Loosing Battles

Good day all and welcome back,
The following poem is written for all those who are deep within a troubled relationship. I know this feeling well and felt turmoil during weeks/month/years of battling to be heard and understood. This genre and poem has been floating around in my mind for many years and today I share it with all of you. You cannot help who you love, but you can help who you choose to be.

Loosing Battles

Like two apposing tribes, the battles of the senses.

Reinforced walls and stony armed defences.

Further commands, once moved to arms.

Observing you - for silent alarms.

This war cannot cease... will always be.

Fighters continuing in this skirmish.

Do we fight then to be free?

Again we bare weapons held up-above.

The emotional weapons of our love.

Loosing as we begin.

By Helen Stallard 
February 13  2014

Little Princess

Good evening Friends, 

I have included a poem I wrote for a my Granddaughter. This tiny creature is a wonder to me and  never ceases to amaze me. Surrounded by so many uncles, an auntie and what seems like a zillion Grandparents and she still have enough unconditional love for us all. 

Little Princess

Tiny feet and turned up nose.

Your growing like a pretty rose.

Snugly hugs and lingering kisses.

Little arms and princess wishes. 

Minute lashes on minute eyes.

All wondrous under moonlit skies.

Your tiny face angelic like.

Your company a pure delight.

Whenever its time to part.

Leaves a-little of my heart.

By Helen Stallard
February 12 2014

Beauty

Good evening All,
I think this poem speaks for itself. Let's see if you agree?

Beauty

I see you there within the lines, your made up eyes, your stance refined.

The shallowest depth I have seen, beneath your fake exterior sheen.

In coquettish smiles and fluttered looks, I watch you as you leap from books.

To see the things we think we need, compounded by consumer greed.

Your inner sanctum to set them free, inside it’s where they wish to be.

But they don’t see your darker side, your selfish glory and empty pride.

I see below your painted mask, your sleepless eyes and bowing back.

Observe you playing grandiose games, with tiny minds that think their plain.

I see their beauty, lives and joys; with all their weakening needs you toy.

You promise them and tell them lies… in the way you chose to advertise.

Pity those creatures that choose to stand; for your fake beauty held so grand.

As true beauty cannot be bought, cannot be earned or made or sought.

So do not look up to those prissy girls; with designer pets and golden curls.

Beauty is not placed on skin, you must reach inside and from deep within.

When you look upon yourself so fair, remember what you are seeing there.

A stunning person whole and true, now see the world as it see’s you!

By Helen Stallard 
February 11 2014

Infinity

I wrote this piece some 20 years ago and have spent some time editing it today. It was written in love, but for a person who I soon realised had toyed with my emotions and cheated me of that love. I still adore the feeling I poured into it. Even though now upon reflection, I felt cheated at the time. It is part of what made me who I am today. I still adore the piece and now I share it with you.

Infinity

Why has it been that since time began. Two people can bind together like ancient vine... As it twists it’s way through infinity.

Why is it, since the elements first formed... That two people can punish one another. Like northern winds, bringing in the changes of cold winter nights. Then warm to each other like a warm summer sun on crystal clear water.

So why then, does this eternal battle of the hearts stay so alive... Is it possible to decipher an incomplete Chinese puzzle?

It can only be left to say, “That the answer is no there to take!” Pleasure, pain, anguish and heartache, are clasped tightly in the hands of love. Who are we to toy with these emotions?

So let it be... Because I love you!

By Helen Stallard  
February 10 2014

Jasmine

This poem is for my daughter Jasmine… I guess most would call her my step-daughter, but to me she is my daughter, I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her at the tender age of 4. She drove me mad as a teenager and for a time we were estranged. However, she and I have a relationship now that most parents would kill for. Not only has she proved herself to be a great Mum, she is also a fabulous daughter and dedicated big sister, to her 6 siblings. What more could a parent ask for.

Jasmine

Your mothers eyes 

Your fathers smile

Your angelic face 

You did beguile

The paternal bonds

There to grow

A breathless second

I loved you so

Your mothers eyes

Your fathers smile

Your angelic face

You did beguile

Lost to you 

Your mothers grace

Your fallen tears

Upon your face

Your mothers eyes

Your fathers smile

Your angelic face

You did beguile

Your birth mother 

She is indisposed

Your fathers love

Will surely grow

Your mothers eyes

Your fathers smile

Your angelic face

You did beguile

Your birth mother 

I’ll never be 

but know this 

Just from me

Your mother eyes

Your fathers smile

Your angelic face

You did beguile

Your birth mother 

I’ll never be

A perfect love

Souls set free

By Helen Stallard 
February 2014

"YOUR" Money

Hello Everyone, 
Allow me to take the time to thank you all for returning, reading, liking and sharing. I am humbled by your support. <3
Below I have shared a recently penned poem that my memories inspired me to write. As some of you will be aware, I am a proud mother of seven beautiful children. However, my growing family is blended and sadly for my children … there have been financially and emotionally, absent fathers. It grieved me at the time, that they allowed their bitterness towards me to jade their relationships with their children. A time they can never recover. Lost now to the regret lists of life. This made me realise how many absent parents there are out there, both male and female. Stand up and be counted and do right by your kids.


 “YOUR” Money

They don’t want “YOUR” money. 

They just want “YOUR” time. 

They don’t want “YOUR” money. 

They shouldn’t have to stand in line. 

They don’t want “YOUR,” money. 

They deserve love from “YOU.”

They don’t want “YOUR” money. 

They need “YOU” to see them through.

They don’t want “YOUR,” money.

They only want to be “YOUR” first.

They don’t want “YOUR” money.

They want “YOUR” empty time reimbursed.

They don’t want “YOUR” money 

They need “YOU” to show you care

They don’t want “YOUR” money.

They just need to know that “YOU” are there.

They don’t need “YOUR” money. 

It is I who needs it for them to survive.

They don’t need “YOUR” money.

Feed “YOUR” kids and keep them alive. 

They don’t need “YOUR” money. 

Not like they used to do. 

They don’t need “YOUR” money.

They just need all of you. 

So you can keep “YOUR” spiteful money.

But your kids “YOU” can’t dispose of.

You just keep “YOUR” bitter money.

They deserve all of “YOUR” love. 

By Helen Stallard

February 8, 2014.

Indigo Blue.

It's very early in the day for me, but I penned this earlier after watching the weather from my window. It enthrals me, often to the point of disbelief, what colours we see in our skies. We often ignore the beauty of nature, as we are consumed by our need for more. So I placed us in the feeble positions of tiny woodland animals. Playing out their tiny lives as a stupendous storm hits.
Let me know what you think and don't forget to like and share guys.

Indigo Blue

Small gusts bring whispers of you.

Scurrying feet beating hasty retreat.

Larger gusts shouting you bring anew. 

Boughs bending at your glory.

Eye’s peep from hiding holes deep.

As you arrive to scream your story.

Deeper than the cruelest fury.

While tiny heart pound from all around.

As you bring them a judge and jury. 

That false lull in your indigo sky.

Little noses sniffing air as all pause and stare.

When your vast centre passes by.

The sudden jolt that all can feel.

Frantic minds all panicked and blind.

They know this foe so very real. 

Lightning reaching from the ground. 

No where to hide from the sound out-side.

Your heavy growls and thunderous sounds.

Then you are passed a distant rumble.

Beating hearts rest after an arduous test.

This jeweled grove feels once again humble.

By Helen Stallard 
February 7 2014