Posts Tagged ‘Prose4T’


Happiness: Happiness is a mental or emotional state of well-being characterized by positive or pleasant emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy.

I didn’t think it possible,
A dream I’d always chased.
Wishing, hoping, yearning.
Not wanting life to be a waste.

Courage came from deep within.
Forced myself to try.
Worked harder than I ever have before,
Not once questioning why.

Supported by so many people,
All believing I could succeed.
Encouraging, listening, inspiring.
Giving me everything I could need.

I chased my dream and caught it,
I’m so excited I could cry.
Like a dragonfly emerging from a pond,
I’m spreading my wings preparing to fly.

Life is for the taking,
Grab it with both hands.
Don’t stay in stagnant water,
Fly away to different lands.

Spread your wings and gather speed,
Do what you were born to do.
For the only person responsible for
Your happiness is you.

Prose for Thought

Fallen Leaves

This is my entry to the Center Parcs and Tots 100 November challenge. If I’m chosen, I would like to visit Longleat Forest.

Center Parcs is a wonderful place for a fantastic family break and so I’ve decided to enter this poem into their family blogger competition! If you’d like to enter then Center Parcs Whinfell Forest’s resident nature expert and Conservation Ranger, Emma Tapp has some fab tips on their site if you need some inspiration! The inspiration for my poem was her first tip:

1. Be inspired by your surroundings – Observe as the leaves change colour from green to red and let the beautiful burnt oranges get the creative juices flowing, what does it look like and remind you of?

And this photo:
Leaf: A leaf is an organ of a vascular plant, as defined in botanical terms, and in particular in plant morphology.

Fallen Leaves

A fresh skin, new paint.
Reached the end of one journey,
Ready to start anew.

Budded, began with such hope.
Flourished, success, recognition.
Then start to wane.

So brief, time passes by.
Surrounded by many, fighting for light,
One by one they fade and fall.

Meant to be, out of control.
Powerless in nature and outcome,
Fate already decided.

Sunlight fades all heat is gone,
Yet more beautiful with time.
Vibrant colours fighting on.

Changing, trying to last.
Solitary and clinging on in hope.
Fragile, no choice but to finally let go.

Different, but the same

I’d just like to say that after reading this poem back, it could possibly sound like I’m a bit dissatisfied with my life at the moment, which couldn’t be further from the truth!! I guess I’m just very aware at times that even though I do different things everyday, my days are still very much centred around the same stuff I do as a mum….and I really do sometimes feel like I am forever on my hands and knees clearing food from the floor…just from lots of different floors!

Each day I wake, know what’s ahead,
Rub my eyes get out of bed.
Packed lunch to make, teeth to clean,
A few smiles and tantrums in between.

School run; walk come rain or shine.
Smile and wave, pretend I’m fine.
Home to put breakfast things away.
Change a nappy, out for the day.

Different people, same things we say.
Talking comes easily, brightens the day.
Home to make lunch, pick remains off the floor.
Nap time, me time, always need more.

Pick up from school, pop here and there;
Dentists, shopping, cutting of hair.
Home for dinner, cooking some more.
Again clearing remains up from the floor.

Bath time, bedtime; one, two then three.
Time for just my husband and me.
Exhausted and sleepy, weary from work,
Eyes start to close, limbs start to jerk.

Head hits the pillow, another day done,
A new one tomorrow, opportunity for fun.
Another play date, another game,
Each day different, yet somehow the same.

Prose for Thought


Housework: The tasks, such as cleaning and cooking, that are performed in housekeeping.

So today my mum is coming to stay, and instead of cleaning and tidying my house I’m sat here writing this poem about it! I hate housework, do you?

Tidy here,
Spring clean there,
Wipe a spill,
Mop, then stare.

New spill,
New mess,
More dirt,
Not less.

Uphill struggle,
Dust and grime,
Sweep again,
Not enough time.

Vacuum daily,
Put things away,
Empty dishwasher,
Do this all day.

Laundry waiting,
Food on floor,
Relentless cleaning,
Will do it no more.

A losing battle,
I never will win,
Let’s live in a mess,
I’m done, I give in!


Prose for Thought

Power Through

Power Through: (v.) continue despite difficulties

Not one normally,
To ask for help.
Just power through,
Fine by myself.

Up at night,
Work all day.
No time for rest,
Little time for play.

In control of it all,
How I want to be seen.
No cracks, no failing,
Falling apart at the seam.

Don’t notice the signs,
The aches and the pains.
Ignore the heaviness,
In body and brain.

Niggles, hints,
A break is what’s due.
Still cook, still clean,
Always power through.

Sore throat starts,
Head ache begins.
I will not, cannot,
Begin to give in.

Until it takes over,
Forces me down.
Unable to function,
Do nothing but frown.

Help needed,
Look after me.
Man down, mummy down,
I simply can’t be.

Indulge in my sickness,
Sleep, rest, restore.
Till I’m better and ready,
To power through once more.

Prose for Thought


Insomnia: Insomnia, or sleeplessness, is a sleep disorder in which there is an inability to fall asleep or to stay asleep as long as desired.

