I am not broken

When I was young

I felt broken

I felt like a jigsaw with pieces

Missing

I felt like anxiety and desire

Kissing

In a tortured embrace

I felt like there were parts of me that would

Never

Not be broken

Parts of me that would never be

Spoken out loud

Secrets locked in boxes with

Shame

Written on them

I felt like a precious vase

Alone and abandoned

On the floor in a thousand pieces after a storm

Still warm

With no one to witness the utter

destruction

I was ceramic shattered so hard

That hope was gone to

Put me back together

I would have to discard

Not even gold could unite me

I would not become

Synergy

Life took my child

And ripped her open

Like the piñata at my 11th birthday party

Sweets spilling out across the

Spiky grass

On a cloying spring day

And it took years to repair the damage

So long I started to loose hope

But repaired the damage was

And hope lost regained

As life handed me

New materials

With which to build myself back up

Shame was rubbed off

The box of my secrets

Which spilled out into the world

As I embraced them as part of who I am

Secrets now sewed in bright colours

Into the fabric of the adult

Writing

These

Words

A patchwork person

I am an artists interpretation

A visual representation

Of the pieces of me

I have collected through the years

With deliberate determination

I am a sky full of scars

The proof that I won each

Internal and external battle

I am a library full of stories

The proof that I

Learnt the moral at the end

I am loved and love

For I am just as much the

People who I love

As I am me

And it is these people

Who truly connect me to this world

When I was young

I was incomplete

For I did not know

That the pieces of my jigsaw

Weren´t missing

They no longer belonged

To me

That the shattered shapes

On the floor opened the door for

Me to draw a new shape

When I was young

I was clothes in the washing machine

Being battered and drowned

Unaware of the start and finish

Unaware of the purpose

Unaware that I would emerge

Butterfly

Now emerged as I am

With love in my heart

And pen in my hand

I know that

I am

Not

Broken

A poetic foray into digestion

Her stomach gurgles, her belly quivers,

Her eyes dart round, her body shivers,

Her blood is pumping, pupils dilating,

Her brain firing signals, neurons pulsating.

 

“I’m hungry” she says, stomping her feet,

Her hands curled in fists, her cheeks pink with heat,

Her blood sugars low, her brain senses the threat,

Hypoglycaemic, she’s getting upset.

 

Let’s zoom inside to her stomach, we see

Not much actually, it’s pretty empty,

Let’s go closer still to epithelial cells,

With mechanoreceptors that detect stretch and swell.

 

The cells are secreting, in the absence of food,

Ghrelin, director of hunger and mood.

It travels far to the hypothalamus,

And crosses the barrier to the Arcuate Nucleus.

 

It exerts on the brain orexigenic effects,

Acting on all of the CNS,

As well as controlling energy homeostasis,

It activates signals in other places.

 

It is involved in rewards and incentives,

Activating memory to be more retentive,

In the prefrontal cortex it alters decisions

And signals that food is the brains next mission.

 

AGRP / NPY neurons firing,

She suddenly realises she’s desiring

Foods that will bring comfort and energy,

Turning the hunger to satiety.

 

She glances around, “Is there food in the kitchen?”

“Maybe there’s cake?” she finds herself wishing.

Her brain screaming out “I need sugar and fat!”

“How about this celery stick?”, “No! Not that!”.

 

She settles for leftovers from todays’ lunch,

She prepares the meal and begins to munch,

But before the food even enters her mouth

Her body’s preparing to break it down.

 

The optic nerve signals, olfactory tasting,

Oesophagus contracting, stomach bracing,

Signals firing and cells releasing,

Hormones pumping, saliva secreting.

 

She’s chewing her food, or masticating,

The mechanical movement of teeth activating

Brain pathways and peptides although which? We don’t know,

Undoubtedly appetite suppressing, though.

 

She swallows the food, it enters her gullet,

Peristaltic contractions push it, pull it?

Down to the stomach and through the sphincter,

Exciting the vagus nerve which leads to

 

Acetylcholine release which then acts on

M3 receptors which has an impact on

G cells and Gastrin release which exacts on

Enterochromaffin cells, in fact, on

 

The release of Histamine which causes secretion

Of a Hydrochloric Acid solution

From parietal cells. This breaks down proteins:

Bacterial, viral, it effectively cleans.

 

The stomach defensive to outside threats,

It protects the body from microbe pests,

And starts to get bigger when filling with stuff

Alerting cells that there’s food, sure enough.

 

This is the sign that cells into action,

Satiety hormones promote food satisfaction,

And called to arms they summon their messengers

To zoom round the body, passing on messages.

 

Listen real close and we’ll hear what they’re saying,

Small peptides which act on receptors relaying

Instructions for organs and tissues together,

Discreetly directing digestion, they’re clever!

