Poem a day, number 22*

How much of my choices are my own?
Physiological compulsions
Societal pressures.

How much of my choices are my own
I muse, as I grab another sugary treat.
My own personal addiction.

It's not respected as an addiction
People smirk,
Or quip 'Oh yeah I have a sweet tooth too'

'No, no' I say
'It's medically proven
To have the same reaction in the brain as *******'

I can see them thinking
'Yeah right' as they smile and say
'Oh really?'

But the pressure to partake
'Just this once won't hurt'
Really?  Do you say that to alcoholics too?

Are people quitting smoking
Expected to smoke for a day or two,
Because it's Christmas, Easter, Birthdays...

How much of my choices are my own?
When you can't actually live without
Some sort of sugar.

In a society where anything with a hint of processing
Is likely to have some refined sugar
And the more convenience the higher the risk.

How much is my choice?
When managing my addiction is more about
Keeping sugar to a bearable level.

An addiction that can't be cut out completely
As my hand starts to shake at the mere thought of
Having to 'quit' again.

Poem a day, day 21*

Today was my daughter's birthday
She turned 20, my how she's grown.
We went out for a nice lunch
And bought stuff at her favourite shop.

Ont the train, I was on my way home
She on her way to work,
She asked me to go have a frozen yoghurt with her.
I love just spending time with my daughter.

I am glad she turned into
The kind of adult I like to be around.
She's intelligent and funny.
An awesome combination.

I love her zest for life.
Her honesty and her wit.
I love her open-mindedness and her intellect.
I love that we can laugh together.

It's such a blessing to have an adult daughter
Whose company you enjoy
And who wants to spend time with you.
She's so outgoing and fun, she keeps me young

Poem a day, day 20*

Christmas blessings, reaching across the airways
Where will they land?
Will they make a difference?
Does 'bless you all' mean anything to an individual?

But I do mean it
Bless you all.
Bless the ones I follow
You inspire and delight me.

Bless you who follow me
I hope I touch you in some way.
Bless you who happens across me
May I bring a moments joy

The airways connection can be a special one
People never seen
Often well known
Or completely unknown.

Either way, Bless you

Looking around on a sunny day
Barbeque sizzling, music playing
People talking, laughing.
It's a great atmosphere and I think
"This should be food for poetry"

And still I draw a blank
And I wonder why.
Maybe it's because
I don't really feel part of it.
New job, socially awkward.

I go off to the side
To sit down and write
Looking on from the outside, my norm.
I even brought magazines and poetry book
Downstairs to the barbeque.

I guess I created this
Carrying my barrier of books in front of me.
Easier than trying
Easier than feeling awkward and stupid, again.
But I know I'm not helping.

I have moments of feeling secure.
A confident, capable woman.
Me and my 'moments'
Some moments I would love to 'live in'
Some I do my best to avoid.

Poem a day, day 19*

I don't think I have anything to say today.
Except "Sleep"
I want sleep.
I have to go to work soon
Sleeping now is not a good idea.

I don't think I have anything to say today.
I don't think I have anything to think.
Mind numb.
Mindlessly reading posts and playing games.
Just staying awake from one moment to the next.

When I stop, my mind shuts down.
Dull white noise
Inducing sleep.
But I must fight it.
Don't dance on that edge, so tempting to fall.

My hand stopped.
My mind stopped.
My eyes closed.
Still fight off sleep.
This must be the end of my poem.

Poem a day, day 18*

The cat screams for freedom
"Let me out!  Let me out!"
That night he returns shaking,
Terrified "you weren't here when I came home"

Do we really want that freedom
Which we seem to yearn for?
Freedom isn't safe
What you know, isn't there anymore.

Take your freedom in small chunks
And make sure you can make your way back.
The very next day the cat screams
"Let me out!  Let me out!"

Poem a day, number 17*

Time of peace
Day of rest
In this time of 24/7
Who really gets that?

If you are blessed
With a day or two off
You spend the weeks before
In a manic frenzy

Fitting in shopping
And organising
Around work
And schedules.

This year our Christmas
Will be the 22nd
The one day we all have
Enough time off.

Then Mr will rush out
To work that evening.
I will prepare myself
For work the next day.