My Mother's Crown

Happy New Years Eve, 
To my followers one and all… wishing you the very best that 2017 has to offer you. You have been dedicated and in my silence you have continued to read and share and I am forever indebted to you.
Much Love Helen x

My Mother's Crown

Each hat I wear

Tis my crown

To draw me tall 

Or weigh me down

Each one important 

Invisible to see

They decide my roles

But don’t depict me

Some bring sadness

Some care and light

Some cause chaos

For my daily fight

But all are worn 

With tiresome pride

On his “Mothers” head

On which they hide. 

By Helen Gasson

December 31 2016

Fair Ellie

Good Evening, 

This poem has been difficult to pen as it is one grown from grief. Grief can be debilitating and knowing that someone you have loved, will always love so deeply can leave you through suicide, makes for an emotional roller-coaster. It is with a heavy heart I share these simple words with you all. I will never know her pain, but I will always remember her warmth. Such a young life, such a mammoth loss.

Fair Ellie

Heart felt emotions prickle my skin

As I try to silence this grief from within

All that I see when I am thinking of you

A rainbow reaching in the brightest of hue’

Each soul that you met so elated by you

By the love that you shone so honest so true

Soft sparkles of sunshine on all that you touched 

Another reason why I love you so much

Boundless energy spilled from each of your pore’

The warmth you shared and we all wanted more

Such sadness you felt in one moment of despair

Has robbed us of you, in this world so unfair

You are cherished and loved by one and by all

Having had you in our lives we all stand so tall

But I struggle Fair Ellie in this absence of you!

By Helen Stallard
February 14, 2016

One Woman

Hello All, 

I think this poem speaks volumes with-out my adding another word. 

One Woman

Lust overwhelms me

The curve of her thigh

Quick breathless movements 

The thrill of her lies

Her deft nimble fingers

Loose frenzied hair

the flick of her tongue

As her scent fills the air

Drinking in her moistness

Our bitter sweet taste

My heavy set heart

As she now leaves in haste

My arms hanging empty

As I replay our sin

How swollen my lips

She’s retreats back to him

Addictive her essence

Seductive her touch

As one woman to another

Am I wanting too much?

In my waking moments 

In crowds I’m alone

I day-dream of her

To make her my own

This dark raven beauty

Spell casting her art

I’m since duty bound

To lift her my heart

By Helen Stallard

August 20, 2015 

Defile Me

Hello Again, 
My second post of the day and possibly not the last. 
The following poem is a powerful reflective piece for me. Life has not always been kind, but life has also offered many healing and helping hands. To all who will feel this poem deeply. Remember that you are not alone and reaching out is the only way forward. 



Defile Me

Victimless crimes for the faceless? 
Voices scream in silent retort
Repulsion felt deep in reflective thought
Try harder and the coward will abate
Stay still and the pounding will stop
Defiling my temple ceaselessly
Love! A meaningless foible
Forgiveness! Your token need
My body will mend, my will... shattered
I am strength, as I remain
You the caitiff, as you transgress
Tis’ your penance to bask in my valour
Your impotence that breeds the abuse

By Helen Stallard
May 17, 2015

A Yearning

Good Afternoon, 
There are many things for which we yearn. Some physical others material, possibly emotional and more. That for which we yearn, is often not what we receive. 

A Yearning

Deep need fills you... A yearning

Enveloping your resistance... A burning

Resolve melts away... A weakening

Chaotic mind... A sequencing

That carnal appetition... A resurrection

One cold touch... A perception

Lust lunges out... A surge

You resist... A purge

By Helen Stallard
May 17, 2015

Man Cave

Hello Again, 

My second poem of the day. Dedicated to a good man and friend. 

Let me know what you think?!

Man Cave

When they look in your studio what do they see?

A man cave, a haven, a male sanctuary?

Beyond the words, the pranks and that green

Dwells his complexity that few will have seen

Of mammoth intellect, learned out of pain

In passion within him held by tight reigns

A man grown of life lessons, hurts and joy

Rooted foundations… from a once wild boy

Deep in his man cave where no one can spy

That cave like a shell he shoulders so high

He screams, he laughs, he shouts and he plays

Here he is safe with the leeches a bay

Caverns like this aren't structures man made

They’re held buried with us to contain all the rage 

So deep in his man cave his dulcet tones ring

This man of men and the guidance he brings 

By Helen Stallard
May 11, 2015

Empty Chalice

Good Evening, 
The creative juices now flow. 
My poem today is a very private one… so I will let you take from it what you will and say nothing more. 


