“On This Day” Repost – Baggage

Seems that 31 October 2014 was a good day for writing – 3 posts came up in my FB feed today.  Of the 3, I decided I liked this one best.  If you’re interested, the original post can be found here.

Baggage

People think of baggage,
as something that is bad,
to be discarded soon as,
the opportunity is had.

But baggage can be useful,
for storing things you need,
to grow and learn and change from,
old life lessons you should heed.

New baggage is the hardest,
it’s lines are sharp and cruel,
painful corners on the cases,
where you’ve been played a fool.

Old baggage can be comfortable
as it fits like second skin,
especially on the corners,
where it’s been broken in.

Recognise your baggage,
whichever style it be,
you paid for all it’s excess weight,
you know nothing comes for free.

Understand the reason that you packed it,
with all the tales it tells,
save what you deem as valuable,
and leave the rest on the carousel.

© ceenoa

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“On this Day” Repost – Size 20

Yeah, you know I love this little “On This Day” thing on FB, and today it gave me this one from 3 years ago. Here is the link to the original post.  It was great to read some of the nice comments left, and downright weird to read my responses – sometimes I just don’t feel that I type like me!.

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So yes, I’m size 20 – an incontrovertible fact,
I’m way past cuddly and curvy, so let’s just call me fat.

“She must be greedy and lazy, to let herself get to that size”,
they speak without understanding, one day they may realise.

It’s so much more than just eating – this chaos that lives in my brain,
compounded of joyful memories, and bottomless buckets of pain.

The food is only a symptom, of things I cannot control,
for though I am shattered and broken, once I was boundlessly whole.

I know it is not the real answer, to things that go “bump in the night”
but just for those few tiny moments, food makes some of it right.

I’ve searched for other solutions, but to food I keep coming back,
so look deeper than just my surface – my pain is displayed in my fat.

© ceenoa

 

“On this Day” Repost – I don’t do Math

I may have mentioned once of twice my favourite FB feature – NO?  Oh, well it is “on this Day” – and on this day in 2014 I wrote the following post.  Strangely enough, today my FB feed has been full of posts of a similar nature; learning to be, living in the moment, being happy.  The Universe does work in mysterious ways – and it pays to pay attention unless you want a kick up the backside.

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What does it all add up too?
the seconds of my life,
count them off in gratitude,
daughter, sister, mother, wife.

No number can ever tally,
the measure of our worth,
the answer is in living well,
each day upon the earth.

“On this Day” Repost – The Dog

Facebook has one good feature – “On This Day”, and it’s reminded me why I’m feeling a bit …”off” … today.  My original post can be found here.

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The dog takes me for a walk,   
pulling against the leash,
strong and determined,
straining to break free.

We only walk in winter,
the dog and I,
weather grey and gloomy,
under short day skies.

My dog is black.

© ceenoa

“On This Day” Repost – Haiku Challenge

Facebook “On This Day” has just reminded me that once upon a time I enjoyed participating in a Haiku Challenge.  This one resonated with me today, as it’s challenge words were “think” and “fresh“.  The original post from 2 years ago can be found here.   

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The fresh scent of Autumn
shaking off languid Summer
I think of regrets.

© ceenoa

“On this Day” Repost – Getting away with Murder!

I am enjoying my little Facebook “on This Day” reminders – seems I was pretty prolific in April three years ago (I was doing the Zero to Hero blogging course too). Anyway, this one came up today, and it still amuses me because ….well, you will see if you read on.  The original post is here.

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Yesterday I committed a good deed, I committed a murder!

I committed a murder, in mitigation I state that there was no particular malice aforethought, but there was a tiny bit of premeditation before the hit.

My kind heart forced me in to it, because no matter how many people they asked, no-one else would assist the ladies who stood quivering and squealing on the petrol station driveway.  Being too afraid to kill him themselves, they had abandoned their car to the victim.

So, yes, I killed him.  I hit him so hard that he was reduced to a pile of gooey smear on the cement.  I trod on his corpse.  I whacked him again for good measure, said “Not a problem” to the ladies, and walked off to my car.  My conscience did not pain me at all, and the ladies I did this good deed for were exceptionally happy, got in their car and drove off, leaving the body behind.

I say this with no pleasure, but if you need a hit and a whack, a murder in fact, I can sometimes be counted on the do the business –  but only if the victim has 8 legs!

p.s  No photos were taken in the course of this post – that would be just gross.

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This amuses me because I have had a life long intense dislike of spiders, particularly Huntsman, and yet I had no qualms about helping these ladies out.  I guess when I became a Mother I changed, as someone had to kill the spiders, and it wasn’t going to be my children!

“On This Day” Repost – The Ginger Jar

Facebook has one good feature, (don’t get me started on how many BAD features it has), in that it gives you the “blast from the past” in it’s “On This Day” feature.  I enjoy seeing what I was posting years ago, and today this little poem caught my eye and I found myself thinking “that’s not too shabby”.

So, here’s a little something I posted on 21 March 2014.

The Ginger Jar

It wasn’t where I left it,
I’d looked on every shelf,
“I would swear, I left it there”,
I muttered to myself.

It wasn’t in the cupboard,
I only found a sock,
it wasn’t in the garden
buried underneath the rocks.

I looked under the table,
but I couldn’t see it there,
I even took the cushions off
each and every chair.

“Where could you be?”, I said to me
– it didn’t answer back,
and just “because”, I had a look
inside the old spice rack.

It was nestled at the bottom
of the musty ginger jar,
I tipped it out, then dropped it,
but it didn’t roll too far.

I picked it up and held it,
and told it what I thought,
that I’d be lost without it,
and my days be without worth.

I twisted it and pushed it,
put it back where it belonged,
for a day without some humour
is a day that is too long.

© Ceenoa