 

Quick shout out to the second brain,

Enteric Nervous System reigns

Independent of our head,

Taking over when we’re fed.

 

Not consciously controlling food,

But still it can impact on mood.

Example; it can play a role in

Emotion via serotonin.

 

We can’t leave out our microbe friends,

They influence our gut no end,

They breakdown fibre, control immunity,

Live symbiotically with impunity.

 

But more than this they also create

Peptides that mimic our own, although fake

They still can cause the brain to favour

Certain foods and change behaviour.

 

But we’re on a tangent, I transgress,

Trying to unravel the mysteries, the mess,

Let’s turn our attention back to her digestion,

Please excuse this wild digression.

 

The food moves into the small intestine,

Which triggers release of the hormone secretin,

Raising pH, deacidifying the chyme,

Preparing the food for absorption time.

 

Now this is when hormonal magic starts,

They spring into action to play their parts,

All working towards a common goal,

With the finest precision and expert control.

 

Introducing our trio of polypeptides,

Meet P.P, P.P.Y and greet N.P.Y,

Their function is slowing intestinal transit,

Collecting info from gut contents to transmit.

 

There’s cholecystokinin released from the lining

Of epithelial cells, the intestine mining

All of the nutrients. Hormones supplying

Pancreatic enzymes emulsifying.

 

Let’s move to the pancreas, it’s interesting here,

There are many cell types, but you don’t need to fear,

Insulin’s important and so’s glucagon!

Blood glucose levels is what they act on.

 

“Cells, uptake glucose!” ordered insulin.

Encouraged by supporters called incretins,

G.I.P and G.L.P-1 unite

To make sure secretion of insulin’s right.

 

Back to the intestine the food flowing through,

Down to the large one it ends up as poo,

But still there’s absorption before this occurs,

Gradient crossings and nutrient transfers.

 

Her hormones are doing their job quite well,

Signalling enough’s enough for a spell,

We’ll find, if we’re looking, there’s one in particular,

Not quite a satiety hormone, but similar.

 

That is super important in stopping eating,

It acts on the brain to minimise feeding,

Signalling high nutrition, or paucity,

Signalling also body adiposity.

 

It’s Leptin, of course, what else could it be?

Released from adipocytes, completely key.

Directly proportional to adipose stores,

It communicates well, but not without flaws.

 

For when we’re obese, sometimes we’re resistant

To leptins effects, and Ghrelins persistent,

The balance is off and it’s hard to make right

But for now she is healthy, her hormones alright.

 

The food almost finished her plate almost empty,

She’s eaten as much as she can, it was plenty,

She’s starting to feel just a little bit full,

“Delicious! But really I can’t eat it all!”

 

And after a while, digestion is done,

Nutrients absorbed, the waste passed on,

Deposited fat, glucose stores filled,

The body has protein with which to rebuild.

 

She’s feeling much better now that she has eaten,

Happy and comfy, a bit sleepy even,

She washes her dishes and lies on the sofa,

Sinking, so sweetly, into a food coma.

Coach Predator

You sit next to me with other seats spare,

On the back of my head I feel your stare.

I grit my teeth and peer out the window,

The coach starts moving, grumbling, slow.

 

You spread out your knees, I pull away mine,

You’re in my space, I pretend it’s fine,

Then your elbow is, for some reason, resting

On my hip. My whole body’s protesting.

 

For a while I think, am I being unkind?

Why do I care when he doesn’t mind?

So I move out your way but you follow me,

Spreading out further not letting me free.

 

I adjust my position to give myself space,

I turn and see the look on your face

As you move your arm over, pressing,

Touching my body, almost caressing.

 

Get off me. You’re disgusting. And intimidating.

Your intentional touch is violating.

My whole focus centred on how much I’m hating

Your presence, your dominance is suffocating.

 

I muster my bravery and push you away,

I regret touching you as the skin memory stays,

I take a deep breath and I start to relax,

But it’s not long before your arm is back.

 

I’m ignoring, I’m ignoring, I’m ignoring you.

I’ve tried everything, what else can I do?

And just when I think to myself, I can’t take it,

You speak to me, flirtily, sleezily, I feel naked.

 

Passively, English-ly, I reply to your questions,

I try to be nice, I keep my expression

Courteous and cool, it’s not in my nature

To be mean to a stranger.

 

You ask for my headphone, I hand one over,

I give you my phone too, like a pushover.

You play songs I don’t like whilst smiling at me,

You ask if I like them. Do I have a choice but to agree?

 

You steal my attention for the rest of the trip,

Still pushing your elbow into my hip.

We, finally, arrive at our destination,

Relieved, but angry and hurt by your predation.

