Writing Poetry

Words flow from my fingers
Rhythm and rhyme are acknowledged as important yet ignored
Imagination and inspiration are the key
Thinking too much will throw it off
Inside I wonder if this will be any good
Never quite convinced that
Good will come from my words

Poetry plagues me
Overwhelmed with the need to write
Extremely difficult to find the motivation
Trying to do so more often
Really trying
Yet never quite doing

>I Was… #100daysofwriting

>This is a tiny snapshot of my life this evening. I feel like I’ve got loads I’d like to be doing but in fact I’ve been reading blogs, playing Patchworks and Jumbline and googling random shit while The Apprentice and NCIS were on in the background. It was quite a busy day though. In other news I am getting very into NCIS. Although it was weird to watch a Christmas episode today.

I was
All fired up
To write many words
Tonight was to be
The night I
Exceeded my
Word count
Instead it
Was yet another
Night where I spent
Too much time playing
Very addictive games
Oh well

♥ Emma

>Minor Frustrations #100daysofwriting

>I’m pretty frustrated now, probably needlessly. There were a few niggles that got a tiny bit out of hand this evening. One of those things were you just have to accept that the others involved are who they are and you can’t change them. Which, obviously can be a tough thing to deal with.

The situation this evening was nothing like as bad as this poem but it seemed to be the direction it (the poem) wanted to go in

Many minor small things
Intensely interacting to a form a larger whole
Needlessly niggle away until
Organically outrageously and overwhelmingly
Rage ricochets around the room

Fiercely frustrated yet over the top
Ranting raving people cause others to do the same
Understandably unctuous
Stresses simmers slowly
Then tempers erupt between usually good friends
Rules rarely broken
Are absolutely ridiculous right now and ignored
Trouble trying to stay calm
Inserting inspired opinions usually welcome is suddenly inappropriate
Overall overwhelmed by no one thing
Needlessly negative the event has become
Sadly selfishly everything is ruined for one and all.

♥ Emma

>Taking Back #100daysofwritiing #disability

>I am in the middle of writing a longer blog post about the language of disability. I saw a brilliant blog about the language of adoption and I’ve also been poking one of my friends gently about disability inclusion in her writing on a semi regular basis. The two things conspired to make me want to share some more thoughts on disability language.

The following poem is for my 100 days of writing project and was meant to be at the end of the disability language entry. Which isn’t finished and looks to be a long one. So this gets it’s own separate entry.

The words I use
To describe myself
Are right for me
And I have the right to choose

If I want to say
I’m this
Or that

You can ask why
I use a term
I’ll explain happily
Rather then let it pass by

But please don’t try
To tell me I’m not
Something I clearly am
If you don’t like it tell me why

I’m always happy to discuss
Disability language matters
I find other points of view interesting
And disagreeing won’t make me cuss

Language and disability are cause for much debate.
Not everyone agrees with everyone else
But in many was our diversity makes us stronger
Which for our community is really great

Of who I am I am proud
So words like crip
And cripple and spastic
Are totally fantastic to say out loud

>’twas the night before #Easter

>This is in honour of Easter and the fact I wanted to do something more challenging than I have been. I tweeted earlier that I was writing something which would either be fucking genius or fucking ridiculous. This is that piece and I would love feedback on it.

