite what I was looking for.

The reality of autumn for me living in England is definitely a lot less vibrant.  There are some colourful trees to be found, but it’s more soft orange and yellow and a lot more rust and plenty of those smoky sky days.  In fact the day after I wrote this, the sky became exactly that, a pale china blue with wide sweeping smoky art trails with a hint of pink – abstract autumn!  It was like seeing my poetry in the sky, can’t say that’s ever happened before.  I guess the colour of autumn must vary a lot around the world, and I can only write about the one I know.

I thought the sound and feel of this Agnes Obel song would go well with this poem.  If you want to see more of Agnes I created a recent music post about her on my other blog CuriostyShopp.  I found her music last year while looking up Ane Brun, I feel they have some similarities in music style, atmospheric and inspiring lyrics.  You can find her You Tube channel here.



A stunning poem Cynthia, as are all your poems! This is so different, a perfect poem and reading for autumn!

Originally posted on littleoldladywho.net:

(originally posted October 31, 2013)

All souls own this evening, love,
blurring borders between quick and dead.
And even if the fearsome moans of man
did not appoint this time as hallowed,
our backyard trees announce it, as they
lose their glory and become their bones.

The veil is at its thinnest now, that
suddenly obscured you and left me
bereft, dumbfounded in the desolately clear.
Once a day, at least, I stop to wonder
where you are.  I do not think of
you as being here.  Except, tonight

a heightening of powers in the darkness
wants to break november from october
with a cold slap and a small wail in the wind.
Something more than me, something much
more sure that you abide, this night, brings
you, in ways that I can almost touch.

View original

Nothing Lasts Forever


I watched my mother turn the page of the calendar.  September, a picture of a golden sunset shimmering on a highland lake.  That picture and September spoke of things I wished not to know.

She said “The weeks – they’ve gone so fast!”  Fussing over clothes for school, debating how much I would grow, and if my skirts were long enough to last the winter.  She dragged me to shops, the boring ones, not for excitement of toys, but to buy a perfect pair of sensible brown shoes.  Boring ridiculous shoes, to be worn at a ridiculous place.  Because September always spelled – SCHOOL.  Too close for comfort and never far enough away.  Pressing in like an elephant sitting on my head, crushing my thoughts, reminding me the hot summer had finally melted, like watching ice cream drip, and never getting to taste how good it was.  My short days of freedom were almost over.

The first day of term would always be the same, walking through gates, long faces, clones in matching uniforms.  Grumpy grey, navy numb, charcoal and mud coloured shoes spoiling pretty young feet.  Laughter forgotten, fun stored away for long awaited opportunities, and the warmth of sun luminous on our heads as though holidays were not yet over.  How horribly deprived we felt, how torn we were, like chicks fallen from the nest.

Each new term, a fresh class, a new teacher.  Everything that had been, no longer was.  Strange, alien, vulnerable.  The beginning of another year in a place I wished not to be.  Windows were magnets, I’d lose so much time staring through many, my eyes drawn to outdoors, the trees, birds, and each fluffy cloud that drifted by had more meaning than the monotony of the classroom.  I’d try to find the tiniest evidence of happiness, because hours at a desk was never going to be happy.

A voice interrupted, the stern face of my teacher glared, eyes like fire, speech like rusting metal. “Get on with your work!  There’s nothing to see out there!”

Ah, but there was!  The world with all it’s interesting things.  A place with meaning – the flowers, the wind, the smell of cut grass, tree houses in the woods, picnics, days at the beach, the picking of berries and the refined art of making of jam.  My loving home, my peace, my quite, my own private space.  Obediently, I lowered my head, stared at my book, blinded by numbers – 6 x 9 – 7 x 8 – 4 x 12 …. none of it made sense at all.

While I stared at blank paper where my maths should have been, I learnt to imagine everything that was not of numbers, and wished the daily grind of the classroom clean away.

Before I noticed, September had become like any other month.  Lost it’s strength in imparting dread, and those days moved so far away.

September has changed.  Freedom was given.  And I learned that nothing lasts forever.