 

I try to escape but I find that you’re following,

Glancing at me, you hold out your hand offering

Help or assistance, can you ride in my taxi?

No, you can’t, I’m sorry. Why the fuck am I saying sorry!?

 

You ask for my number, to see me again!?

Do you really, can’t seriously!? think that we’re friends!?

I smile apologetically, a meek shake of the head,

“No and fuck off”, I should have said.

 

I get in my uber, I’m finally alone,

So thankful and grateful I’m almost home.

But the anger remains, at my own passivity,

I berate myself and my sensitivity.

 

 

 

A peculiar feeling

My mind wanders with nothing to grip,

No thoughts that stay, no ideas that stick,

 A boredom, a gloom, an absence of will,

I look in to my head to find things quite still.

 

A longing sensation extends in my chest

It strangles my lungs and steals my breath,

I look down in surprise as I hold myself,

Why do I feel so lost and bereft?

 

I dig deeper to find it is empty and bare,

A falseness, I feel, for I know something’s there.

Under my rib cage and masked by despair,

There’s a heart that is hurting, in need of some care.

 

I peer through the lens of my own inner eye,

I examine, I probe, I question, I pry,

“What has hurt you today? Oh why do you cry?

Why are you hurting my chest?” I try.

 

A shrug and a murmur and a sad little sob,

“I’m lonely” she says. “I want someone to love.

I have so much to give, I can promise you that.

But no heart that I know of will love me back.”

 

I hold my heart in a warm embrace,

“Oh child,” I say, “so pure and chaste,

I love you with all of my being, my soul.

That’s all that you need. Together, we’re whole.”

An unrequited (uninvited) infatuation.

It’s rather cruel this life we live in black and white, and colour,

The more we have the more we give, the more that we do suffer.

 

The more we learn the less we know, Oh, the irony of knowledge,

An unfair joke, a punchline that we refuse to acknowledge.

 

I’m grieving and I’m sore and I don’t know what to do.

The life I thought I’d have has slipped away from me, it’s true

I’m mourning over something that I never really had,

Except for in my daydreams and imagination… sad.

 

My heart feels bruised beyond repair. The cure I do not know.

No bright future just despair and loneliness and woe…

It all seems rather bleak to me. I’ve waited long enough.

I think I may give up now, all that crap romantic stuff.

 

I know I’m only young ‘cause people tell me all the time

But in my heart I feel as old as hundred-year-old wine

Sitting on a dusty shelf wondering why I’ve been neglected,

Getting weary with the world and sick of being rejected…

 

You see! What happened was that I came to a realisation,

It turns out that they don’t care, a feeling falsification.

I was blinded to this truth, their lack of reciprocation,

My love, an unrequited (uninvited) infatuation.

 

The words were never spoken by them, the feeling not made clear

But their actions, or really lack thereof, confirmed my deepest fear.

They don’t care for me in the same way that I do them,

They probably never have, they just played me on a whim.

 

So now I’m at my senses, clearly I need to move on!

I look forward to the moment when thoughts of them are gone

And to let go of the belief that things might just work out.

I fooled myself, an easy thing to do I’ll never doubt.

 

So with this breath, these words, this text, this poetic finality,

I leave the hopeful lust behind, I set my own heart free.

 

It’s wonderful, the peace it brings, a mind and heart in health,

And the next step in my journey? To learn to love myself.

 

A letter to a loved one

Firstly, may I just say, I love you very much,

That love will never falter, a time-enduring touch

Of hearts entwined together, forever it will last.

Nothing could ever change that; future, present or past.

 

I’m sorry you’re unhappy, it breaks my fragile heart

To see you in your misery, to see you fall apart,

To see the darkness in your eyes and know that I can’t help.

You’ve got to want to live, you know, to want to help yourself.

 

If I could be your crutch, I would, if that is what you need

To help you walk the winding path of life, to take the lead.

If I could be your umbrella, protect you from the storm,

To keep you safe and dry, to always keep you warm.

 

If I could be your angel to guide you through the night,

I would give up everything to help you fight your fight.

If I could be your anchor, and hold on to you tight,

Never would I let you go for fear you would take flight.

 

But you know as well as I, it doesn’t work like that.

There’s a universal rule, an annoying caveat

That strength for change must only come from in your heart alone.

I will of course support you but in truth you’re on your own.

 

My heart is duly breaking to see you in this state,

I don’t believe for one second that this can be your fate.

I’ve had to be so strong for you, for us, for family,

The burden is too much now, it is slowly killing me.

 

So actually I need your help so please meet me halfway,

I need to see you better, become happy day by day.

So that is why I write to you, my heart is on my sleeve,

Let’s work this out together, there’s nothing we can’t achieve.