With apologies to the writer of the original

Twas the night before Easter
And all through the house
All creatures were stirring
(but thankfully there wasn’t a mouse)
The eggs were placed
On the work top with care
In hopes the time to eat them
Soon would be there
This cripple was not
Tucked in her bed
Visions of chocolate danc’d in her head
A long nap or
A DVD with goodies in her lap instead
Dreaming interrupted by such a clatter
She had to go see what was the matter
Wheeled to the window in a flash
Didn’t open the sash
(too cold)
The streetlights with their bright orange glow
Gave a weird look to those below
When what to her unsurprised eyes should appear?
Five drunks
(a regular occurrence this year)
She knew in a moment they’d be gone real quick
Hopefully before someone was sick
More rapid than eagles a straggler he came
Danced and pranced and shouted Easter egg names
“hey mars!” “oh Cadbury” “maltesers they’ll do”
“now creme egg and then one with a mug too”
Too many to choose he didn’t know what to do
To Sainsburys, to Tesco they’d visit them all!
As even Easter eggs in hurricanes can’t fly
an obstacle he couldn’t get by
Down to the shops went the straggler (and his friends too)
In search of Easter eggs
Old favourites – and new
And then in a twinkling she heard one youth
Prancing and pawing (most uncouth)
As she drew in her head and was turning around
Back across the room went the crip in one bound
She was dressed all in black from her head to her foot
Her clothes all tarnish’d with food that she cook
A bundle of eggs on her wheelchair back
She looked like a child as she delved in the pack
Her eyes — how they twinkled! Her dimples: how merry,
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry;
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
The skin on her chin was covered in white chocolate you know
The last bite of Easter egg held tight in her teeth
The foil it encircled her chair like a wreath
She had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when she laugh’d, like a bowl full of jelly:
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
You laugh’d when you saw her in spite of yourself
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head
For watchers to know they had nothing to dread
She spoke not a word but went straight to work
Put out Easter treats then turn’d with a jerk
And laying her finger aside of her nose
And giving a nod, out the room she goes
She went to her bed giving a whistle
To sleep she fell fast like a missile
But you heard her exclaim, as she turned out the light—
Happy Easter to all, and to all a good night.

♥ Emma


>My mood is somewhat better today; I actually feel like I’ve achieved some stuff which helps.

I have a positive looking outcome to an access issue I flagged on the horizon and as that was one of the things that made things tough the other week it’s a help to move things forward. My bruises from my fall are completely gone and a plan is in place to hopefully lessen the impact of future falls (so long as I can avoid falling in the next month or so) I REALLY must blog about that. The third crap thing I think will never be resolved but I’ve almost finished doing everything that needs doing to take it as far as I can. So I’m getting there and moving forward.

All of that crap and I haven’t shed a single tear over any of it. Amazing. Take a bow, sertraline.

This is my attempt at a funny poem. I like it but I think it isn’t good at the funny part.

This is a declaration
A declaration
Or perhaps
A proclamation
I’m not sure

But it is my intention
To provide
This information
In a decisive way

Shared across
The nation
With the intention
Of it being
A declaration
Or perhaps
A proclamation

Should be taken seriously
But now
it’s time to mention
That I’ve lost my train
Of thought
It’s gone
Never to be

This is my declaration
My proclamation
(the difference was
lacking from
my education)
To be shared across
The nation

Stop listening
To me
And go on
Or just have
Your tea.

♥ Emma

>The 3 Rs #fridayreads #amreading

>I’ve had a really lazy day doing lots of reading amongst other things. I kept thinking I’ll read one more chapter then I’ll do something else but that usually turned into three or four more at least.

I have so many unread books (both actual books and ebooks) that over a few days I considered all of them. I then declared a book buying ban and made a list of books. I am not buying any more books until I’ve read or at least attempted all of those. Although I did buy two books when I was writing the thing.

There are 35 books on the list, I’ve since finished two and hope to finish one or two more over Easter (a lot of them are short – I deliberately listed those as they are quick and will make a big dent in my TBR pile). I reckon at least 10 of the books have around 200 pages so providing they aren’t hard going I could read one of them in a day or so. Of course I do have library books out at the moment and didn’t list those…

I anticipate taking at least three months to read the list, probably longer. I doubt it will be less but who knows.

The 3 Rs
They were
Called at

Kinda amusing
Looking back
When you think
Only one
Begins with

That’s probably
Are what

Two of
The Rs
Are my
I’ve spent
The day
And now
I’m writing

School made
Them fun
But I’m
Not sure
I’d get
So much
Out of literacy

As I do

(you can do
What you
Like with

♥ Emma

>I have no idea what to title this but it’s basically crack!fic

>The following is 273 words of what, if it were fanfiction, could only be called crack!fic I have no idea why it turned out like it did or what I was thinking. It was written in the breaks of a brilliant episode of NCIS and I’ve just been sat here trying to rescue it before admitting that I’m too tired and giving up. Thems the facts and my only excuse.

