Kira’s Sunday Scribbles: 24 June 2019

Kira’s Sunday Scribbles

Just Leave Me Be…

Don’t burst my bubble

I mean no trouble

Thanks for your kind care

I’m going nowhere

I sit here instead

Alone with my head

Avoiding the fire

Of burning desire –

Under leafy tree

Please just leave me be…

Kira’s Sunday Scribbles

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Uncivil War…

Uncivil War…

Forever plagued by ‘should’ and ‘ought’

Self-discipline so firmly taught

Just leaves me feeling overwrought –

A battleground I never sought.

So rigidly it binds me tight

Held captive by the thought of ‘right’

Internally I feud and fight –

But can’t escape, try as I might.

A childhood foe in adult skin

Craves self-approval from within

While fearing judgement outwards in –

Uncivil war I cannot win…

The Sixth Annual Contest of Whatever!

A Tale of Two City Animals…

A squirrel walks into a bar – well it was actually a discarded scaffolding bar some idiot had left propped up awkwardly against a wall, unsecured and off balance. The clumsy squirrel thinks – whatever, I still walked into it! The loosened scaffolding bar clatters unceremoniously to the ground with a resounding clang, hitting a passing scavenging fox on the head on the way down. The freaked-out squirrel takes full advantage of the fox’s obvious disorientation and distress and scarpers up the nearest tree to escape retribution. The poor old fox slinks home in pain muttering to himself and curls up in his den with a bad headache and two eyes even blacker than usual… 🙂

The end.

Created for my first ever entry to Evil Squirrel’s Sixth Annual Contest of Whatever 🙂

Porridge

Dad has porridge for breakfast each day
Made with meal, the traditional way
Boil with water and salt
Stirring smoothly, don't halt
Till it thickens to soft glossy grey... 🙂

Dottled and Thrawn…

Dottled and Thrawn...

A million loving moments fill my head
Remembering my dad from childhood years,
But facing new realities instead
His failing fragile mind prompts blurring tears.

As vascular dementia takes its toll
Forgetful blank confusion plays cruel tricks,
Bewildered absence taunts his stubborn soul
And thrawn and dottled's not an easy mix!

Each tiny blockage works to undermine 
The crumbling bedrock of his memory,
His world's diminished, harder to define
Frustrating future beckons senselessly...

And once the day has come when no "Dad"s left
We'll simply go on loving, quite bereft...

PS For the non-Scots speakers of you out there, “Dottled” means in a state of dotage and “Thrawn” means stubborn… 🙂