Poems by Wendy Jordan

A COLD LONELY PLACE.
 
In the still moment of truth no where to hide,
Of the awakened soul to whom we confined.
Liberation from chains that hold us down,
That kept our masked faces taught with a frown.
The density of sadness holding us firm back,
With no colourful views all around is so black.
Casting out shadows from our made up illusions,
Reality appearing like nothing but mixed confusions.
Everywhere is walls with bricks stacked so high
Crouched wrapped in a corner breathing out with a sigh.
Freedom from straights where is my beloved faith,
Feeling tired and invisible like a long lost wraith.
Empty and exhausted after running this marathon,
My deepest love, my love where have you gone?

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SENSE'S
 
Stop for a while take stock of your thoughts,
Examine what you see for they have not been bought.
Listen to the voice from inside yourself,
As we all well know we are not by ourselves.
Look with your eyes for what you can see,
As we open up ourselves for there is no fee.
Open your mouth and speak from your heart,
You'll be surprised what you say as the flow will now start.
Touch with your hands the flesh that you feel,
Encompassing the warmth that you both will seal.
Smell with your nose the aromas that surround,
As your memory clicks on to the ones you have found.
Taste with your mouth and the pallet of your tongue,
The delicious delicacies of life that's so strong.
With all of these put together they add up to life force,
As everyday we're alive its like a seven dinner course. 

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OUR GARDEN WALL
 
The sun is out the wall not built,
Ground stone dry and flowers wilt.
Open pores with dripping sweat,
This planned target has to be met.
Shabby bricks lie in a heap,
Cleaned and stacked for us to keep.
A fence pulled down a space is seen,
Eye to eye we're ready and keen.
Mixed cement that's drying out quick,
This bloody wall had better stick.
Buzzing bees and bugs that bite,
Gasping thirsts to complete this height.
Two rows up the bricks are level,
Having a laugh you cheeky devil.
Second opinion there's a slight bow,
But hey just wait till you see the patio.
First wall built we now have the knack,
Admiring the view as we both stand back.

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GLAUCOMA.
 
The view is all hazy I can barely see,
It stops me from being the person I want to be.
This disease is frightening as I stumble around,
My eyes don't protect me anymore I have found.
With a drop in here and a drop in there,
A long time I've had this and it certainly isn’t fare.
Year by year it gradually gets worse,
It's a living hell and a terrible curse.
Regularly up the hospital to have them checked,
When I get home my body feels wrecked.
A problem when writing my name on the line,
It's a simple task yet I struggle to sign.
The light hurts these eyes as well as the sun,
It stops me from being happy and having some fun.
Living in the shadows in a darkened room,
I'm frustrated and angry, inside I want to fume.
What is to become of me as I slowly go blind,
This glaucoma's driving me crazy and out of my mind.

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MY MUMS YESTERYEARS.
 
My mum and me sat together one night. I said to her lets writing a poem together. Talk to me about whatever is close in your heart and this is what she said. These are all her words I just put it into poetry format. I read this out at her funeral. Miss her so much.
 
Those days long gone my memory's never fade,
Of my childhood years of when I was parlour maid.
Those times were hard yet the respect was more,
For our dear parents and elders we adored.
That quaint little village with a friendly atmosphere,
Everyone knew all as I look back shredding a tear.
So happy in those days no one ever got bored,
When the sun shone out and even when it pored.
A busy little place no one ever seemed to stop,
Farmers working all hours with the animals and crop.
Two churches stand facing by Lord Stafford's Hall,
My father in the belfry ringing the bells I recall.
By hand he dug the graves that were under his feet,
In the cemetery around the church that were kept very neat.
A little cobbled street where we lived down early lane,
We were very down to earth people not posh only plain.
Six days every week we worked hard for a living,
And thanked God on Sabbath for the life we'd been given.
I remember the laughter those days were such fun,
Playing in hay barn and in the fields we use to run.
That was sixty years ago yet I remember it so clear,
Times gone so quickly where on earth did it disappear?

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WHAT WAS IN STORE?
 
My weeks been hectic from start to finish,
Body aches and my energy was to diminish.
Flooding the bathroom after flushing the loo,
Stressed and panicking what on earth am I to do.
That was on Tuesday what else was in store.
Always something happening it's never a bore.
Emptying my bedroom as a carpet was to be laid,
Dropped a cupboard on my foot then I needed first aid.
That was on Wednesday what else was in store,
With a bruise on my foot oh God it was so sore.
Work's been so busy doing more than one job,
A truck over my other foot now that one was to throb.
This was on Thursday what else was in store,
My language has been terrible on many occasions I swore.
A baby blackbird was caught by next doors cat,
Unable to fly as we told that moggy to scat.
Stuck in the hedge was that poor little bird,
Now it was dark we struggled undeterred.
That was Thursday night what else was in store,
Oh please no more mishaps I don't want anymore.
Working Saturday morning then home for a rest,
Nodding off in the sun to wake to a red chest.
This has been my week that's what was in store,
I find this all amusing now I'm burnt right to the core.
A surprise was to happen above all this capper,
As my poem was printed in the sentinel newspaper.

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BINGO
 
Its nice to see someone happy were their first words to me,
It takes a lot to get me down was my reply back to thee.
I'm standing by the way side as life carry's on,
After the entire mental ness and the cruel goings on.
The many pieces to the puzzle all fit into place,
After searching and thinking to save this one face.
I was so sure all along this person that I am,
Was perfectly normal as all around me was a sham.
This road many times has been lonely and dark,
It certainly was no picnic in a sweet smelling park.
Blinded by a light with a breath of fresh air,
I use to feel lucky being wooed into their lair.
It's all about control and insecurity’s that are,
I'm definitely not stupid because I'm clever by far.
After questioning the years the answers are clear,
They struggle with their eyes because they deeply fear.
>From pillar to post then from heaven to hell,
They nearly destroyed me to the core of my well.
With rose coloured glasses that tint was too strong,
On meeting that man how love could be so wrong.
All my questions are answered, and the truth stands tall,
You can have your rubbish back; I truly hope you have a ball.
They always said they loved me yet they made me feel so blue,
On looking at the evidence I doubted what they say to be true.
Thank you for the good times as well as the very bad,
Over those years together I felt less happy and more sad.
So goodbye to this man and may God bless your soul,
Whilst you sit in remorse in your tiresome drinking hole.

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THE NIGHT.
 
Relaxed on my wooden seat late into the night,
Towering before me a sycamore that quite a height.
A candle flickers beside me as I sip wine from my glass,
Wondering whose about on the newly mowed grass.
Moths dart past rushing into the bright light,
This is one of the best times in the middle of the night.
At brief intervals a breeze brushes past over my face,
As shrubs sway and dance with endless grace.
The leaves make a sound of a very distant ocean,
Swirling inside me an inner peace and calm emotion.
This moment should be felt for your soul will recall,
Of this serene tranquil feeling, as it’s always free to all.

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SERENDIPITY.
 
This poem is the last one in my book that I published and it speaks for itself. My poetry was by accident and I have never written anything in my life before this. Life has some very interesting and unexpected twists sometimes.
 
A word kept appearing a few years ago,
So I looked up its meaning because I didn't know.
Serendipity's the name it's now my favourite word,
Meaning a happy accident in the future that occurred.
The film I bought a couple years as of late,
It's about our destiny and life long fate.
The man talks of Cassiopeia to the woman he met,
Of a star constellation in the sky that is set.
It's in the shape of a W the letter of my name,
I wonder with my poems if I'll ever find fame?

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