RESTLESS SOUL; UPROOTED: Ragtag Daily Prompts

For this week’s Ragtag Daily Prompt, I’ve composed a poem comprising of Saturday and Sunday’s prompt titled RESTLESS SOUL; UPROOTED. Hope that ye enjoy the read! 🙏🤞😁📖

RESTLESS SOUL; UPROOTED

Jenny was a travelling soul
A helpless sojourner
Unable to rest
And always on the move
Never putting down roots
Or staying in a particular town
For any meaningful length of time.
Nor forming any friendships
Or intimate attachments
For fear she’d get too settled
And have to uproot her family
Young girl and baby boy
She grew up in an orphanage
Having never knew her own parents
You can’t miss what you never knew,
I suppose.
“They both died in a car crash
While her mum was in labour.”
Or so she’d been told.
This left her without any roots
Or sense of home & place
And a gigantic hole in her heart

One of the few things the nuns
Had taught her however
Was how to plant stuff.
Flowers; trees & plants
Of all shapes; sorts & sizes
Potatoes; carrots; parsnips etc
Which they would then sell to the local farmers market.
All with the hope of teaching the kids to be self sufficient
They all had a home,
A place where they laid down roots; grew and blossomed into what they were meant to be.

Why couldn’t she do the same?
What was she so afraid of?
Jenny knew that
She’d have to settle down eventually.
For the sake of Jesse & Harper at least
It wasn’t fair on them, this constant moving around.
Every couple of weeks, it was somewhere new.
It was exhausting!
They took it in good spirits but you can tell it’s taking it’s toll!
But it was hard to quell
This restless spirit inside her.
This search for adventure
And those itchy feet,
Well they needed to be scratched.

Should you wish to participate in the prompts then you can access them through the following links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2022/12/03/rdp-saturday-roots/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2022/12/04/rdp-sunday-rest/

KEY TO FREEDOM – Reena’s Xploration Challenge #257

THE KEY TO FREEDOM

Locked up again
Incarcerated
And behind bars
An unwelcome case of deja vu
These orange jumpsuits
And cold concrete surroundings
Were becoming all too familiar
Jason put up his feet
Sat back & closed his eyes
Like he was at home
Like…
This was the best he could hope for.
Ron leaned forward
(Hands resting on his lap)
With a glum; angry expression
On his furrowed brow.
The doors of their minds locked,
Like their bodies
Resistant to change
Incapable of breaking free
Chronically unable
To live a different kind of life.
Chris, however
Open book in his hand
Appeared content: determined
Smug almost
And completely engrossed
In his reading material
Until his eyes fixed
On one particular quote
Then it seemed like
A light bulb came on
And the lock opened
He suddenly realised
What he needed to do
To be free.

Should you wish to participate in the prompt then you can access it through the following link:

https://reinventionsreena.wordpress.com/2022/11/17/reenas-xploration-challenge-257/

THROWBACK THURSDAY POETRY READINGS: BARE KNUCKLE WRITER

Hey folks! 👋 Welcome back to my Throwback Thursday series of Poetry Readings. For this week I’ll be reciting a poem I wrote nearly 2 years ago titled Bare Knuckle Writer. Hope ye enjoy it, looking forward to seeing what you all think of it! 🙏🤞😁

BARE KNUCKLE WRITER

All this sanitizer
Facebook uprisers
Here comes phizer
Vaccine
Are we any wiser?

It’s not fair
This quiet despair
Nobody there
To talk to
The cold air

Cuts through
The bones of you
Hands are blue
Stripped
Of moisture too

Dried
Stretched
Tightened
Till it begins to crack
Frightened

Resigned
Like my mind
Undefined
Teetering
Between sick and the sublime

Till my thoughts disassemble
My hands tremble
And they begin to resemble
That of a bare knuckle writer
Who secretly revels

In throwing words around the page.
Unlocking them from their cage
Like punches filled with controlled rage. My vocabulary is my armoury.
Piece of paper is my stage

I’m a bare knuckle writer
Dressed as a bare knuckle fighter.
Yearning to be lighter.
Shed a few pounds from my mind.
Before I lose sight of

What was weighing me down.
Laying them down.
Flat on the ground.
With a literary hit.
Meant to confound

I trust my hunches.
And I pull no punches.
As another word crunches.
Off the inside of your head.
As your brain munches

And digests on the brutality.
Of this world. The banality
of the everyday. The finality
Of a loved one’s passing
Love; life and death in it’s totality

My anger I own.
So I cut close to the bone.
Delight and disown.
The gloves are off.
I feel at home.

SUNDAY MORNING BLOG RECAP: PART 15

Afternoon folks! 👋 Welcome back to my weekly Sunday Morning Blog Recap where I round up all my blog posts from the previous week in one place. Especially designed for those of you with busy lives outside of the WordPress blogosphere who haven’t had the chance to read all the posts.

