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Worrying and the stress of life, poetry
Life and worrying
Why does life mean stress?
So often I sit in a mess.
Worrying over things I can’t change,
Things done that I can’t rearrange.
Thoughts racing around my head,
Giving me a headache, filling me with dread.An email it can’t be undone,
Words spoken, I can only moan.
Telling myself a day at a time,
Worrying is really not fine.
I need to sit more and relax,
To look after me and that is a fact.Sitting here head in my hands,
The world it doesn’t understand.
Why a mum such as me,
Is not relaxed and care free.
I have many good things going on,
But so often I feel that I’m wrong.Listening to the falling rain,
I can feel life’s repeated strain.
I need to collapse in a heap.
My body is craving more sleep.
With life’s endless and tireless refrain,
Of repeated stress again and again.Homework and holidays
So, what has been happening recently?
What has impacted on me?
School holidays were good,
Enjoying quality time as we should.
The school homework it was completed
And mummy and daddy weren’t defeated.
My son is learning the guitar,
I didn’t think we’d get far.
He is at a new school, he had to catch up,
Mummy nagged and he said ‘enough is enough’.
Proudly by the end of the week,
He’s done well, now for practice he will seek.The children picked daffodils at school,
They really shouldn’t, but they’re nobody’s fool.
On Wednesday I had one with me in my car,
I couldn’t bin it, so it travelled far.
Now, with some others picked later,
It’s sat here pretty, a kitchen feature.Weekend soon
So, as my quiet time comes to an end,
The rain is still falling and it’s soon the weekend.
More homework again to do,
Maths, English and reading to get through.
Time together again,
But this weekend it’s forecast to rain.It’s raining again today,
With another storm on its way.
Trying to take time to rest,
No time to be depressed.
The children they make me smile,
And they make all my stress worthwhile.For more see, My son, reading, and life poetry
From my other blog – Life stress, my novel and my writing
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The love and death of vivacious Sarah
Two weeks ago
She sat, brown hair shining as the sun reflected on it. Miles watched her vivacious beauty as she sucked on her straw. The orange juice slowly going down in the glass. Entranced by her he knew that she could have any man, but she had chosen him. Tracing the lines on her face, Miles admired her as she watched the boats bobbing on the sea and the children playing on the beach.
They had visited this restaurant many times. It was their favourite, with its sea view and vibrant atmosphere. Sarah was vivacious, full of life. Everywhere she went she lit up the room, everyone loved her. For Miles, she was the centre of his world. He knew that he was lucky to be with someone as special as her.
Present day
So, why had things changed so dramatically? Miles sat in the empty room. The crime scene investigators had gone. The pain in his chest would not diminish. He needed Sarah, why had someone taken her from him?
The white tape still laid round where her strangled body had been found. A reminder of the woman he had lost. Who despised her enough to do this? People had flocked to her sparkling personality. What had gone so wrong?
Stroking the arms of the warm chair, he gazed around the room. Was there someone she had upset? Someone she had wronged? He only knew vivacious happy Sarah. Focusing on the wooden dresser, Miles decided to start his own investigation. The police had said they would find her killer, but would they? So many crime books told otherwise and he hoped he was not a suspect.
Pushing himself up from the chair, he walked over to the dresser. Opening the top drawer, he found a pile of envelopes bound with an elastic band. Pulling them out, he stepped back to his chair and sat down. Miles felt like an intruder reading through her personal post but this needed to be done.
The poem
Opening the first envelope his heart started to race as he read,
To my darling Sarah,
If I can’t have you, then no one can,
Miles he is a lucky man.
If you don’t come to me,
Then your life will no longer be.
Vivacious Sarah, I need you here,
And if not, you will live in fear.
W. XW? Who is W? Poetry was supposed to be nice, not threatening. Sarah had chosen him over W. He opened another letter revealing another bad poem, again signed by W. Picking up Sarah’s phone he checked her phone contacts. There was no W. Phoning her best friend Ruth, Miles told her what he had found, and asked if she knew who he was.
