​They may just be a few letters but your words can inflict pain

Those calligraphed shapes can poison and maim.
Your unwarranted views and unwelcomed dits
Can build walls of silence and cause family splits.

Speak on, if you want to widen these rifts
Recall your point of view if you want to continue these tiffs
While words alone won’t break your bones
They can wound your heart and slam down phones.

Think before you speak before you hurt with your words,
Question your motives lest you unsettle your herds.
Just one word can be enough to self harm or kill
It takes just a few sounds from you for blood to spill.
Watch what you say for they can come back to haunt,
Be they a jibe, judgement or hurtful taunt.

Don’t let your tongue be the cause of another’s death,
Don’t let your spoken word makes a loved one struggle for breath.
Keep schtum, keep hurtful words to yourself
To save a stranger from the perils of mental ill health.


Pain Game

Break my heart, let me down

Rip out my smile, replace with a frown.
Watch me wither, stun me into silence.
Disable my joy and unleash my defiance.

See me crumple, fall into a heap.
Look on as pained, I struggle to sleep.
See my happiness slowly dissolve
As your heartless actions weaken my resolve.

My Christmas Wish

Forget lengthy lists or a stocking by the tree,
There’s just one thing I need really.

It’s the gift that keeps giving, a marvel of this age,
It won’t cost a dime or involve a chunk of your wage.

For Christmas all I want is your unparallelled presence,
Not a brand new car, phone or pricey present.

Give me your time, make a space for me
Pen my name down one date in your diary.

For a second or two, really listen don’t snore
As I recall a tale for ten minutes or more.

Give me your undivided attention, put down that remote,
Don’t waste a penny on that Harrods fur coat.

Give me something that won’t languish at the bottom of my drawer,
Take me for a coffee,  or to a new town to explore.

Let’s go dancing, go for a bite to eat,
Let’s make a date to catch up and meet.

All I want for Christmas is time with the people I love,
Your company alone is plenty enough.
So put down those socks, or chocolate money
And make a reason to come and see me.


I see you stop to tut, to disapprove
Of my toddler screaming on the move.
You frown as she throws her arms in the air
As like a bull, she crashes close to China ware.

You watch me scramble, with a pained expression
As I pick up tiny arms and legs with little discretion.
Her bellows and shouts broadcast through the aisles,
As beached, she lies on the cold floor tiles.

As the carnage unfolds, I see you stand
But you don’t come over to offer me a hand.
Instead, I hear whispers of ‘what a brat’
As you pick up kibble for your pampered pet cat.

While she performs her am dram in a public display
You fail to comprehend that she could be any other way.
For it is just an act, a scene of frustration,
A battle of wills and a cry for attention.

This ten second outburst is just ten seconds of her life,
Just ten seconds into tiredness, where tantrums are rife.
It’s just ten seconds after exhaustion takes its toll,
When for ten seconds, her happiness takes a lull.

Have you ever been held up, forced to stay  awake?
Dragged around against your will to buy a tray bake?
Have you been imprisoned, belted in an uncomfortable seat?
Been placed under harsh bright lighting and told not to move your feet?

While you look on with your judgemental glare,
Let me tell you what you’re missing when you stop to stare.
You can’t see her smiles, as she wraps her hands around mine,
Her eyes full of joy as we wrap presents in twine.

You can’t hear her giggles as we hide in her cardboard den,
Or her quiet determination as she counts up to ten.
You don’t feel her warm cuddles or her tiny embrace,
You don’t taste her tears falling from her face.

For while these tantrums come thick and fast,
I still pray these terrible twos will last.
Because I can’t face the idea that one day she will be grown
And one day, she will be gone and I’ll be all alone.

So I will cherish these years, tantrums and all,
And if you have the gumption, cheek or gall
To write my daughter off as a spoilt brat,
Put some perspective in your trolley as you shop for your fat cat.