Empty Chalice

When all is finished 

The chalice laid bare
No replenishing liquid
Just cold empty cares

This empty vessel
Still here remains
Devoid of fulfilment
But filled with disdain

By Helen Stallard
May 11, 2015

Bold Contradictions

Hello All, 
Been a while!

The following is a poem about the contradictions in us all. As we impart who and what we are on others. We often don't see our own
complicated ways. It is a beautiful thing to be unique.

Bold Contradictions

In the silence the deafening noise

There in darkness waiting poised

In the light the shadow there cast

Reaching far to cover your past

In the smile that hides the frown

All that is buoyant slowly drowns

In deep hate suffers burning lust

Stopping you, knowing you must

In stillness pounds a beating heart

For all of you is barley one half 

By Helen Stallard
April 21, 2015.

Mr Stokes

Hi All, 

Today's poem is written for someone I admire greatly. I tease him terribly, but I think he is probably used to that by now… at least I hope so. Mr Micheal Stokes is a brilliant photographer who pushes boundaries and ignores his critics. His artistic interpretation and admiration of the naked form is second to none and I never cease to tire of perusing the images he captures through his camera. He is an artist much like myself. Out there, not deterred by others who would seek to dismiss or discredit our works. I push emotional boundaries and he visual ones. 

So Mr Stokes, in honour of your works and continued dedication me smile at the beauty through your lens. I dedicate this small poem to you. Keep inspiring others through your work and don't forget that second selfie. ;) @stokes_photo

Mr Stokes

Deep into his lens they glance

Statuesque in their frozen stance

Masculine moulds this artists goal 

Beauty beyond mere mortal souls

Icons chiseled from toil and sweat

Captivating images we can’t forget

These God like idols to humanity

Not bound by the limits of society

Men of men who’s poise invokes

Each stilled in time by Mr Stokes

By Helen Stallard

November 25, 2015

Josh

Good Morning, 
I have written and re-written this piece many times and at last I have encapsulated my son Joshua. 
This is for you Josh. 

Josh

A cunning smile breaks his face

His dark eyebrow slowly rises

This cheeky chap of my demise

The prankster of surprises

A quiet side hidden away

Your secret place to dwell

It draws them in, captivates

Puts all under your spell

Haunting us, enchanting all

He can test my best resolve

In one quick quip or memory

Maternal barriers do dissolve

Now a man of level mind

From a child I raised alone

You fill my heart with pride

My Son, now man, full grown 

By Helen Stallard
November 23, 2014.

Two

Morning All, 
The following is a tribute to that moment when two people share the most intimate and explosive of moments. A slight play on words here, but I think you will get my meaning. 

Two

Two hearts, one movement 

One motion, two souls

One heartbeat, two seconds

Two moments, one goal

One explosion, two bodies

Two moans, one gasp

Two chuckles, one embrace

One love, two collapse

By Helen Stallard

November 22, 2014

Bitter Seeds

Good Evening, 
I have been so very lax with my blog of late. 
So to make amends I share with you something I have mused over for some time now. A poem I wrote to try to explain why I think we humans harbour and revisit painful memories that we have experienced through others. I personally use them to make me stronger and as a beacon to not inflict such pain on others. 

Bitter Seeds

After the actions those words flow

To deep inside wherein they grow

To tangled weed with twisted stalk

Poisoned words each time you talk

Bitter growth from deep inside

Splits your body-bursts your sides

Out it spews that angered seed

Choking you as vengeance bleeds

Slumped into that wounded heap

Toxic spawn you choose to keep

Grasping at this cruelest past 

Gardening you to make it last

To wallow in your own despair?

Or keep him lingering-beaten there?

To make you stronger day by day

For keeping bitter weeds at bay

By Helen Stallard

November 21, 2014 

One Tiny Smile

Good Afternoon All, 
I have been absent for so long and I have missed my little blog and all your feed back via messages here and mail. Thank you all who voiced concern. It is warming knowing that you thought of me. 

I write this poem to all those parents who find the days of toil long and struggle to juggle with the many hats we must wear. Wouldn't you agree that it is the small things in life that re-charge us. 



One Tiny Smile

The rest bite comes when all is done
This allusive treasure for your just desserts
All cylinders firing for the fruition of your day
Past foibles bring more to burden
Fanciful escapes your only pleasure
One mind chancing a passing moment of solace
Then through all the chaos of your time
One small hand. One tiny smile 
Powers you onward and fuels your strength. 