There was no “Blog Goals for the Week Ahead” this week simply because, for the first time in a while, I had no idea what I was going to post this past week. And I hadn’t the motivation to try, which is funny, as that’s the whole point of this particular blog post: to motivate me & my loyal readers! 😁😂

On Tuesday, International Women’s Day, I reblogged and re-edited a poem I’d written a few years ago called AMONGST WOMEN especially for the day. 😁 The link to it is below: https://kenhume31.wordpress.com/2022/03/08/amongst-women/?preview=true

On Wednesday, I published a poem reflecting on the topic of “Home” simply titled: HOME. It’s a definition which can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people and got some nice feedback. You can find the link to it here: https://kenhume31.wordpress.com/2022/03/09/home/?preview=true

On Thursday, we took our weekly trip down movie memory lane with some more re-views of my old cinema reviews from 2007 with look backs at fat suit themed NORBIT & vigilante flick: OUTLAW. The link to it is below: https://kenhume31.wordpress.com/2022/03/10/throwback-thursday-film-reviews-outlaw-norbit/?preview=true

On Friday, in my favourite Poetry Quotes Blog, we reflected on the stifling effect education can sometimes have on poetry and the indefinable characteristics of a true poet with quotes from Henry David Thoreau and Erica Jong respectively. The link to it is here: https://kenhume31.wordpress.com/2022/03/11/poetry-undefineable-unteachable-instinctual-flair-for-language/?preview=true

And finally on Saturday, in response to a WordPress poetry prompt for March using the word: BRIDGE, I wrote and published a poem titled: BRIDGE THE GAP & got a nice response from it. 😁 The link to it is below: https://kenhume31.wordpress.com/2022/03/12/bridge-the-gap/?preview=true

HOME

Home
Is where the heart is
Is where it all started
Not where your dear departed
Used to dwell.

Home
Is where your other half
Walks with you on the path
Helping you to laugh
At the absurdity of life

Home
Is your port of harbour
Not made of bricks or mortar
Wherever your sons & daughters
Reside

Home
Can be a million miles away
Or wherever you feel safe
Wherever you lay your head
Down to rest

Home
Is a state of mind
Not just a place to find
Difficult to define
For the wandering soul

Home
Is where you’re lost & found
Where you can run aground
With someone who can stand to be around
Your broken self

Home
Is a piece of paper and a pen
My thoughts. Unravelling them
Source of expression & my zen
For my anxious mind

Home
Is for where you pine
Is where you draw the line
A place where all time
Comes to a standstill

THE CHANGING FACE OF CHRISTMAS

The Changing Face of Christmas
It doesn’t look the same
No more driving home
Or flying on the aeroplane
Covid 19: delta & the omicron
Has forever rearranged
Our plans and our instincts
With PCR & antigen
Tests. It’s a mess
Leaving us on the verge of insane
No more logs on the fire
No more naturally lit flames
Just business empires
Sucking your money down the drain
Cashing in on our desire
For the pretty & the vain
Earlier each year
We’re penning & posting
Our Christmas cards
To the people
Who matter the most in
Our lives
No more chestnuts roasting
Either
We still have family get togethers
Now mixed with virtual toasting
Money is learning
How to make a hole in our pockets
As we invest in a watch
For the time discerning
Or a beautiful locket
While the world keeps turning
And the electrical sockets
Are near burning
From over use
Of Christmas lights
Across the guttering
Flickering and bright
Candles in the window
Movies & muttering
And family fights
The Changing Face
Of Christmas?!
Well, some things
Never change
Can never replace
The excitement of presents
The invisible grace
Brought to us by Santy
Of being present
Under the Christmas tree
Unwrapping the paper
Setting the gifts free
Is such a magical caper
The stuff of dreams
So a Merry Christmas to you
And a Happy New Year
May it be peaceful & joyous
Full of good cheer
Think of those less fortunate
With no roof over their heads
No place to call home
No food to eat or even a bed
Appreciate how blessed
You are.
As we near the end of 2021
Lay all your troubles to rest
Say goodbye and be done
Embrace the madness
And those closest around
Not forgetting the sadness
That you are bound
To feel
As you think back to the past
As the memories increase
Of loved ones long passed
Away or deceased
Their spirits are still with you
Though their bodies are dust
Remember the good times
Cry if you must
It’s just another example
Of the Changing Face
Of this season of good will
Don’t let it go to waste
Devoured by grief
Like you’ve forgotten the taste
Of what it is to believe
In the magic of Christmas
To give and to receive
With gratitude and bliss
For what you have
Right in front of you
And not what you miss

PORCELAIN DOLL

To my porcelain doll
My fragile little girl
Your body shivered
Your mouth, it whimpered
And you gave out a heart-breaking cry
When you came into this world
When you were lifted out
It’s like you were asking us why.
Why did we have to lift you up?
Why did we have to take you out?
Of the womb, you’d made your home
I kissed your forehead
And talked to you
Mam gently rubbed your cheek
We tried to console you
As you seemed a little weak
With your spindly legs
And quivering lips
Your narrow, pleading eyes
Eyes that seem to beg
Us not to disturb you
And let you lie in peace

Eventually you find rest
On your mother’s chest
Skin to skin
Little ears to beating heart
Soothes you into a
Wonderfully deep sleep

We’ll hold you tight
We’ll wrap you up
But not so tight
In case you might break
For you feel so light
Like a little baby bird”

WEARY

Day flows into another day. Week into week as we continue to stay. Inside of our homes. Stuck on our phones. Steaming another show With nowhere to go. So we we’ve become weary of this lockdown
With so many people shot down
From this respiratory virus
That has quarantined and mired us
On confusion and despair
At this intrusion into our affairs
Dormant suspicions now aroused
Fear & paranoia now abound

We’ve become conscious of the proximity
Of people in our vicinity
Unable to embrace or shake their hands
Because we all must social dis-tance
Dance around each other into the middle of the street
For we cannot stand within 6 feet.
In case one of us sneezes or coughs
And the virus spreads. We used to scoff. At the origins of this pandemic.

