Nothing Is Happening

Nothing is happening, is it?
Shop for food, carefully,
And go to the pharmacy.
We call it the chemist here.

Exercise is permitted once a day
But stay close to your home.
Run around your garden
Or possibly your yard.

You can visit the petrol station,
That’s gas, if you aren’t British.
Though if you are American
You’d say I’m English.

It isn’t quite accurate.
But in the circumstances
English is close enough.
Nothing is happening, is it?

It’s not too late

To make it happen, dream – don’t wait.
Breathe life into it, give it shape.

Create the person that you seek,
This is the lover you shall meet.

You need a purpose in your life,
So dream it now as hope soon dies.

There is a magnet pulling you,
Your dream-world person seeks you too.

To make it happen, dream – don’t wait.
Yes, share your life. It’s not too late.

To live again

I read his words
At least three times
And each time ask
What’s in those lines?

His past, the pain
of love that failed,
A present filled
With hope now paled.

These things I see
And many more,
He wants something
He had before.

He’s had enough
Of silent pain,
He just wants love
To live again.

For SD. I pray that you find love and happiness.

Early In The Morning

What is it like
Early in the morning?
Just you and the birds
And the rising sun.

Wind stirs the cherry tree
And your memories.
Do you remember
The life that you once had?

Children played on the swing
In the rising sun.
Wind stirred their golden hair,
Caressed a lost world.

What is it like
Early in the morning?
Just you and the birds
And your memories.

Father

It’s colder today
The clouds have come back

I saw him last night
His hate in my dreams

Death did not release
The clutch of his fear

It’s cold in my heart
The clouds have come back

This is a guest post by a survivor

Love’s Burden

I lift weights.
To look good,
To feel well.

I lift weights.
To be strong,
To carry on.

I lift weights.
To put down,
To feel light.

I lift weights.
Am I strong?
Am I light?

I lift weights.
With empty hands,
With empty heart.

I lift weights.
Each year’s day,
Each day’s hour.

I lift weights.
Of my losses,
Of my dreams.

The Day Before You Came

I must have made coffee
At half past eight that day,
Then read the news by nine o’clock,
The weather forecast too.
It surely rained as always,
The day before you came.

I must have breakfasted at ten o’clock
Washed flakes with cold, white milk.
At eleven pushed myself,
With exercise, weights or something else.
Played music, cleaned the house,
The day before you came.

At twelve or so, I just don’t know,
Perhaps I watched the rain.
After that I must have checked
The faces on a dating page.
Of course they never changed,
The day before you came.

I must have lunched at one o’clock
And lunch for one it was.
At two I cleared my paperwork,
I hate to fall behind.
All done and in its place,
The day before you came.

I must have started writing
At three o’clock or so.
This poem, maybe more,
I wrote of love of course.
I’d forgotten how it feels,
The day before you came.

At five o’clock or soon beyond,
I’m certain that my work was done.
I must have made my evening meal,
Nothing special, much the same.
Then watched TV an hour or two,
The day before you came.

I must have gone to bed at ten,
I never stay up late.
The only voice a spoken book,
Another chapter of the same.
And yes, I’m sure I felt a sense
Of living without aim.

The day before you came.


Inspired by The Day Before You Came © 1982 ABBA

You Don’t Get Lonely, Do You?

“You don’t get lonely, do you?” she asserts. I am dumbstruck, fumbling to put together a credible reply. She’s a close friend, we’ve known each other for years. Perhaps that’s the problem. I believed we knew each other well but she is simply wrong, so wrong. If she really believes what she is saying then she does not “know” me at all.

Of course I get lonely sometimes, we all do. So lonely it burns. That she can’t perceive this astonishes me, but then I ask myself why. Is it something in her, perhaps a lack of insight or empathy? Or is it me? Maybe I hide things well, even if I am not consciously aware of doing it. It makes some kind of sense to keep one’s innermost fears and secrets hidden behind a facade. We all have things that we feel shame about and we don’t like to be judged upon them.

There’s something else I must tell you about. Jealousy. There is something in her tone of voice that gives it away, a bitterness, a hint of resentment that colours her words. It’s as if she is saying “You don’t get lonely, do you? I do. It’s not fair.”

There’s no time to go off on an “it’s not fair” tangent. She’s still waiting for my reply. “I do get lonely sometimes,” I admit, “but I like to spend some time alone too.” It is the best that I can do. A pathetic little admission, followed up with an even more pitiful attempt to rationalise it.

Does she know me? Do I know me? I used to think so… now I’m not so sure.

Image © 2018 Shona Silverman.

Waiting For You

Restless in body and restless in mind,
Waiting to hear words from you.

I know why it happened and what I did wrong,
Jumped in, defences too few.

Addiction was fast and I did not resist,
Withdrawal a cruel retreat.

Uncaring, heartless, you think you are strong,
Silence reflects your conceit.

Walking to wash out your drug from my head,
Waiting to hear words from you.

I Look For You

I look for you, where are you now?
I seek your face, repeat your name.
Intelligent, a man with flair,
With skilful touch but selfish game.

A handsome face that let me down.
I can’t hate you, my fault I’m lonely
A complex man, so special, rare.
You’re still my favourite “if only”.

