Love poem 1

My attempt at a love poem (as rarely write them or have any one to write one for/about).

I am sprinkling like a fairy,
Different kinds of flowers,
Every colour of the rainbow.

Here I come to give you songs,
Words to make your head spin,
And flowers to make you smile.

Music that will make you dance,
Oh, and another kind of flower,
To place forever upon your heart

From the city of an extinct volcano,
Sleepily watching over the citizens.
With a castle but no princess be.

I came to bring these just for you,
Carrying them over the seven hills,
And crossing the spiralling river.

Together they may have no worth,
But they are all I have to give,
From citizen FSJB of Planet Earth.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The dance of love

Roses have thorns tasting of bitter sweet tears,

Painted grey with pains and sorrows over the years.

Yet they are also the colour of a truest romance,

As another teaches our heart and soul to dance.

 

Every dance has its own unique theme tune,

That makes fools of us all in the fullest moon.

Lyrics from collected from shared memories,

And a melody as sweet as from any bakeries.

 

It will soon be time to celebrate Valentine’s Day,

But remember the dance is not bought on eBay.

It is in the daily words, thoughts and actions,

This is the secret to endless satisfactions.

 

However, not all are fortunate to have a partner,

But everyone is appreciated and loved by another.

So keep wearing that smile and not the tears,

As tomorrow is a promise full of potential cheers.

 

© Fi S. J. Brown

Paris

The unlucky day struck her chord,
Turning the tricolore to purest red.
A world united in Fracophilie grief,
To events that there are no words.

A city admired for her vast beauty,
Now scarred by the acts of hate.
How can humans hurt another so,
With a sickness of deepest orange.

Before the dawn chorus could sing,
Whispers of blame echoed all over.
With revenge of green eyes glowing
But should not be the answer sought.

Now fear tries to paint it a whitewash,
But use the brush of indigo’s wisdom.
Know the minority are not the majority,
Unite all in empathy and compassion.

© Fi S. J. Brown

The Gift – Bullying

I caught a bit of the BBC 1 program “The Gift” tonight about a bully wanting to appologise to the boy he bullied at school many years ago, so of course I’ve been crying but it did make me think of my own experiences of being bullied. I was bullied at primary school by the girls and then moved schools to a girls only school but the bullying continued. Did I tell teachers and family – yes: My father’s comments at the time were his hands were tied, only to tell me when back in touch fifteen years later he wished he’d known I was; my mother’s attitude was girls will be girls, something that does not help when every day is a misery with it all and hoping each day it will change for the better but it never does.

I will admit by the age of 14 the idea of suicide was never far from my thoughts, I wanted to self harm but knew that would only cause more attention from them, which I did not want. Indeed eczema on my arms from the stress of it, which led to had quips on if I had been taking drugs! Losing my hair fully when young to being laughed at for being stupid, and taking all my school books for the day in one bag (as my mother wouldn’t let me use a locker like normal people encase I forgot something), looking back at times I think it is no wonder I was bullied for being different. However, being different is not a fault of any sort, in fact my school year was abnormally small so I stood out in our very fetching bottle green uniform.

To those of you that were at school with me, you know who I have grown into but not necessarily the journey it has taken me to put it all behind me. I would not want to meet some of those that bullied me then as for me it is in the past and has added to the colour of the person I am. I do not wish anyone else I care about to experience the pain and misery I felt in those years, so do what I can for my closest friends. I am a stronger, compassionate and loving person for the experiences. I was told by two different people it was said “nobody is friends with Fiona” to any new pupil starting; I won’t appologise for being your friend, as I appreciate you for what you bring to my life. They may have won battles, but I won the war.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Friendship

For me one of the most powerful and beautiful things a human can do is offer the hand of friendship to another. Finding another person that accepts us for who we are and is there when we need them as we are in return. We are on this journey alone but having companions near and far in the form of friends makes the journey more fun, fulfilled and worthwhile.

As kids in the playground we found difference something to bully or tease another over but as adults we realise it is similarities that bring us together as friends with the differences where we learn more about the world we live in. We are part of a beautiful tapestry of many colours and it is the different friendships that make up the stitches and help tell our story.

True friendship is as great as any romance, as beautiful as an artwork in a gallery and unique as snowflakes, which together shine like the stars in the sky, give warmth to melt even the coldest of hearts and stronger than a rope of spider silk binding them together. Like all things of beauty, it can never be bought or sold, so let our actions and habits do the talking.

Whether a reason or a season, a ‘them’ shaped piece can be found in our hearts and soul to treasure, marking their presence in our lives and what makes us smile when we think of them. Everyone deserves to feel the love, hope and magic of friendship, so do not feel there is nobody out there caring as there is. So take a minute today and whisper our thanks.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Thirty Six Years

As I approach the thirty sixth anniversary of my birth, I walk up the hill with an observatory that I have climbed many times before, often in the company of a four legged friend of fur and bark. However, today I walk alone to reflect not the lens of a telescope to the stars but my mind on the journey I have taken so far to reach the point I am at today.

