Poetry, Uncategorized

A Thank You: And Some Poetry

I just wanted to take a quick moment to thank you all. I want to thank those that are new to reading my blog. I especially want to thank those that follow my blog and continue to be patient with me for more content.

As I may have mentioned in previous posts, I’ve been dealing with mental health issues over the last year or so (and by that, I don’t just mean my usual ‘anxiety’ but depression on top of it). It’s been overwhelming, to say the least, and I haven’t been able to create anywhere near what I wanted to when I first set up this blog.

I’m continuing to fight it and try my best to bring out quality posts that can help, inspire or just make people smile. I know many of us could do with something to make us smile after the last two years.

Before I started my therapy session yesterday, I decided, on a whim, to check the statistics on this blog and was amazed to see the uptake in views (specifically on my SortedFood Review). Because of all of you, reading my content, I managed to go into a session I had been dreading with a bright smile on my face. I know it’s not much. I know that, compared to the people pulling in the big numbers, I’m only a little fish really– but, honestly, I don’t care how many fish are in the bond– I’m just so happy to see you all there. You’re all so special to me, and I wanted to let you know that. Thank you and I hope– and I really do mean this– that I’ll be able to provide you with more content soon.

(Also, apologies for any errors in this post. I’m writing this whilst not being able to sleep for the can’t-even-count-how-many-weeks-in-a-row-of-not-being-able-to-sleep).

And now I present you, some poetry all about Spring:

Spring-Loaded Daffodils

Twisting, twirling towards the sun,

Under darkened skies and howling winds,

Three green spikes, sharp and strong

Force their way out melting ground

To sing to skies with force and grace:

Single sun-worshipping flowers,

 multiplied on many stems.

A Distant Spring

Water trickles down.

Life bustles busily besides it’s leafy banks.

Sold for profit by greedy hands,

Bottled and drained, now dry and brown,

It crackles underfoot as the Earth cries.  

Lawrence Alma-Tadema: ‘Spring’

Romans breathe life in painted sheets,

Cheering, bellowing, shouting on cobbled streets,

As the procession moves swiftly under painted blue skies

Listening to the whistles of surveyors with painted eyes.

Latin words sketched and etched on fake-marble posts

As painted people on balconies put their hands up to toast

A painted Spring founded on a poet’s words,

A celebration of the seen but never heard.


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