Darkness, silence,
Yet my brain screams noise.
Thoughts, words,
Never quiet.

Breathing becomes quicker,
Shoulders hunched.
Uncomfortable, restless.
Eyes wide open.

Anxiety awakens,
Panic begins.
Thoughts whirl, never stopping.
Heart beats out of time.

Stare at the ceiling,
Stare at the walls,
Need an escape,
Need rest, peace.

Tears well in my eyes,
Frustration, anger,
Inconsolable, wound up,
Tense, awkward.

Give up, get up.
Alone in the dark.
Peaceful house,
Hectic mind.

Brain at war with body,
Eventually shuts down.
Restless sleep,
Wake exhausted.

Trudge through the day,
Maybe tonight,
Sleep will greet me,
like an old friend.

Prose for Thought

The Next Chapter

Chapter: Chapter (books), main division of a piece of writing or document.

End of one part,
On to a new.
Different routine,
Changes anew.

Time to start school,
Now you’re four years old.
The next chapter for you,
New stories to unfold.

You’re ready and excited,
Brain absorbing many things.
Craving fresh challenges,
Soaking up all they bring.

Beginning a new journey,
An adventure will flow.
One that will shape you,
Change you as you grow.

I worry as mums do,
Of what your future holds,
But you have to experience it,
Not the same being told.

I wish you embrace it,
The good and the bad.
So it moulds you to being,
A confident, happy lad.

Be the best that you can be,
Enjoy as you learn.
You only get one go,
And now it’s your turn.

Forget the assessment,
Forget all they test.
For me if you’re happy,
Then my worries can rest.

I’ll be here beside you,
And love you each day,
So for as long as possible,
You can be a child, play.

School is a big step,
For you and for me.
What the next chapter holds,
Will be exciting to see.

Prose for Thought

The Gîte

Gîte: A gîte is a specific type of holiday accommodation. A gîte is a holiday home which is available for rent. Gîtes are usually fully furnished and equipped for self-catering.

She stands tall and proud,
Elegant on the outside, decorative.

Flowers hang by the door, swaying in the breeze.
Shutters open wide,
Daring the observer to take a closer look through netted curtains.

Looking out onto fields of corn,
Nestled in the perfect spot,
Tucked away and private.

Yet inside holds a secret.
Once grand and new, once solid and clean,
Now she lies dusty and dormant.
Only coming alive when a family enters,
Bringing with them laughter and life.

Look closely and you will see the fireplace crumble,
Touch too hard and a light shade will fall,
Exposing live and dangerous wires.

She is tired inside,
In need of some love.
She is old and worn.

Strong wooden beams support her still,
Strength on the inside keeps her standing on the outside.
Looking at the outside no one could know what is hidden in the depths,
Until they dare to enter deeper.

She could be grand again if someone just took the time to look after her,
Nurture her back to her former glory.
She is not lost forever.
Appearances can be deceptive.

Prose for Thought

Building Memories

Memories: The mental faculty of retaining and recalling past experience. The act or an instance of remembering; recollection: spent the afternoon lost in memory. All that a person can remember. Something remembered: pleasant childhood memories.

Lives together,
Yet often apart.
Separated all day,
Joined by five hearts.

Goodbye in the morning,
Gone all the day.
Home-time, bedtime,
Sometimes away.

Holiday different,
Together at last.
Memories building,
Like my childhood past.

Same beach as then,
Twenty-five years on.
Father not here,
Fourteen years gone.

Memories built then,
Still vivid and clear.
Just like it was yesterday,
And he somehow near.

A family then,
When I was the child.
As the parent now,
New memories are filed.

Time away important,
A chance to rest.
Recharging spent batteries,
Time out with the best.

Laughter and love,
Five of us as one.
Living and loving,
Memorable fun.

Different culture,
Wonderful sights.
Days on the beach,
Long, lazy nights.

Precious time together,
My family, my world.
Breathing in new memories,
My heart forever will hold.

Prose for Thought


Travel: Travel is the movement of people between relatively distant geographical locations, and can involve travel by foot, bicycle, automobile, train, boat, airplane, or other means, with or without luggage, and can be one way or round trip.

In the car,
A long way to go.
Are we nearly there yet?
For the millionth time ‘no!’

Turning left,
Then straight on.
Missed our turning,
Gone very wrong.

Children are bored,
Whinging and grumpy.
Bum is numb,
Road is bumpy.

Chocolate, treats,
Keep them happy.
Music on,
Oh no! Smelly nappy!

Play eye spy,
read or sleep.
Distracted for seconds,
Attention must keep.

Kilometres, miles,
Long way to go.
Sometimes drive fast,
Roadworks, drive slow.

Pins and needles,
Sat for too long.
Packed full of bags,
Room for us…none.

Destination, arrival!
French bread and wine!
Holiday begins now,
Stinky cheese is all mine. 😉

This poem was written with the help of my 12 year old daughter during our long journey to our gite in France!

Prose for Thought

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