There’s a little man invading my dream….

17 January 2012

There’s a little man invading my dream….

It’s been a few days since I last posted something on here and I think I am having “blog publishing withdrawal symptoms”  (BPWS)

This happened partially due to work commitments but also the good ol’ writer’s block that has crept in on me.  The weather has played its part on my feelings too.  After having had several very hot days it has been raining non-stop.  I don’t mind the rain, just a ray of sunshine every now and then would have been nice, thank you very much….

So instead I thought I will share with you a poem that I have had for many years and read it every now and then (meaning every couple of years actually).   I do not claim my name to fame in writing this.  I pass this on to a girl who visited me in another country many years ago.  Her name is Stephanie.  Last name unknown.  She passed it on to me when I was going through a particular tough time.  This poem reminds me that WE DO HAVE OPTIONS and helps me sometimes with making some tough decisions.  I hope this may help someone out there too.

So if you recognise this as your poem, Stephanie, please contact me so that I can give you the credit where credit is due.

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There’s a little man invading my dream

I cannot see him, and they can’t hear me scream.

I’m no hero, I want to save no souls

Just deliver me from evil as they say the story goes.

God cannot help me, for man he did create

And seemingly, intentionally, to leave me in this state.

No-one to hear my story, they’ve stories of their own

So other than a letter, I’m in this one alone.

A deep breath now, the tears bite back

And I’ll sit here at this table ’till I know how to attack.

First examine feelings, this much I have learnt

Carefully discover if I’m angry, or I’m hurt.

The second step are options, what to do and when

and once I have them sorted, confront the man,

and then….

Oh dear, he’s being nice to me, with this I cannot cope

All my well strung arguments in my throat are choked.

So I’ll resort to writing poems, they are my saving grace

And I’ll sleep on this tonight, perhaps the morning I can face.

(this poem is copyright protected)

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