In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Doubters Alert.”
Social media is social.
It’s not. It helps me keep connected to my family and friends far away, but it’s definitely not social.
To be social is to be with someone or others in person and to be able to look into their eyes, be in their presence and connect with them.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mouth Drop.”
My jaw dropped on the evening I gave my husband-to-be a bowl of ice-cream, and he enjoyed it so much he licked the bowl (we were still in the getting-to-know-each-other phase). And then all was explained when we visited his mother a few days later (bless her!), and she did the same! I was so shocked and horrified I couldn’t stop laughing, and I’ve never seen them do that again. It’s a big joke now between my husband and I.
How good is this ice-cream? Bowl-licking good? bwahahahahaha 🙂
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Crush.”
My first crush was a boy by the name of Paul (middle row third from left, age 8). I was standing directly to the left of him. Not looking too happy in my new school. I had a crush on him from the age of twelve. My mother suggested that since it was now 1986 and not the dark ages (#feminism), perhaps I should invite him ice-skating. (Advice I would never give my daughter, men must take the lead!) So I called him (his older sister was friends with my sister so I had access to his landline). He put me on hold so he could go and ask his mother. She said no. At school on Monday he joked about it with the others in the class. (I asked him out, how dare I!) I learnt my lesson well.
Advice to my daughter:
No asking boys or men out! Attract them if you must, but they must pursue! End of story.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Clean Slate.”
The person who lives in my bedroom has no regard for tidiness. Beside the bed is a little lamb standing on top of a gift box. With a tub of authentic African ointment promising to cure any dry or burnt skin ailment next to it. There is also a decorative wooden stand declaring proudly “Mum – a mother’s love is forever”, adorned lovingly with gemstones in front of it, placed there by a loving daughter.
A pile of half-read books stands guard. Consisting of a collection of poetry books, inspirational, short stories, autobiographies and two Maeve Binchies. They all have bookmarks marking the last page read.
And right in the middle of the room is the most comfortable bed ever. It is not too soft nor too hard, but just right!
Good night xx
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take It From Me.”
This morning I feel insecure. It is a feeling inside that makes me feel like I am not anchored. Like I am floating in the wind. Floating higher when winds are light and breezy, and sinking lower when the winds begin to change. Leaving me deflated and questioning everything about myself.
I try and teach my daughter to be the leader of her life. Possess confidence, self-esteem, be secure in herself, not be subject to opinions of others, to know her own mind. So far, she is all of these things. I was too scared to speak to people when I was her age. I’m still reserved in person. I love having others around me. But am reserved in my interactions. My daughter is confident and self-assured – everything I am not. I can grow to be those things too.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mix Tape Masterpiece.”
Hey, you know what paradise is?
It’s a lie, a fantasy we create about people and places as we’d like them to be
But you know what truth is?
It’s that little baby you’re holding, it’s that man you fought with this morning
The same one you’re going to make love with tonight
That’s truth, that’s love
Charlene – I’ve never been to me
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Snapshot Stories.”
A few years ago I was invited to a ’50s Glamour party for a friend’s 40th birthday. My friend was a South African living in Sydney for a few years. We had been friends in South Africa a long time ago. The dress I wore was bought in Johannesburg in December 2000. The party was lovely. That particular friend has the most warm, lovely friendly disposition. She now lives in Cape Town.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”
My favorite toy was a doll my maternal grandmother sent to me from Cape Town. It arrived in a box complete with knitted clothes and bonnet. In Afrikaans they have a lovely word for bonnet – “koppie kappie”. Which directly translated reads a small head covering. It is one of a few items I have kept from my childhood. She is now under my daughter’s protective care.
There is a little musical box embedded into her at the back. A tiny record fitted into it and would play some music. One day the neighborhood boys grabbed my doll and ripped the record out. I remember two of their names. Ryan and Brendan. You have been shamed! I must have been five or younger, as we were living in a house and after that we moved to an apartment. I was five when I broke my collarbone and that happened when I was in the apartment.
I am not a rock. Though sometimes I feel like a stone. I work in IT. One of those rare professions the longer I work in it, the less I seem to know. My husband, on the other hand (bless him), seems to know everything. He is more like a mountain than a rock.
Yesterday I had a particularly harsh day. My husband last night stepped in to try and shed some light into my darkness. Until he finally turned to me and declared, you’re doing that weird thing with your hair again. Yeah, I’m twisting it instead of pulling it out (that happens too!) Can I go write some poetry now? Because passion.
Bubble Dreams coming up!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “I Am a Rock.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Do Not Disturb.”
I don’t blog photos of my children or my husband. I have blogged a baby photo of them each (and my daughter in my post Mud and Fun), I asked my husband first if I could, and he was fine with me doing that. He said they could be any babies really. And in Mud and Fun my daughter is literally covered in mud.
The good thing with poetry is that it is just poetry. Most of my writing is based on what I feel, but at times I tap into moments past for inspiration. I used to publicize on google-plus but my husband used to click on random posts and then quiz me on them. I stopped the publicize except on Twitter and sometimes I post to FB. I could post anonymously but don’t feel strongly that my writing needs to be hidden. I don’t have many skeletons in my closet. I do have a few LOL, hopefully they will stay hidden!
Poems and Petals 