The power of a Parent

The power of a parent

To build them up or knock them down

The power of a parent

To create happy human beings

The power of a parent

Is sometimes highly in doubt

But the parent has lots of power

Of that there is no doubt

A parent who follows up

When that teacher rings home for bad

Has just made a difference

Positive and well accepted

A parent who does nothing

After the same phone call

Tells the student – “I do not care

About you much at all”

I thank my deity every day

My parents had good power

And used it in many different ways.

A War you don’t want to win

You are dead to the world

No one sees you

And those who know you

Don’t seem to care.

You fight the world

At every turn

It doesn’t care

One child,

Lost.

Battling living

A war you fight

But you don’t want to win

Just stop and let someone help you

Just stop and let someone in.

But you know

You have known for years

That letting some one in

Hurts you more in the end.

No friend to you

“He’s my friend”

“He just hit you”

“He’s my friend”

“He pushed you into a bush”

“He’s my friend”

“He held you down”

“He’s my friend”

“He’s no friend to you”

“She talked to me”

“You did not hear the nasty”

“She sat beside me willingly”

“So she could find more ammunition”

“She laughed with me”

“She laughed at you”

“She’s my friend”

“She’s no friend to you.”

Teens with ASD*

Sometimes have it rough

Unable to determine

Niceness and friendship

From the rot.

How can you tell a child

Desperate for some friends

That some who offer friendship

Are not doing it to be friends.

*ASD – Autism Spectrum Disorder – a condition along a spectrum where people’s brains are wired differently. This makes it very hard for people with ASD to pick up social cues. For more information click here.

The victory of the Legs

I am a haphazard creature

I exercise some days;

Some days a walk

Some days an almost jog

Some days hiding out at home – pretending weights

This day I amble along quite rapidly

A bit faster than my normal speed.

Hill Number 1 is done quite well

Three more of the buggers to go

‘Have a jog’ my brain suggests

All the other parts concur

I huff and puff and pant away

My back it is complaining

My feet are thudding – it can’t be good

The knees are the only ones happy with the jog.

‘That worked well’ – I say to them, trying to inspire them

‘Let’s go again – I’m feeling fine.’

Still puffing up Number 2

‘Such a liar’ my brain replies.

As we reach the top.

My brain – it can’t tell me what to do so

I huff and puff and pant away – down the other side

My back it is a aching

My feet are thudding – it can’t be good

But my knees are not yet complaining

Then to my complete surprise

My legs start moving faster

‘Stretch it out’ they seem to yell to me

My lungs start arguing with thee

‘You stupid legs, we can’t keep up, we’re stopping now’

‘Oh no you’re not!’

The legs win for a few more meters

The distance flies beneath me

Then the lungs win out and take me back

The momentum stops.

As do I.

I am now somewhere far away

From the top of Hill Number 2

And my brain is secretly quite pleased

With my legs little victory.



The silent child

He sits in the middle

And doesn’t say a word

A shrug – his answer to every question.

He sits in the middle

And hides from the world

Slumped shoulders – not wishing to be seen.

He sits in the middle

No life signs from this one

Just let him go – no one wishes to to know.

He is the silent child

Flying so far under the radar

Do not see him – his eyes beg today.

In a rickety old chair

This photo draws me in

It is not one of beauty

A woman sits contemplating

Maybe she is just exhausted

Or maybe she seeks to hide

In the mist on her Indian hill side

The mist hints of beauties

I cannot yet hope to explore

Of hidden towns and creatures

Of treasures yet to find

Yet the woman sits contemplating

In a rickety old chair

And the foreground of dirt

Makes me think of plain old life

There is no richness of money

There is no perfection here

There is just a woman

Dirt, grass and mist

In a rickety old chair

Thanks to Sarah Coultis for the photo – I really do love this photo 🙂

The thing with Tarot

You see the thing with Tarot

Is you always have to ask

The right question

Or you’ll get

The wrong answer

Tarot is a clever spirit

She does not like the flippant

She will not tell you the winner

Of any reality TV show

Tarot is deep and meaningful

She really does like the serious

So when you ask something important

She’ll answer with what you need to hear.

For those of you who are interested – a great Tarot reader is Liz of Intuitive Insight. She really does very good readings.

Tracks

What a busy highway

This tree is

The tracks are never ending

Seamlessly they merge

Into one chaotic mess

Up and down

This way and that

What busy lives

The creatures of this tree

Lead.

The old man

Stooped and still

Fishing the lake

The old man never moves

Day in

Day out

Rain, storms or shine

The old man never moves

One day – perhaps

He’ll succumb to the stoop

And drop into the waters beside

But I hope the old man

Has many years yet

Of fishing and stillness to go

Excuses

I lie in bed waiting

Waiting to get the time

To go for a jog, a run, a walk

But instead I lie in bed.

The weather will be hotter later

I’ll walk this afternoon

Get your backside up and shoes on

I’ll do something around noon.

I’ll use the exercise bike

I’d actually rather row

There are some weights out there waiting

Pity that machine is broken.

One of these days I’ll stop making excuses

And actually get ready to go

Oh that’s today, I sit here in exercise clothes

Writing poetry instead – you know.

© KJ Eastwick 2019