for my son

my child
even as you grow
in age
in height
in shoe size!
know this
you are still
my baby boy
and despite
your need for privacy
your shrinking from
kiss hug hair-tidies
I think of you
I love you
you are worth
earth moon and stars
you are precious
perfectly you
as you are
and as you will be
believe me
believe in yourself


hollowed out
the aftermath
of a storm
that swept through
trashing my opinion
of myself
breaking me up
into tiniest pieces
now all is numb
feeling nothing
just weary
sunken eyes
like a survivor
of a shipwreck
I float here
clinging onto
the one thing
keeping me afloat
and wait
for the sun
to come out again

Inner Voice

[Note: I am so unsure about posting this. It may not make sense. It may not quite rhyme. It may sound deranged. But then, maybe others feel the same. So maybe its worth exposing my inner demons so you don’t feel so strange. If you’re reading this I got brave and pressed Publish!]

I have an inner voice
its a nasty little tyke
it hangs around and points and laughs
and mutters mean things like
‘you are worthless’
‘you don’t deserve this’
through my internal mic

I try to ignore and trust,
but the voice, it gets so hooty
until the saboteur I must
become, destroy emerging beauty

I have learnt it doesn’t last
and turns to rust so quickly
until you find you’re living
in an awful life so sickly
and years roll onwards past the wall
and was love ever there at all?

The voice says it is all your fault
you made him love you less
you drove him mad, exasperated
made him look for fun and mess
when you were just so dull and boring
worried about bills while he was snoring

And I look at myself and feel that it’s true
and the avalanche starts and I sink in the blue

I’m unlovable, ugly, unexciting and lame
I’m nothing to nobody, worthless, deranged
and no one will ever be calling my name
with a soft gentle sound and a tenderness clear
and holding me close and loving me near
and wrapping me lightly with love and with care
and loving me for what I am even where
I am crazy, irrational, maddening, stupid
What on earth would possess silly old cupid
to shoot arrows there?

But you say you’re not running away
and I stop still and stand with a sway
and I stare at you shocked and afraid
and I just can’t believe you have stayed