Being a Mother

Good day to you all and thank you for joining me.
The following poem I wrote a long time ago, when I became a mum for the umpteenth time. It's not an easy job and people often see the things we don't do in a day. Not the things we have done. My children are no exception and I still with the three youngest living at home, struggle with how that makes me feel. Being a mother isn't easy and I don't use those words lightly. As being anyone who someone else depends on is hard. Anyhow see what you think.

Being a Mother

Why is it so hard to be a Mother?

When helping one child upsets another!

To spread your self so very thin.

While trying to balance your kith and kin. 

To manage finances that wont grow.

And seeing sad faces when you have to say “No.”

To cook, clean and carry and still be yourself. 

While maintaining decorum and pride in ones-self.

To love all around, when you just need a rest. 

While all other Mummies are looking their best. 

Those thoughts of solitude, that seem to allude.

Become illegal thoughts and something quite crude. 

When all those around you can vent how the feel.

But your thoughts and emotions aren't allowed to be real

We do love our babies I rush now to hasten. 

It’s not easy being the one to chastise and chasten.

Show more thanks for the jobs that we do. 

For the love and life skills that we’ve poured into you.

So remember why it’s hard being a Mom. 

Because for the jobs that we do we have to be strong. 

By Helen Stallard 
February 20   2014

The Hairdressers Curse.

Afternoon All and welcome to another day in the poetical life of my crazy mind.

The following poem was partly inspired by a friend of mine Tom. He is my hairdresser and today he has worked wonders with my locks. As always we spend our entire time nattering on about this and that and I took this poem along to share with him. 

I trained as and was a hairdresser, many light years ago and it frustrated me how people would walk in and demand a specific cut. Advise as you might, they could be most insistent in their demands. Crazy to try to make someone have a Lady Diana cut, when they have straight hair. Anyway, read and enjoy. Humour is the best form of therapy. 

The Hairdressers Curse

No one can know how in a hairdresser world.

How a disaster is made by the tiniest curl.

When one stray hair like a sentry will stand.

Creating frustration - for perfectionists hands.

When your clients request the latest fashion cut.

You give it your best - but there is always a But...

For your customer has nape whirls or cows licks.

Then even the grandest of trims will not sit.

So next time at the salon - cut your stylist some slack, 

Be realistic with them the next time you go back. 

Listen to your stylist in rhyme, chapter and verse. 

Don’t make yourself the hairdressers curse.

By Helen Stallard 
February 19  2014

The Beast Inside

Good Afternoon Everyone,
The following piece was hard to pen and harder to share. I am aware that spousal rape is real and very much alive out there in the world - in all walks of life and all cultures and not just targeted at females. There are males out there who are also subjected to this crime. My intention is not to offend here, but share and open peoples eyes to the turmoil of emotions you feel, when abused by someone you love and trust. It is hard to bear the scars of any un-consensual  inter-coarse, but it is even harder to move on and hold your head high. Be aware that you are not alone and reach out for help and support.

The Beast Inside

Contorting with pain, from their sexual gain

Their wanton pleasure, as they show no refrain

Blinded in their anger, you reside in that cage

Of a life that consumes, you're trapped by their rage

Licking your wounds, in your child like caress

Replacing the straps, on the shreds of your dress  

The pain in your heart, bringing thoughts of anew!

You love this beast, but you can’t see it through

Your wounds will recover, yourself you must fend

The power with-in them, they will bring you your end

So your wounds will recover, but never your scars

Those shattered emotions… are cut deeper by far

By Helen Stallard 
February 18,  2014.

Gail

Good afternoon,

I was commissioned by a dear friend of mine to write the following piece… She adores her ink work and wanted to express herself in words on her own skin. Not only do these few words encapsulate her as a wonderfully dynamic person - they also epitomise how colourful and non judgemental she is. It is inspiring to see my words on her skin and flattering to me, that someone can trust me so much with something so very personal. Thank you Gail, much love.

Gail

Look beyond what you see.

To rise through your judgement.

Entwined in my colour.

To shine brightly in your darkness.

By Helen Stallard
February 17  2014

Mr O

Good-morning all,
I neglected to write and intro for this piece yesterday. A busy day for me celebrating with my family… As my son played rugby at the Leicester Tigers Ground. A proud mummy moment. Anyway I digress, so back on track. The following piece was written for a great friend of mine. I would write more about him, but he would not thank me for it. Most will assume there is a romantic connection here, but there is not such. See what you think...

Mr O

Secretly we  converse,
Silently we wish to embrace.
My beautiful, intriguing Mr O
Where ever you are,
My desires choose to go
My tempting Mr O.


By Helen Stallard
February 16 2014

Move Maker

Good evening,
Here, I have written a snip it about internet-dating. There are so many stories, sites and adverts regarding it. That I felt compelled to pen a little something. Now it has been many years since I was in the dating game and when I was, internet dating was in it's infancy… frequented by frustrated males hoping for a quickie. How things have changed and internet dating has as many good points now, as it does bad ones. All that is left to say to you is. Stay safe out there people.

Move Maker

She senses his presence, before her eyes settle on the vision of him. An attraction beyond reason. A play with words that responsive bodies devoured. Slow drips of emotional energy, stirring a dance with fanciful tensions. Apprehensions, heightening the encounter. Rushing memories of typed words, thrown into that frustrated vortex. The suspense. The desire. The searching. The playfulness. The exaggerations. Will he be the one who fans those sexual embers … Igniting her desires in real time? A dalliance with an unknown - as she masquerades in her alter ego. 


By Helen Stallard 
February 15  2014

Lust

All around me today I am distracted by tokens of love for valentines. However, it lead me to think of my own past infidelities and what I like to call love crimes. No-one is perfect, but some use the poorest excuses to be unfaithful. I am sure some will never admit to their infidelities…

Lust

Then there were two, two faces interlocked.

Engaged... Bereft of awareness.

Falling into the pleasures of one another.

Twisting and contorting.

Toward that bottomless pit of carnal desire.

Deprived of the passion that embraces them.

They interlock and so it is.

A thoughtless engagement.

For the fruitless pursuit of lust.

Empty of real emotions.

Void of love in those minutes.

Minutes to hours and then.

Regret!

Engulfing you like pitch back.

The darkness off the eternal damned.

What would they do?

The other.

The one you think you love.

Love is a challenge.

In that you find life.

Where you find pain and happiness.

Do you feel for them?

No you feel for yourself.

The real deed is selfishness.

Who is the guilty one?

You the seeker of lust!

By Helen Stallard 
February 14  2014