He Waits For Me

I watch TV, he waits for me.
I want to be back there.

I send a message on my phone,
I might be coming round.

I can’t be sure, I have to wait,
Is that ok with you?

Of course it is, he lies barefaced,
Come over when you can.

I hate to keep him holding on,
It’s such a silly game.

I wish the demons wouldn’t fight
A war waged in my head.

They tie me down with ropes unseen,
He must not see my shame.

I watch TV at night and wait
To go back there again.

A companion piece to Waiting For Him.

Waiting For Him

I watch TV and wait for him,
Maybe he’ll come tonight.

The actors move and speak in turn,
It’s clean and tidy, no mistakes.

A message on my phone tells me
He might be coming round.

He can’t be sure, he has to wait,
Is that ok with me?

Of course it is, I lie barefaced,
Come over when you can.

Real life is never clean and tidy,
No-one waits in turn.

It’s messy and confusing,
I am powerless in this game.

So I just watch TV at night
And wait for him to come.

A companion piece to He Waits For Me.

 

Rain Of The Heart

Merciless drought, cruel, uncaring
Drying, dying, despairing

An unforeseen downpour of rain
Rescued from drought once again

Rescue will come with a start
Love is the rain of the heart

I hope you enjoy the many subtle connections made here.
Even I had to read through it several times to see them all – and I wrote it!
Shona.

Valium And Vodka

She’s crying at midnight.
Sick with loss,
Crying for sleep.

Crying for sleep,
The only way out
Is valium and vodka.

The day is no longer young.
Sick with tears she awakes,
Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed
And all that’s left
Is valium and vodka.

This Is My Rose

This is my rose.
Last week it wasn’t there. Last month the bush was bare.

This is my world.
Last week I danced in the rain. Last month was filled with pain.

This is my heart.
I could give it to you. Would you remain true?

 

Don’t Give Up

How many times must you fail before you give up?

Of course that’s a silly question without any context. Give up what, exactly? It makes all the difference. If you were searching for a missing ball-point pen, or maybe trying to catch a spider in your living-room, then it might be quite reasonable to give up after a couple of attempts. A lost pen or a harmless spider doesn’t matter very much, does it? When you take a broad view, these things are quite trivial and soon forgotten.

Some things in life really do matter. A lot. Consider all the romantic connections you’ve had in your life. Now we’re are talking about something that is important to most people and I think I’d be safe enough in guessing that you feel the same. Think back. You had teenage flings of course. This was just the starting point, training at the Love Boot Camp and intensively developing your skills. The love you felt in your twenties was something different. Profoundly deep, compelling, overwhelming. So powerful that you married him.

Nearly half of marriages end within 15 years. Ok, so there’s more than one way to measure divorce rates but I don’t wish to get bogged down in such debates. Let’s just agree that divorce is a thing and it happens a lot. For better or for worse, never mind for richer or for poorer, marriage simply isn’t what it used to be.

lonely man ocean-2787669_1920 smlSo what comes after your divorce? Is it time to give up now? That’s the easy option but it’s far from satisfying. Envisage the lonely years that would stretch ahead of you. Instead of throwing in the towel, it’s time to start dating again. Argh, it’s so much more difficult now! Where have all the good men gone?

Despite the challenges, you do go on a few dates. Romances develop, they blossom for a little while but soon wilt. Back to square one, again and again. Failure upon failure. The months go by, hope is displaced by despair. Now you really do feel like giving up.

friends people-2561065_1920 smlA friend called me last night and I told her everything. I told her about the lost love, the hope and the despair. I told her that I just didn’t have the energy to keep on trying. I was fed up, jaded. Enough was enough. “Don’t give up,” she said softly. Good advice from a wise friend.

Unlike a cheap ball-point pen, you can’t nip out and buy another lover. And without that lover, you’ll just have to have another go at catching the spider yourself. No-one said it would be easy. Just don’t give up.

Loneliness

The hours come first.
Pretending I will heal
Today or tomorrow.
Wounding loneliness.

Days add up.
Seven make a week.
A week alone.
Bitter loneliness.

Weeks pile upon weeks.
Four weeks more
Is another month.
Crushing loneliness.

Months are fragments.
The jigsaw of time
That forms my years.
Burning loneliness.

 

Please don’t let loneliness win. Go out, meet people, make friends.
Yes, it’s hard. Sure, you have no energy and I know it didn’t work out last time you tried.
It’s still not too late. Do it now. This time it will be different.

Above all, be kind to yourself.

Shona x

She Sits Alone

She sits alone all day
And looks out of the window.

A window dusted with snow,
quietly waiting for spring.

Spring warms the garden,
yellow daffodils blink in surprise.

Surprised by the heat of summer,
she opens the window and cries.

She cries and her tears fall
with the autumn leaves.

She sits alone all day
And looks out of the window.

Copyright © Shona Silverman 2018

 

 

 

 

 

Green and Blue

A dream, green and blue,
of waves kissing the shore.
Warm breeze-tousled hair,
fingertips touching my face.

I loved him and he loved me,
his jade eyes searching, knowing.
I was happy for a little while
in my dream of green and blue.