Ruth
“Miles, the only W I know is Wendy, and she is married with two children. Though, Sarah has been acting strange for the last few months. Her conversation has always reverted back to you but she has made some odd comments.”
“Like what?”
“She spoke about weirdoes and respect. She adored you Miles and was pleased you never wrote to her.”
“Why would I write to her? I saw her nearly every day ”.
“Maybe, now we know about W. We can assume that Sarah had enough poetry in his creepy threats. Miles you never sent her poetry or threats. You told her how you felt in person, she loved that. You made her happy Miles”.
“Sarah made me happy too and now W has murdered her.”
“Have you given the poetry to the police?”.W?
“Not yet, I was hoping to solve the mystery of W.”
“Seriously Miles, this is not some crime show, this is real life. You are not a detective and we don’t know W.”
“Did she mention any W at work.”?
“Do you really think a teacher is capable of this Miles?”
“He might have been a parent. Ruth how long have you known Sarah?”
“Only about two years.”“Well, I’ve only known her eighteen months. Not long enough Ruth, she very quickly became my world and now he’s taken her. I’ve got her phone, do you know anyone other then her mum who has known her longer?”
“Hmm, is Georgie on there? They knew each other at university?”Scrolling through the phonebook he found Georgina.
“Okay, Georgina must be her, I will try her, thank you Ruth “.
“Good luck, but please give those letters to the police. You don’t want to be done for withholding evidence.”
“Okay, I’ll phone her now.Georgina
Feeling sick he listened to the ringing, willing Georgie to answer.
As she answered, he could detect a sadness in her voice.
“Hi, Georgina, my name is Miles.”
“Miles?”
“Sarah Brewster’s partner.”
“Oh hi, I’m so sorry, I haven’t seen Sarah in months and I’ve just been told what happened.”
“Yes, she was found strangled on her lounge floor.”
“Terrible news, Sarah was lovely, she had no enemies”.
“Do you happen to know a W?”William
“At university there was William Thorn. He was crazy about her but she never reciprocated.”
“Any idea what happened to him?”
“After graduating he got a job at a school in York. I don’t know where he went after that.”
“Do you think he would be mad enough to strangle anyone?”
“Miles, really, are you conducting your own investigation. Leave it to the police.”“I found threatening love poetry, signed by W. He might he her killer. I’m going to go to the station and hand them in.”
“Do, Miles, I hope you are right, Sarah did not deserve to be strangled. She was vivacious and truly beautiful. The world is a sadder place without her in it. I’m regretting not staying in touch with her, she was an amazing woman.Visit to the police station
Hanging up on her, he bundled together the poetry. Hoping that the police would follow up on his suspicions and find William. Surely he was the likely killer. Miles knew that he needed to leave it for the police, he had to be patient.
Huntsfield Gazette – three weeks later
The headline read, ‘Vivacious Sarah, pursued by evil teacher’. Miles had been right. The police thanked him for finding the poetry and working out who W was. He had helped to bring the case to a close. They had found William Thorn teaching at a local school in Huntsfield. He had been stalking and terrorizing her for months.
Soon after, it evolved that William had stalked other women as well. Sarah was the first he had killed but others had been followed and threatened. Two others had come forward, relieved that he was now behind bars but sad that a woman had been killed.
Miles knew that nothing would bring Sarah back. He now had to live with his memories and move on to life without her. Glad for the short time that they had together but sad that it had ended so suddenly. In time he maybe would move on, but for now he preferred to sit quietly with his thoughts and just remember her.
Written for Blog Battle – Vivacious
For more see, A bucket of dreams and a rock star life
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Two planes, and a country brought together
Watching the sky for planes
Do you ever stare at the sky and watch planes flying overhead? Wondering where they are going. Holiday makers or business people?
Some people know the flight paths, times they left the airport, plane spotters taking photos and recording the times they land.