 

We’ve never lost our faith in you; the leader of our team.

It’s time to start your life again, start living out your dream.

We’re all here to support you in this time that you’re unwell,

Dear dad, I love you very much, I hope you know this well.

Sunday morning

Bleary eyed and fuzzy headed I wake up with a start

And feel the dryness of my mouth and hear the thudding of my heart

Which drowns out unfinished thoughts and the memories of last night

Flashing through my weary brain, withdrawing from the light

That streams in through my windows taunting me with midday sun

So I know I’ve missed the morning, I was out late having fun

Or so that is what the fragments of the visions I remember

Have led me to believe, I think I need to send a

Message to my friends just to check that all’s okay

So hungover paranoia doesn’t haunt me through the day

Like my painful throbbing headache will, reminding me that next week

I must drink a lot more water before I go to sleep,

Oh what I wouldn’t give for a glass of water now

In reach from my pillow, I’m not quite sure how

I can get up from my bed without it, my body mimicking

A sack of slowly hardening cement that’s sticking

To my mattress, I’ll be doomed if I don’t get up soon

Not sure I have the willpower to get up before the moon

Appears tonight, but I must find that will from deep inside me somewhere

Or I’ll slowly turn nocturnal, but I almost do not care

So long as I stay wrapped up in the warm cosy embrace

Of my duvet in my bedroom, my cave, my safe place.

Writers Block

I’m a writer, I’m a poet,
It’s a gift, they say, I know it!
Helps me fine tune all the voices
All the questions all the choices
Running through my busy brain:
Sorting crazy from the sane.
Helping me to find a way
When I’ve had a rubbish day.

 

But today the words won’t come.
Through my fingertips and thumb.
Tapping out a steady rhythm
Forming words into a vision
Giving shape to my emotions
When they feel as vast as oceans,
But today I’ve got to say;
I don’t know what to write. 
Okay?!

A Poem For My Grandma

My grandma died a year ago today, and in the days after her death I wrote this poem, kind of by accident. I woke up one morning with the first few lines in my head, then spent the next 2 days bent over my notebook writing the rest. I ended up reading it out at her funeral.

A few points of information; Zap was her dog who we looked after after her death, but who also sadly passed away this year. And my grandma was an actress and a lover of classical music. She’s been greatly missed as she was a huge part of my family’s lives as she lived just up the road. May she rest in peace.

 

It’s funny, you know, when you think of death;

The last thing you think of is your own blood and flesh;

It happens to your friends, and to the people that you know;

You never think that you’ll know the person that will go.

 

Yes, okay, you have nightmares that haunt you when you wake;

But you pull yourself together and you give yourself a shake;

But this time it is not a dream, it’s very real and true;

I’m pulling, shaking, pinching, waking, it’s not working – it’s no use.

 

She’s gone, she’s really gone I realise, but somehow it’s not right;

We’ve all been robbed, her life was stolen on that awful night;

She wasn’t even ill or sad, there was so much left in her;

We all thought we had years to go, to enjoy her love and laughter.

 

So all that’s left, all that we’ve got, our collective memories;

I’d like to share mine with you now, a moment, if you please.

 

I’ll think of her when Zap looks at me with her big, brown, silky eyes;

Her questioning and searching gaze, waiting, wondering why;

I’ll think of her when I perform to soothe my dreadful stage fright;

She taught me strength and courage through her guidance and advice.

 

She loved to sit and listen to me singing with piano;

My biggest fan, so proud of me, so pleased I loved it so;

I’ll think of her when I hear ClassicFM on the radio;

She’ll live on in every note and song, in every show.

 

She’d want me to play and sing here, but I’m sorry grandma, I can’t;

Too personal with all these people, to reveal my broken heart;

But I promise to always think of her when I play or sing, or both;

In mind and spirit she’ll be there, listening and singing also.

 

Everyone here will hold a dear place for her in their heart;

Everyone will express their grief in their own way and play their part;

But for me, grandma is a song: bold, triumphant and joyful;

With rich, loving chords, a dominant melody, so beautiful and remarkable.

 

She was a source of love and light, of wisdom and support;

A source of laughter, logic, care and of course much more;

I’m so grateful for what she’s given me already, my dear grandma;

She’s shaped me as a person so lives on in me forever.

 

I won’t say goodbye to her, but goodbye for now;

I’ll see her again someday, after life, in death, somehow;

She’ll be watching over us, of that I’m completely sure;

Now I have a guardian angel to protect me evermore.

 

Thank you all for coming and for honouring her life;

A sister, daughter, mother, grandma, friend, girlfriend and wife;

We love her all so very much, that love will never die;

In heaven now, at peace and rest, she’s watching from the sky.