As I walk, I look out to a city that became my place of birth after an eleventh hour decision meant I was not born where my journey had biologically started. This city of birth is also the place of many childhood memories that now echo across where I look and make trees sway as feel their vibrations. Many of the trees look on fire, not with passion but as a warning not to dwell on the past for too long. If look close some are shedding their leaves in empathetic tears to the memories they now feel from my memories, good and bad.

I think back to my earliest days, filled with wonder to the world around me and curious to its ways like a newborn puppy yet as wise as an owl in what I seemed to know. I remembered a world that was filled with many colours, but school and family taught me that it was black or white; they replaced the songs of birds and rivers with their own drills and guns; they said I had five senses but I was sure I could pick up at least twice that; and gave me pills to sedate me from asking the questions I wanted answers to, as could or would not answer them. The grown-ups ultimately told of a world of them and us, where the humans ruled over all that l could see and deeper, wider and higher than my eyes could; they were only judged by a man named god, who had created it all and forgave if I did wrong as long as I asked him to.

As I became a grown-up myself I felt a boomerang effect, in whatever I did and wherever I went this city would bring me back. Sadly, I never wanted to be back, in fact quite the opposite, I longed to explore the world like the explorers I read about in childhood books and was not content to do it from a seat any more. At the same time, those around me were settling in “normal” life: getting a job, finding a partner, setting up home and having kids. I felt like an alien in a world to which I did not or would ever belong. Restricted to a tourist visa but not granted citizenship to this world.

Like a circus freak in Victorian times since my earliest teens I wanted to hide away, as my head said I looked like the love child of Frankenstein’s monster and the Hunchback of Notre Dane, an unloveable ogre with growths over my body, and faults greater than San Andreas. I often wondered on making my curtain call, I had enough of being a player in someone else’s movie and being used by those I thought I could trust. When I took what I wanted to be my final bow, I fell not on concrete but autumn leaves, leaving no visible scars but many scratches that I could not itch. Picking the pieces up I knew only I could glue them as there was no one but me there to add glitter or shine.

Much of my life I felt like a donkey among the thoroughbred horses in a race of life, but against the odds I completed a degree, masters two and PhD before I reached the age of 32. When I signed off my final word on my doctorate, I took my own Hippocratic Oath, never to work or study in a laboratory again! The relief felt like I had been given the chance to start again from where I had last saved, which turned out to have been almost twenty years before. So I picked up my pen and let the colours, visuals, sounds, tastes, feelings and smells of that moment release like a series of tributaries forming one big river with each ones strengths and weaknesses.

Now I return my thoughts to today, spinning around on where I stand, thinking where in each direction I could go next without the boomerang pulling me back here. I thought of people that I knew in every one, the special people who’s emails, texts, and phone calls make me smile like I could never have imagined but two years before, for it hurt my face to even try. Whereas now I could share my journey with them, sharing in tears of both pain and laughter. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but I know where I have been. Life has a bittersweet taste but the colours, sounds, visuals and things that belong beyond my wildest dreams are within my touch, so I’m going to take a leap and follow them wherever they may take me next.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Hopes and Dreams

This week I hope for:

1. Peace in my mind
2. Health in my body
3. Love in my heart
4. Fire in my soul
5. Honesty in my words
6. Freedom of a bird
7. Music of an orchestra
8. Colours of an art gallery
9. Inspiration from nature
10. Wisdom of father time

© Fi S. J. Brown

Tales of a city

This city is full of dark whispers and lies of fifty shades of grey,
Echoes from childhood still ring out in malevolent laughter.
As she traps me with her seven invisible craggy walls of green,
And strangers act as judge with the streets as their courts.
Shadows filled with the beating of her cold and bitter heart,
That loves and loathes all that come to see her ageless beauty.

Locals say I sing the song of far away lands and not hers,
It’s not from here as do not know the lyrics nor want to learn.
As rumours swirl in the wind that is her invisible breath of life,
Making fools of many as she can as one of her many games.
Some days it is impossible to tell real and what is a reflection,
And scared to shatter the glass for fear of getting hurt again.

She calls me back whenever I leave her as wants me to stay,
But I stopped loving her many years ago now want a divorce.
Freedom from her endless suffocation and choking hands,
To look through the eyes of a stranger at her from a distance.
As I wipe away the rain as like tears falling from my face,
And wishing one day to find where my song’s home really is.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Image

Autumn – the multisensory season

Listening to the rain falling on autumnal leaves,
Like tears trickling down a clown’s tired cheek.
One a pulsating beat to dance long into the night,
The other ghost notes with no discernible pitch.

Watching the leaves turn from greens to reds,
Like traffic lights but few stop and wait a while.
One a sight of natural beauty for all the senses,
The other to warn of man made jungle dangers.

Seeing the leaves are individual shapes and sizes,
Like all human beings are all over Planet Earth.
One a mixture that few recognise the differences,
The other many want to change to look the same.

Look as well as listen, watch and see this autumn,
Like a child experiencing its magic for the first time.
One will awaken your senses to the whole world,
The other will bring you happiness outside and in.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Autumn in Pitlochry