The Velvet Glove

Good Afternoon,
I write this poem with a heavy heart, knowing I was failed and have failed due to depression. Nothing is an insurmountable brick wall and acceptance is the first part of healing.


The Velvet Glove

When memories return
Trickle through the cracks of my resolve
Then painful confusion
As they all start to stir... revolve
Those punishments you deemed as fit to deliver
Haunt the child in me and she begins to quiver
Observing my siblings, baring your wrath
No memories now of the sound of your laugh
The coldness in your eyes, the darkness in your heart
Brings childhood dreams of which I can't depart
These thoughts that provoke a repulsion in me
Of a person I disliked and will never strive to be
Wishes then sent to my lord above
Were of you donning a velvet glove!
As I child I could have never known
Back then you sat, on depressions 'Grimm' throne.


By Helen Stallard
March 18, 2014

A Contradiction

Good Evening, 

Today's poem is about the contradictions in relations. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed penning it. 

A Contradiction

The sun in the night sky

The moon in brilliant sun

The joy in your frown

The sadness in your fun 

The dryness of the water

The honesty in the sly 

The coldness in your warmth

The laughter in your cry

The stillness in the movement

The swaying in the rock

The haste in your slowness

The calmness in your shock 

The beauty in the beast

The cloud in empty skies

The feral in your tameness

The truth within your lies

The fullness in the hunger

The ending in the start

The loving in your cruelness

The stillness of your heart

The empty in the fullness 

The bitter in the sweet

The curtness in your softness

The coolness of your heat   

The open in the closed

The lacking in the great

The sadness in your smile

The loving in your hate

By Helen Stallard

March 16, 2014

Carnival Meadow

Hi All, 

Today's post takes me to a place I nick named Carnival Meadow. A place as a child I found solitude and an abundance of wonder. 

Carnival Meadow

The yellow gold amongst the trees,

In still silence, but for buzzing bees.

Plush meadow stretching far and wide,

A gurgling brook that frames one side.

Red Admirals flit from bloom to bloom,

On this sweet meadow they do festoon.

Pink and whites and tangerine hughes, 

A carpet of flowers with speckles of blue.

Each footstep scatters and army of life, 

Spiralling upwards in distress and strife.

Delicate scents fill the warmed air,

of Carnival Meadow with flowers so fair.

By Helen Stallard

March 15, 2014

Gathering Strength

Good Evening, 

The following poem is for those who have been bullied. I felt trapped and recoiled into my own fantasy world when I was bullied. Now I thank those who bullied me for enabling me and as the poem reads, it made me strong and determined to do well. 

For anyone out there, young or old who is a victim of bullying… own it. Take that negative energy and envelope it in positive energy. 

Gathering Strength

I am the one who sees not joins

Not to be seen seeing, but looking on

I am as visible to them as oxygen

As I skirt about their peripherals

Mostly ignored yet always there

Unless they choose to toy with me

Then I am flesh for the taking

Only for their pleasure, entertainment?

Then I am fair game - ridiculed, persecuted

Pushed and poked

I assume a silent persona then

The persona of one who is emotionless

Unfeeling to guard myself; yet inside

Oh if you could read my eyes

They are alive with hate and revenge

An all consuming need

To take back what once was mine

A life so lost it is beyond recognition

Contorted with wicked thoughts

The best plans are those pondered in time

Everything that I am will come to consume them

For every passing comment and jibe

Each hit and humiliation

Pay back’s a bitch

Until then you use me, making me stronger

Once I have gathered my strength

There will be a storm force warning! 

Until then...

I am the wind moving about you

You know I am there, yet you choose to ignore me

To you ignorance is bliss

For me ignorance is fuel.

March 14, 2014

By Helen Stallard

Woodland Prince

Good Morning,

Today's early morning post is free verse and jaunty. I do so enjoy my woodland walks and always feel

inspired. As an observational/confessional poet. I often put my self in place of my subjects. Hoping to gain better insight to their perspective. In this poem I have enthused to do just that. Having a love of oaks I often ponder on how hard it must be to grow to such grandeur… the obstacles in their paths and the very awakening of them. Hence 'Woodland Prince' was born. 

Woodland Prince

Slowly unfurling to the sweet warmth penetrating my being

Basking in the rays that dapple through the deep canopy

I wake to beaded water droplets, festooning silken webs

Sending cascading colours across the soft mossy floor

The dampness around me, a heady palette of musk

Mouldy moisture and yet a pleasant taste to me

Glorious jade greens dance gaily to my eyes

The ever-changing canopy waltzing about

Splaying light beams to dark crevasses

Breathing life to dank cold corners

An abundance of new birth to all

I’m still now… as I take stock

A momentary pause in time

Before I begin my ascent

Taking my rightful place

Among the giants

To be mammoth

Living legend

Whispering

Oak

By Helen Stallard

March 10, 2014

Above and Beyond

Hi All, 
I wrote this poem for my eldest daughter Jasmine, who literally gave her sister the clothes off her back the other day.
No big thing for most I know, but it overwhelmed me. The lengths she will go to to help her siblings knows no bounds. You make me so very proud… I love you Jasmine x x

Above and Beyond

Clearer than water my love running through 

Clearer than crystal my feelings to you 

Enough to hand you the clothes of my back

Enough to absorb your mood when black

More than the beautiful heavens above

More than life is how much I love

Reliable as the moon in darkened sky

Reliable as the sun that sets on high

Deeper than the ocean blue

The love that I hold

My sister 

for you.

By Helen Stallard

March 9, 2014

Begin Again

Good Evening, 

I am a firm believer in hitting your reset button. Frequently do and probably always will. Positive thinking enables me to do that. So out of that very thought process, was born the following poem. 



Begin Again

Quiet moment... second chance, begin again?

Pregnant pause... awkward stance, begin again?

Fiery stares... darkened past, begin again?

Peaceful reflection... coming last, begin again?

Pondered thoughts... breaking through, begin again?

Opened doors... start anew, begin again! 

By Helen Stallard

March 8, 2014