Daily Archives: March 22, 2015

From Beyond The Skies



If we were to
study this planet through a telescope from a satellite
we would see our people scurrying like ants

their accessories for stylish survival
heavily clumped
around their bodies

their sense of purpose
and their miriad missions
reduced to nothing

we would see

strange sculptures
amid concrete monstrosities

sharp-edged constructions
in our verdant lands

bubbles of billowing mystery
in infertile deserts

tangled ribbons of grey
scribbled where we travel

unrecognised crime-site rubble
in a war torn tragedy

and seas of blue
which bravely refuse to fade
though unseen creatures
beneath its depths
suffer and die

and we would wonder what we are striving for
yet each of us is a universe which has planets within
as is every ant

© Jane Paterson Basil

She’s Done It Again


I have exercised my brain, trained it to take the pain
and learnt to stay well in spite of the strain
as they released the abuse with each fleeting caprice,
teaching each other how to steal a bigger piece of me,
to fleece my peace of mind
and my wallet and stability
I’ve increased my ability to lift my leaden feet
and stare steadfastly ahead of me
treading where it’s safe
delicately threading my way around the pain
and every time it’s easier to do it all again

But sometimes I take a tumble and I crumble inside
when she shouts and she mumbles and there’s nowhere to hide
from her unloving and unlovable drug touched madness
as she fills my aching soul with anger and sadness
the crushing heartbreak is too much to take
my knees start to bend and my body folds double
my head feels heavy and I know I’m in trouble
as I sink to the floor and roll myself tight
my heart is loudly pounding like it’s ready for a fight
to stop a choking groan I close my throat up tight
fog is roaming round the room and it’s limiting my sight
my skin is buzzing and there’s screaming in my ears
my brain is talking to my body but my body can’t hear

I find a soothing phrase and say it over and over
and with every repetition I can feel myself recover
I remove every inch of metaphorical slime
then I take up my laptop and I write this rhyme.

© Jane Paterson Basil