Did it begin in Wuhan? Figure it out if you can
Some say that it’s a plan-demic
Designed for control of our society
While we drowning in our anxiety.
Me. I’m not so sure of this speculation
I just try adhere to the regulations
To keep my children safe and well
While the mortality stats slowly swell.
They’re gazing out the window
Wondering why they just can’t go
To the places that they used to
Nanny’s; playground and playgroup

How do you explain a virus to a toddler
While you can barely digest the fodder
Being fed to you by the media
NPHET and W.H.O medical encyclopedia
It’s enough to make your head implode
As we watch our nursing homes explode
With clusters of this rampaging
virus

So I take out my pen & papyrus
To salute our over 70’s cocooning
While our unemployment rate’s mushrooming.
Our doctors; care workers & nurses
How can we ever reimburse ya’s?
For standing firm on the frontline
Angels at the coalface of the dying
Delivery drivers too and retail staff
Shop & pubs with their business cut in half
Taking a hit from which they’ll never recover
As the shadow of Covid 19 continues to hover
Over our lives and inside our lungs
While our government climbs the rungs
Of power once more, riding the Covid’s coattails
While the rest struggle to prevail
Now that’s just my theory
I’m cut to the core and now I’m weary.

Written by Ken Hume

08/05/2020

End of an Era

It’s the beginning of the end

The end of an era

Of a simpler time

Before the rhymes

Took hold

And my folks got old

And father time came a knocking

A place I called home

Where I used to roam

Quiet as a little mouse

Squeaking and scampering

Ducking and diving

Out of people’s way

Afraid I would be stepped on

Caught in all those mousetraps

Life can set you

Formerly known as the “Pink House,

Which became our go to address

The home provided solace, shelter

For me, for our family

For so many more

From the world outside and it’s mess

 

Filled with love; security and wisdom

 

BEACON OF LIGHT

3 years ago on Monday, the 14^th of February, the most love-laden day of the year, a light went out. That light was my mum and the darkness which swallowed her up was, our familiar foe: cancer. My father, who passed a few years before and ever the romantic, came to take her home to be with him for the ultimate celebration of love.

A slight woman at the best of times, the cancer proved more than her increasingly frail body could bear with the 1^st & last course of chemo leading us down the palliative care route. The care; attention & love she received in the wonderfully inviting; open spaced and welcoming environs of Esker Ri Nursing Home, Clara and in the oncology unit in Tullamore General Hospital was 2^nd to none and gave her much comfort in what turned out to be the final few months of her life.

A beacon of light in a dark and murky world, my mum offered guidance; insight; wisdom or just an alternative perspective to everyone who came to her for advice; direction or simply a listening ear. She often dubbed this alternative perspective as being a devil’s advocate if you will, often making you look at things from a different viewpoint.

She was an oasis of calm; consistency and serenity, in an often chaotic; confusing and constantly changing world, drawing you out of yourself with her own quiet; patient and gentle manner. The comfort; solace and courage to go on you would receive as a result of talking to her couldn’t be measured or bought and you’d walk away from her nearly always feeling better about yourself. Just like the master cards adds say: “priceless!” And she was priceless; eternally minded and pure of heart with absolutely no ulterior or selfish motives. She served others & put them first because she found pleasure in it, never looking for anything in return, simply because it was the right thing to do. Even if it came at a sacrifice to herself.

Perhaps it was because she was grounded with a deep; unwavering and quietly prayerful faith which found its expression in her founding the Eucharistic Adoration 25 years ago which has touched, god knows, how many people’s lives and has left an enduring legacy that will last far beyond her 77 years. She just had this peace about her and you always knew what you were going to get when you came to talk to her which would put you at ease straight away

Indeed, she was many things to many people as the apostle Paul says in Romans: “That by some means she might save some”. And she saved many folks along the way. A loyal; generous and kind friend, a trustworthy; diligent and caring colleague & nurse, a deep thinking; reflective and talented wordsmith, a compassionate; emphatic and wise counsellor and an incredibly loving; nurturing; encouraging and patient mum; daughter and sister who inspired and spurred us all on to be true to ourselves and do whatever makes us happy.

Triona, my mum, our mum and friend and confidante will be deeply; sadly, and greatly missed by the many people who knew her or who had the privilege of having met her throughout the course of their journey and hers. The lives of her colleagues; friends; family and neighbours will never be the same again. Our hearts are broken yet somehow, better and bigger for having had her in our lives.