A child cries heart-wrenchingly
With growing pains
A mother cries silently
Heart filled with anguish
To take away and hinder all pain

Through experience knowing
Life contains heartache and pain
It’s even required for growing
All she can do
Is to help her children see it through
Emerge on the other side of fear and pain

In all life’s disappointments
Through all sorrows and pains
Be a supporting presence
Hold them with love and care

As long as there’s breath in her body
Always there


The other night I never got to fall asleep. Around midnight my youngest started to cry heart-wrenchingly because of growing pains. Aside from heating the wheat-heater, there was nothing I could do beside hold him and comfort him. He fell asleep again, fitfully. Waking every other hour to cry. Sometimes during the night, after crying myself because I felt torn in two wanting to do something and knowing I couldn’t, I wrote this poem.

Image credits:

First image: Photo by Marco Bianchetti on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by __ drz __ on Unsplash

Believer by Imagine Dragons – Saturday Song

Believer by Imagine Dragons

I’m still in so much pain from my shoulder that I can’t use the arm, sleep, think or write. So tonight I chose a song that I truly could write a lot about. But won’t. Let’s just say it resonates strongly with me normally and even more so right now.

The corous goes:

Pain! You made me a, you made me a
Believer, believer
Pain! You break me down and build me up
Believer, believer
Pain! Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain
My life, my love, my drive, it came from…
Pain! You made me a, you made me a
Believer, believer

From Believer by Imagine Dragons

Hope everyone has a better weekend then me!

Restless rest (2020 Re-post)

Terry Marks, Nightmare in a Mirror

Re-post comment:

I’ve had a little ache in my shoulder for a couple of weeks. Nothing major. Until today. When it exploded into – want to scream with pain every time I move my arm to much or too fast. Tried to take a rest earlier today, but lying down just made it worse.

So anticipating a night of restless rest tonight. Which is why this is this week’s Wandering the Archives Wednesday.

Haunted nights
Disrupted sleep
Grinding theeth

Heart-longed ghosts
Reawaken grief
Daylight seize

Angry wraiths
Trauma made
Flashback gave

Phantom could-have-been
Raises fear
Near-miss dear

Lonely-heart specter
Honest trust
Hope dust

Shades erupting
Legions burned
Can humans learn

Poet quills
Nighttime fills
Worrywart stills


I’ve had a couple of weeks of restless rest. The death-rebirth energies surrounding midwinter tends to do that. Especially if you work with yourself then.

Add to that the realization that climate change is not longer a thing of the future. Climate emergency is NOW. So we should ACT NOW. Stop consuming so much! Choose better materials. Work towards not using fossil fuels. And so on and so forth. All the things I feel like a broken record for repeating again, and again, and again.

As icing on the cake comes angst as a beloved friend, and several others, had a near miss with death. Senseless violence that’s probably aimed at someone, but shows total lack of care for human life. Again, loss of life is down to sheer coincidences. I really don’t want to live in a world where some think blowing a bomb, nearly talking a building, is a correct response to anything!

Poem written for weekly challenge: GHOSTS at earthweal.

Migraine – A Pantoum

Pain searing like the burning sun

Every sound a banshee scream

Like Hell’s pandemonium has begun

Torture ascending with every sunbeam

Every sound a banshee scream

Every colour a sharp cutting blazon

Torture ascending with every sunbeam

Every movement like being bludgeoned

Every colour a sharp cutting blazon

Every whisper a klaxon scream

Every movement like being bludgeoned

Every breath makes cold sweat stream

Every whisper a klaxon scream

Like Hell’s pandemonium has begun

Every breath makes cold sweat stream

Pain searing like the burning sun

© RedCat

Written for tonight’s MTB: Coming full circle prompt at dVerse.

I love writing Pantoums. I hate having migraines.

On the Edge

Trigger warning!
Photo by Spencer Selover from Pexels

Constantly shifting and parrying
One small misstep
Is all it takes to fall
When you are
On the edge

A thin line betwixt darknesses
The only light tread
In this weave of nightmares
Bright hope is scarce
When you are
On the edge

Unending battles and skirmishes
No path to ceasefire
Scraped raw, skinless
When you are clinging
To a sharp edge

Trapped in loops of the past
Shackled by demons
No space to break free
When you are balancing
On the edge

Blind to joy, trust, peace
Deaf to caring words and hearts
Mute the screams, silence the tears, hide the pain
Drowning in a well of sadness
Unable to reach out or be reached
When you are living
On the edge


Written for myself and others I care for. Who like me is battling depression, old trauma wounds and mental health issues.

I wanted to share how it feels to live on that edge. When the edge is all there seems to be. When there is no light on the horizon. That’s why there’s a trigger warning. Because from that place you don’t feel hope. Can’t imagine a happy ending.

Another poem about edges I written is – After.

Photo by Tom Verdoot from Pexels

Shared with dVerse — Poetics — Edges and Fringes.

Where tonight’s mission, should we choose to accept it, is to spark on one of these paths:

  1. Write a poem using the word edge;
  2. Write a poem that keeps Millikin’s question above in mind.
  3. Write a poem using the word fringe;
  4. Write a poem from the fringe, however you define it.

Obviously I choose number 1.

Photo by Daniela Constantini from Pexels

Writing feels clunky

Michael Coghlan from Adelaide, Australia [CC BY-SA 2.0]

Tried to write a story for Friday Fictioneers
But it feels like cotton wool between the ears
Probably toothache painkillers far-off
Beginning fever, sneezes and cough
With a quiet sob
Gave it up as a bad job

Writing feels clunky
Gears that almost fit
Every stanza balky
Resisting every wit
Words seems achy
Forced to flit
Between fevered sickly
And jawbone unknit
Mind rages stormy
Jumping from tidbit to tidbit
Muse all dizzy
Lost and unfit
Can’t find a story
Might as well quit


Cogs tumble

Tangopaso [Public domain]

Sometimes words flow rapidly, orderly, freely
Other-times words needs pondering, searching, needling

Anytime the monster Pain shows up to lurk
A wrench is thrown into the work

Cogs start to cough and tumble 
Poetic works crumble

Words no longer fit the mold 
Sentences won’t do what told 

Stanzas end rather abrupt
Pain-shacked muses corrupt


Also posted to Writers’ Pantry #4: Let Poetry and Prose Be Our Break from Catastrophe at Poets and Storyteller United.

And to to Promote Yourself Monday, January 27, 2020 at Go Dog Go Café.

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