By Helen Stallard
October 20, 2014

Inside

Good Evening, 
Some of you will know that on occasion I struggle with my mobility. I don't let that hold me back and I certainly don't allow it to alter my duties as a mother. Some view disability as restrictive. Personally I see it as a puzzle to work out and I do so enjoy a good puzzle. 
I am currently mobile, but in the times when I am not and my body fails me… it is then that my strength of mind melts those limitations. In that I have a little help. So I dedicate this poem to Jasmine, Adam, Josh, Jacob, Tegyn, Riley and JJ. They are my constant encouragements and allow me to jest in the face of pain. Thank you all my darling babies. 



Inside

Inside my head I'm always there 
The person who will always care 

Inside my head I'm the constant one
The person who will always be Mum 

Inside my head I see all that you do 
The person who will see you through

Inside my head my bodies not broken 
This person who's actions are spoken 

Inside others heads my body limits me 
But in my head I'm strong and free


By Helen Stallard
September 13, 2014

Dependable

Good Evening,
A small poem I wrote for my husband... my steadfast rock.


Dependable

When the darkness consumes
When the cloud descends
When the end is nigh
On you I depend.

By Helen Stallard
September 7, 2014

The Sea Witch

Good Evening All, 
Todays poem was written in mid August while holidaying in Staithes. I have taken my time editing this one and really feel I have captured the heart of the storm. 

The Sea Witch

She howls her song of captured souls

While crawling from the depth of cold

Grey and dismal she has gained

Her power from their poor remains.

Her tangled locks, lash and whip

As she stalks to a struggling ship

Her tattered, torn mermaids tail

Slices through that bellowed sail

They battle her won’t sate her greed

For seafarers on which she feeds

This angry witch with whom they fight

They battle her this stormy night

Relentless she demands her toll

Toys with them as child with doll

Now diving deep she twitches slimy fin

To turn on them, her accent begins

Screeching through the vice like rip

She pounces on the floundering ship

With salty nails she splits the bough

Slaughtering all, like butchers cow

Her hunger fed now she is done

Back to the depth from whence she’d come

This heartless Sea Witch now has fed

Dragging her haul to a watery bed

By Helen Stallard

September 6, 2014 

From The Shore

Good Morning, 

This poem is for David, Sean and Darren. Dedicated to them as the men I have grown to know and admire. The few last fishing men in Staithes. 

From The Shore

The piecing cry of scattered gull

As the engine turns pulsating hull

Salty sand, peppers weathered skin

As they head from the shore ignoring the din

Masters of the sea, they slice through the surf

As one with her they know her worth

How bountiful a treasure they might find

Then unforgiving in her cold unkind

Testing their skills on Lady Sea 

Breaking her waters wild and free

These fishing men from Northern Shore

Who dance with death they know the score

By Helen Stallard
August 27, 2014

Neptune's Hand

Good Evenings, 
I would like to dedicate this poem to the RNLI life guard crew at Staithes in North Yorkshire especially, but also to RNLI crews everywhere. One life guards words especially inspired this poem. I can only hope that you will see their job as importantly as I do. The RNLI gain no government funding and are run on only public donations. They are truly voiceless heroes.


Neptune's Hand 

Pounding the cliffs this storm does roar
Breaching defences and raping this shore

Toying with boulders as pebbles in hand
Baying white horses threaten this land

These fearless lifeguards cut through waves
As freely this night another life's saved

Howling winds scream into my lungs
Day's dawn breaks and the sea has won

Scattered debris lays spewed on the sand
Now this tide retreats under Neptune's hand


By Helen Stallard
August 27, 2014.

Recompences

Good Morning, 
It's a simple word, but one many struggle with. I always say to my children that sorry is a word often spoken to little and always to late. Sorry is only worth it's salt if you only have to apologise for something once. More than once for the same offence and it becomes nothing other than another word. 

Recompenses

Do you see where you have been?

What you leave upon your wake?

How you impacted on others?

While you made your mistakes!

Move past where you think you are,

Reflection won't mend fences.

That genuine heart felt sorry,

Will build your recompenses.

By Helen Stallard

August 24, 2014.

Tipping Point

Good Evening All, 
This small poem serves me as a reminder that we are not infallible. Be it an allergy, Mother Nature or general deterioration. We are smaller than we care to think.


Tipping Point

A grain of sand - one spec of dust
A spore of mould - one patch of rust
A drop of water - one flake of snow
Can tip the balance and down we go


By Helen Stallard

August 23, 2014