It’s April. And it’s raining. Hardly surprising, given that it’s what the whole month is known for. April showers. Given the name showers though this isn’t what they’d been expecting. The better name for this would be torrential. Because it was. The sort of rain where even with waterproofs and an umbrella you’re soaked through after less than two minutes. Completely soaked through. Down to your knickers.

At least you would be, were you wearing them. That was the one thing he was pleased about. That he wasn’t wearing knickers. All of his knickers were really expensive flimsy ones (sometimes he thought that the more you paid the less you actually got. That had been one of the more shocking revelations he’d experienced as an adult. We won’t talk about the most shocking revelation. He doesn’t think about that if he can help it). He doesn’t usually think of his childhood with fond memories and he was definitely very relieved when it was over and done with. But there were one or two things that he will admit we’re better or at least easier in his childhood years. Knickers are one of the better things of being an adult. Having to pay ridiculous sums of money for clothes and especially for knickers is one of the worst. Especially given the fact that his knickers were dry clean only. Rain would destroy them he was sure.

Going commando under his jeans was something he’d never done before. He wasn’t sure he’d do it again. It was weird. Very weird. But it was definitely better than ruining his knickers in those so called April showers…

♥ Emma

>Elephant Handling #100daysofwriting

>Today has been a good day (the best I’ve had in a while) and I feel like I’ve got a lot done. It got away from me a little though and not only did I not get the non writing blog update I wanted to do done I didn’t have the time to do justice to the writing prompt a friend gave me.

This is quite possibly the silliest piece I’ve done for this challenge. It was inspired by a tv advert – the one where the guy is riding an elephant and the VoiceOver says “it takes years to master driving one of these.”. I think it might be for HSBC? It was on in the background when I was starting my writing.

It takes years to master elephant handling,

That was the very first line in the handbook he’d just received and pulled eagerly from its Amazon box. A dire warning but Dan refused to be put off by that. This was something he’d always wanted to do and whilst he knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park he didn’t think it was going to be as hard as they appeared to be implying it was. He’d master it and wouldn’t be put off. No siree not when he’d been preparing for this moment for his entire life. No one had ever been more prepared to start this training course than he was.

But he did wonder what elephant handling had to with being a bin man in the centre of London.

♥ Emma

>Rose – a character sketch and maybe a beginning #100daysofwriting

>This is something I may use in a longer piece. My intention had been to do a character sketch of sorts but actually having finished it I’m wondering if the situation I’ve placed Rose in doesn’t have more merit than Rose herself. It’s very much meant to be a straw that broke the camels back situation but I’m not sure how well that comes across.

Cold. It’s really cold. Dark too. Even though it’s been a good day Rose is in a bad mood now. She’s a tolerant person and it takes a lot to make her angry or even just wind her up a little. But this has. She’s tired and it’s been a long day. Plus, she’s struggling with that horrible letdown like feeling that comes after a day that was either much anticipated or great fun, and this day was both. Rose knows that the solution is to plan something else that she can look forward too. A little bit of hope on the horizon of the dreary grey landscape that is the daily grind of work, home, bed, repeat as necessary. A lighthouse guiding her through the storm to the next safe harbour. The trouble is she doesn’t want to be made to feel better. Even the most optimistic and positive person needs to wallow a bit now and then. And smashing the jar of peanut butter you’d been planning to put on your toast (it would have been just the thing to round off her perfect day) is a perfectly adequate reason to do so. Some would even say a great reason. And Rose was very much one of these people (Rose’s author however is not. In fact, The Author, is one of those allegedly rare people who can’t stand the stuff)

♥ Emma