The sun worshippers that love to sit by a swimming pool or lie on a faraway beach. The people that save all their money for that one sunny holiday every year. Lying here now, watching the smoke trails in the blue sky, I’m glad that I’m not up there. They say flying is the safest way to travel, I’m not so sure.
Flight 11 – to Los Angeles
It was about eighteen years ago that my world fell apart. The most important man in my life had gone. Our last goodbye had been the evening of 10th September 2001. No thought that I would never see him again alive. Kissing me on the head and giving me a hug he had said,
“Goodnight, I will see you in a few days, Cutems”The next day I had skipped off to school with mum, preoccupied with thoughts of my friend, Hannah, and her new puppy, I was never allowed a puppy. Unaware that my world was about to change dramatically.
School
School had just started and I was doing my timetables when the head teacher, Mrs Clark, put an announcement over the school radio system.
“Can the whole school please come to the Cafeteria”.We all lined up excited. I was relieved to get out of maths. As we filed into the Cafeteria the teachers were standing hugging and crying. What had happened?
I remember it like it was yesterday, Mrs Clark was sobbing, and her words still reverberate around my head.“Two planes, one bound for Los Angeles, have been hijacked and crashed into the World Trade Centre. All passengers are dead”.
I had a stabbing feeling in my chest, my dad was going to Los Angeles today. He departed this morning. I need my dad. Looking around me I felt anger as others were crying. They hadn’t just lost their dad. It’s now just me and mum.
Pain
I saw my teacher, Mrs Wells, her face buried in her white hanky. Hannah sitting next to me, reached out her hand and touched mine.
“Lucy”. She said.
I looked at her shaking. “My dad, I want my dad, dad.”Mrs Wells heard my distress. She walked over and put her arms around me and now started crying harder.
“Lucy, my sister worked at the centre, those planes.” she stammered.I couldn’t say anything. The pain was too much and I cuddled into her. Feeling her warmth as we sat shaking. Around me I could feel the torment. I wasn’t the only one to lose someone that I love that day.
The television was on in the corner of the room, with the news showing the moment that the planes hit. I couldn’t watch it then, and I still can’t.
Present day
I have never forgotten that morning. Hannah has remained my friend. She helped me through the days that followed. Mum went to pieces for a while and she and Mrs Wells became friends. Alliances were made as the country came together. Mum tried to appear strong but I knew she was dying inside. Our lives changed forever, it was now just me and mum.
I was just ten years old when it happened, I’m now twenty-eight. Lying on the grass my three-year-old, Sophie, is next to me. Pretending to be an angel I can hear her laughing. Mum is sat on a bench nearby. Time has moved on but we will never forget dad and the others who lost their lives that day.
Sophie knows all about her grandfather and what a great man he was. She knows how much we love him and will always visit his grave with me.
My dad phoned my mum before he died. Telling her that his plane had been hijacked and he would never see us again. He told her to move on with her life and forget him. Mum didn’t, she’s never had anyone else. I think there have been admirers but she’s never been interested.
Mum and time
Her sadness did eventually lift, but I rarely hear her laughing happily. Losing a partner must be terrible. I lost my dad but I now have Greg. Mum has me and Greg but that’s not the same as being with dad. I now hear a quiet voice through my thoughts.
“Mummy, will you push me on the swing?”
“Yes, in a moment.” Taking her hand, I pull her towards me and give her a hug.Moments like this and time are precious. Dad was often travelling for business and we didn’t have enough time together. All I have left are photos and memories.
So, please make the most of the time you have. Look after each other as none of us knows what will happen tomorrow. That morning in the school cafeteria I knew that I needed to make the most of what I have. I try and spend as much time as I can with those that I love. I’m not travelling across the country without them any time soon.
Please note, I live in the UK so this is not based on my own personal experience.
Thank you to everyone who responded to me on the Writers Unite Facebook forum, and shared your experiences of this sad event.
Written for, Write the story photo prompt on Writers Unite.
For more see, A weapon for murder









