I am always writing lists,

It’s something I love to do;

A personality trait many possess.

I must admit I do like to be organised,

But I suspect the lists are just something to do

While I avoid doing the to dos written-

Another form of procrastination.

I always joke to my mum

“You need a list for all your lists!”

But I can see how it gets like that.

I have separate lists for everything

Things to draw and things to write

Things to buy and things to try

A 2017 resolution list- even though I said I wouldn’t!

Some stuff has been written for years

Still yet to be crossed off.

Yet I still add more- so much ambition but such little drive.

Maybe this year’s resolution should be to complete the lists

There are so many

Scattered in hundreds of different pretty notebooks

What am I doing?!

I’m not doing anything

So why am I still writing the lists?

A way of trying to gain control of my life maybe

When not a lot is going well

Writing the lists at least makes me feel like I have

Some sort of a plan

And they give me something to do


Beginnings, middles, ends

There may be a beginning, a middle and an end to life |
But there are also beginnings, middles and ends |
A beginning such as becoming husband and wife |
Each person’s story depends |

One person might begin a new life when|
They leave home and go to uni |
But saying goodbye to the days before then |
May also be a finale |

Middles happen in every chapter |
Like moving in before getting married |
Some might think the middle doesn’t matter |
The ends are all that are fancied |

But that A grade you got on that paper one time |
Made you the person you are today |
So really, it’s the middles of life’s climb |
That make it worth the stay |

Everyone is only concerned with how it turns out |
For them in the end |
You’ll get nowhere doing nothing, I want to shout!
The middle, you need to attend


I was sat at the bench of a train station
Waiting for my next train
When i saw a guy sat writing mention
Morality, and being humane

How ironic it was after that
When a lady with crutches came by
The guy continued to be sat
Wouldn’t kiss his seat goodbye

How moral it was of him
To write about ethics and all things good
How humane it was of him
To keep his seat when he could have stood

The lady continued to struggle to stand
So I gave her my chair
The guy still writing like Richard Brandt
His seat he did not spare

Like a Tree, My Body Is…

A campaign for those with eating disorders has taken the poem “like a tree, my body is…” and asked people to write a positive word about the body to encourage others to love their bodies. I focused my ideas on the female body. They asked me to blog my idea, so here it is:

Like a tree, my body is… FOREVER BLOSSOMING.

        Just as a tree blossoms beautiful flowers every year, my body blossoms.

        Every minute of the day my body is changing.

       It is growing, and with growth it becomes stronger, yet still remains delicate, just as a blossom may.

       It shows femininity. It is refined.

        Like a tree that blossoms every spring, my body goes through a cycle, and each time it is renewed.

        From time to time I may feel like my body is withering. Winter and tiredness can take their toll.

        However, I remind myself that this also happens to a blossoming tree, and when I look at one, I see nothing but  beauty, nothing but nature in all its glory.

        And nature is a powerful thing. It is inspiring, harmonious, simple, and wonderful to look at.

        This parallels the female body.

 I may look in the mirror and try to find flaws in myself, but the only thing our “flaws” do is add character to our bodies.

  Perfection is overrated anyway.