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DRESS LIKE SPIDERMAN …

SOME PEOPLE WISH FOR RICHES

TO DRIVE IN FLASH CARS

MERCEDES OR PORCHE TO NAME BUT TWO

SOME PEOPLE WISH FOR EXPENSIVE THREADS

TO ADORN THEIR BACK

BY WEARING  DESIGNER SUITS

SOME  LIKE TO FLASH THEIR CASH

TO GO SHOPPING IN EXPENSIVE STORES

THESE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO FORGET TO REMEMBER

ME I’D LIKE TO GO BACK TO 1971

REMEMBER HOW COOL IT IS WAS TO BE A CHILD BACK THEN

TO BE  5 YEARS OLD

DRESS IN YOUR SPIDERMAN COSTUME

YOU GOT FOR CHRISTMAS 1970

TO BE RIDING YOUR BICYCLE

WHILST YOU PEDDLE DOWN THE ROAD

OF  POPPING BLACK TAR BUBBLES ON WARM SUNNY DAYS

MAKING BIRDS NEST OUT FRESHLY CUT GRASS

OH TO BE A CHILD A AGAIN IN 1971

COPYRIGHT JUNE BOLLAND 2014

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Jimmy Choo’s in my closet

An impromptu posting.

I was reading my past posts on my blog yesterday. A majority (about 90%) of the poems I share are biographical. It was interesting to look back on the past year just by reading the poems and the postings .It’s a bit like reading a journal you kept when you were a teenage,  smiling and thinking back on the past . I  recently stumbled across an old journal dated 1982 , in which I wrote  “ I think I’m in love with Sara Clark!” . But as a rule I don’t really like looking back into my past too much or at least I didn’t until I met Jo my fiancee (still can’t get my head around using that word to describe her even though it’s been 8 months since I proposed to her and more importantly she said yes!) .

I’ve realised through the postings and poems I’ve shared, it’s reminded me of  how so  much  has happened in the last year of this blog and in real life.

I written about breaks ups (J and had two brief separations early last year) wrote poems and impromptu blogs about how my mum dealt with the stress and the worry and of the  extremely long wait to find out if her cancer had come back or not. Thankfully she was given all clear in October. I’ve shared my thoughts in verse of how Jo’s heart condition deteriorated and how she had to be fitted with a pacemaker, which at 26 was young. I’ve documented my experiences of living with bipolar and described the relapses have I have suffered. I’ve shared my thoughts of my dad who passed 9 years ago and wrote poems about the sadness of my uncle’s passing (he was like a second father to me) . Oh and those poems which I have written for Jo.

I have learnt a lot about myself too. That it’s OK to let go, to expose the dark thoughts that invade my mind caused by my depression sometimes, whether it be in the form of poetry or even in just sharing my thoughts with Jo. But most of all It’s been a year of discovery, of knowing that I don’t have to carry this burden of stuff I’ve carried alone for so long, that far from me having fears of holding Jo back, I realise she is the one person who holds me up, and helps me carry the weight in fact just unburdens me of stuff that quite frankly doesn’t matter anymore and for that no amount of words can describe how much love I have for her. That’s why I proposed to her a week after her surgery on 19 July at Angel Bay, because I needed to show her how much I loved her and for once not just write about it . So we will have been together six years this July, happier than ever, albeit I have a closet full of her Jimmy Choo shoes crammed into my closets. That’s why I keep my shoes in the boot of my car! It  is worth the sacrifice !

So would I say my blog year has been good?  One word Yes! I lost the need to write for a while , but this past year I’ve realised that writing is therapeutic, it focuses the mind, cleanses it, makes you feel joyous (well it does me anyway! ) Then there is the added  bonus of meeting other wonderful people on here too (although I have met one or two narcissist on my journey who appear to be far more interested in the number of followers they have, how many like they get,and so pre-occupied with stats, than they are in writing or blogging, which saddens me because I am not like that, I write for me, the fact that anybody else reads my blog in all honesty astounds me, likes posts I upload, leave lovely comments and follow my blog is truly humbling. So a huge THANK YOU from me for taking time to read my blog, never mind pressing  the like button and commenting, and following, honestly I am for once lost for words.  Anyway off for a few days away by the sea, as its my birthday tomorrow, so taking the laptop with me so I can catch up on some blogs I have been meaning to read for a while, especially now as I also  have new glasses which have  dyslexic lenses, as  I dont know if some you realise I am dyslexic . So the glasses are a Godsend as sometimes other people’s work is sometimes hard to read. I’m OK with writing as I use a dyslexic word font . Anyway your comments are always appreciated.

One final thought: I wonder what ever happened to Sara Clark?