Picture - Spring by mechtanyia – Deviantart

Although everything in this story is true, it was actually the picture that originally inspired the idea.  It reminded me of myself at a time when I was most unhappy at my primary school, and how those long school summer holidays were so beautiful, so welcome.  But even after all those weeks off, it was never long enough.

I had a dreadful teacher at the time, I referred to her as ‘the witch‘ because to me she might as well have been.  I was constantly picked on by her and she even had the evil cheek to encourage the rest of the class to copy her in humiliating me.  I wasn’t the only one, she targeted a few others too – all the quiet ones – easy pickings.

I still feel to this day, she should have been dismissed, her behaviour was totally unprofessional.  And it’s amazing how one person can do so much damage to a young mind with their voice.  She succeeded in destroying my confidence for many years, but I’m happy to say, not forever.  And who knows, maybe I should thank her for assisting in making me a stronger person today and for teaching me one very important life lesson – don’t ever tolerate a bully, no matter who they are.

School always felt very unnatural to me, even my first day at school left me feeling I was in the wrong place.  I don’t absorb information very well in a classroom, I’m much better learning quietly in my own company, at my own pace.  I did eventually leave school at the age of thirteen, I just refused to go, caused a lot of problems, but it all came right in the end.

I was lucky to have a family who did their best to understand and support me, and I was home schooled for the remaining years – it was a huge relief!  There couldn’t have been anyone more grateful than me to finally reach age sixteen, it was so good to just forget about the pressure of eduction for a while.  It’s not my opinion that schools are wrong, I just don’t think they are the right place for everyone, we are all wonderful individuals, not clones.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who hated school, or maybe you loved school?  Whatever your experience was, please share your stories if you feel inspired to! :)


Early Years


“School for me
was an unpleasant necessity
a key to the future
I failed to recognise
distant and remote
unable to lure me
a prisoner of the present
where the cinema’s novelty
provided an escape
from conformity
into a world of fantasy.”

Absolutely brilliant Ken, I’m sure many will relate to this! I said I’d reblog, so here it goes!! :)

Originally posted on Ken W. Simpson Poetry:

It all began
subconsciously for me
with dim thoughts
and vague memories
of parental affection
in a world of sensation
the joys of toys
Christmas trees
a merry-go-round
picture books
and castles in the sand.

Supervised and organized
intolerant, demanding
urgently needing
attention and affection
continually beseeching
helpless, dependent
sometimes rebellious
adapting by reacting
crawling then tottering
gradually growing
and learning.

Circumscribed by necessity
controlled and dominated
by superior forces
dutiful parents
and an aunt
then by teachers
who encouraged
and groomed me mentally
to regurgitate
parrot-like sounds
with monotonous regularity.

Rivalries emerged
with the need to succeed
to gain an advantage
preferential treatment
as an incentive or bribe
when competing
for promotion and status
to earn recognition
without discriminating
between vanity
and jealousy.

Learning was fun
enjoyed when playing games
imaginatively inspired
but lost its appeal
when the fun disappeared
and discipline dictated
facts to be memorized
conceptualised and…

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Wasting My Young Years ~ London Grammar

London Grammar is one of those new bands I accidentally discovered recently on one of my You Tube trips!  I love Hannah Reid’s haunting voice, and I’m looking forward to see what they come up with next.  Here’s a live version of this song.  If you want to hear more of their music visit their You Tube or SoundCloud page, also Wikipedia or their website.

Does Anyone Think for Themselves Anymore?


This is so good Joe, if only more thought like you did, this world would be a much better place!

Originally posted on Stepping Out with an Agoraphobic:

Think for yourself

(Click to enlarge)

It is me?  You decide.

I recently heard someone say that “Orange is the new black.” I was taken aback because I had no idea what that meant, except that my box of crayons was now all wrong.

Upon further examination of my life, I realized the chaos that the statement had now created for me. In the morning, I would have to drink black juice to get my vitamin C. The local college sports teams would have to be called the Syracuse Blackmen and Blackwomen. And what in the world would happen to Halloween? It was almost too much to handle.

And then it dawned on me that this person was probably just speaking about fashion, which made it a little better – but not much.  I am not a big fan of the fashion industry: the people who tell us to wear meat and tin…

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