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Memories for a Birthday

dad birthday

MY 200th poem on wordpress, how fitting it should be written for my Father on what would have been his 81st birthday

There hasn’t been one day since you past

That I don’t think of you

Sometimes the thoughts are tinged with pain

But not today Dad

Today I think of good times

Happier times

Of the silly days we shared

Of times when I was small

When you sit me on your knee

And you’d read to me, sing to me

How I so miss your voice today

These are the days I want to remember today Dad

There are things we try to cling to

Of stories shared

Some memories can only be seen through photographs

But the most precious memories cannot be seen or heard

They are in every heartbeat that we feel

So today Dad

Happy Birthday

Wherever your spirit soars

With love from me your little girl

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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All of you! …

At-the-River-212x300Saturday afternoon

With nothing much to do

Your  catching up with your work

Typing reports

And

I’m staring out of  the window

Thinking like I usually do

Tracing the raindrops

As they dance down the window pane

I glance at you

Concentration on your face

It got me thinking

What was it I first noticed about you?

Was it your eyes?

Hypnotic blue that cast a spell over me

Was it your long locks of golden blonde?

That radiated me towards you

Was it your mouth full and inviting?

Your lips have always been enticing

Or was it something much deeper

I first notice about you

Could it have been

The gentleness of your soul?

That attracted me like a moth

To the warmth , its brightness

I cannot really be sure

But whatever it was

That first time we met

I know one thing now

I love all of you!

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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I'm the land of words

books

“Child hide!” my inner voice would say

As the voices boomed from the kitchen

And I would run as fast as my tiny feet would carry me

Behind the sofa I would hide

But as the noise began to

Ricochet off the walls and the ceiling

Crouched I’d sit

And

Hide my face away

Deep in the blackness

Of my cotton and acrylic cave

I would stay

Until the noise would cease

And they would come and  find me

And with remorseful hugs

They would hold me

On those days when my parents needed to talk

I was given refuge with my grandfather

His house was a refuge for people

And for books

Rows of musty smelling

Hard backed books

Treasure Island

Robinson Crusoe

Little women

And book with words that didn’t have chapters

But with words that dance beautifully across the page

 Betjeman, Yeats, Woolf and T.S Elliot to name but a few

I listened as he would recite stories of far off lands

And hang on to every word

Of those of verses of love he would recite

I remember his heart danced

But his voice would quiver

I now realise he was thinking of my grandmother

As I grew I would search for those words he read

And lock them away inside my head

  So for those times when my thoughts are dark

And those demons come a knocking

I no longer hide behind seated barricades

I no longer hide away in my cotton and acrylic cave

I escape to the land of words

Where demons  are not welcome.

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

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I’m the land of words

books

“Child hide!” my inner voice would say

As the voices boomed from the kitchen

And I would run as fast as my tiny feet would carry me

Behind the sofa I would hide

But as the noise began to

Ricochet off the walls and the ceiling

Crouched I’d sit

And

Hide my face away

Deep in the blackness

Of my cotton and acrylic cave

I would stay

Until the noise would cease

And they would come and  find me

And with remorseful hugs

They would hold me

On those days when my parents needed to talk

I was given refuge with my grandfather

His house was a refuge for people

And for books

Rows of musty smelling

Hard backed books

Treasure Island

Robinson Crusoe

Little women

And book with words that didn’t have chapters

But with words that dance beautifully across the page

 Betjeman, Yeats, Woolf and T.S Elliot to name but a few

I listened as he would recite stories of far off lands

And hang on to every word

Of those of verses of love he would recite

I remember his heart danced

But his voice would quiver

I now realise he was thinking of my grandmother

As I grew I would search for those words he read

And lock them away inside my head

  So for those times when my thoughts are dark

And those demons come a knocking

I no longer hide behind seated barricades

I no longer hide away in my cotton and acrylic cave

I escape to the land of words

Where demons  are not welcome.

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland

May contain Rants

Look in the mirror and smile

Sometimes I look in the mirror and check the make up mirror adult child

Not cosmetically,

But the physiological make up that makes me

Sometimes I look and see the confidence

The strength with every new line that appears

But sometimes (rarely now)

I see a child’s image reflect back at me

The eight years old (me)

Weak, timid, no voice and a million fears created

by the violent noises that surrounded me

From my Jekyll and Hyde father

Memories that sometimes are so clear,

I am back there, hiding behind the sofa as a battle is fought

In the living room

It’s a noise that never leaves you

I hate violent noise

Angry voices still now

I shun those’s who take me back to hear this noise

these days I fight for the underdog, the supressed , those who feel like I felt

when mother’s shout and scream at their child

I offer a reassuring smile

to comfort to send a message not all adults scream and shout

some of us smile

so maybe when they’re grown they won’t remember

the violent noise that came from their mother mouth

maybe just maybe they will remember

the stranger that gave them that reassuring smile

and when they are grown maybe they will look in the mirror

And see an image a of smiling face starring back at them

©Copyright 2013 by June Bolland