Unseen

 

A cool rush of air, reaches the starched net,

Escorting the voices of children to the window,

They skip and jump,

Oblivious of a corrupt and uncaring world.

 

The day is warm, not sticky;

Yet lacking the freshness of freedom.

How can they laugh? How can they play?

Don’t they know of her!

 

Why does she sit alone,

Is it not her childhood they live?

Her empty chest yearns for the warmth of a new life.

How can she make them see,

Should she scream out? Her words would land on dumb ears.

 

A breeze from behind, brings her back to life.

The frail child slumps around,

Unseeing eyes stare out, across a sea of confusion.

Dishes strain to hear a sound – something.

 

Her mother enters a silent, sticky haze.

A glowing face tightens the clamps around her throat,

In the room sitting alone, was her world.

 

Wide arms stretch in the direction of a breeze.

Sea water enters her mother’s eyes,

The wind was not who her child thought.

 

Unseeing eyes follow the swish of their maker;

Turning to face her, yet seeing only darkness.

Hearing only breeze,

Feeling so alone.

 

By Becky Clemett - 8th April 1997

 

My Boat

 

My boat floats on the tides,

Up and down my leg.

On chilly Monday mornings,

I smother the sailors in silk.

When the weather is warm,

They bathe on the deck.

Some days they blush and burn,

When the boat is an inferno.

Other times they cry out for protection,

From the harsh westerly winds.

In achy agony of a morning frost,

My boat will make me capsize.

Laying there cold and wet,

With my sailors there at my side.

 

By Becky Clemett - 25th May 1999

Medics

 

Forced on me; not from above,

Or my parents from spite or love.

 

People tried to play the lord,

Pounced on me with a medical sword!

 

On I grew, my mother did not know,

All the while it began to show.

 

The day arrived and I was born,

Awakening my team to a brand new dawn.

 

Looking on me, eyes open wide,

Those to blame, just wanted to hide.

 

So here I am years have past,

Now I am speaking out at last.

 

It’s not my fault, don’t blame my family,

This is the way I am going to be.

 

Accept me now and reject me not,

For despite my ailment, I know a lot.

 

I ignore those people, who play around,

For they base their research on false ground.

 

By Becky  Clemett - 5th March 2000

Fever

 

The pounding of fever,

Fills up my head,

The room is now spinning,

As I lay in the bed.

 

Tissues and hankies,

All lay on the floor,

I am woken suddenly,

By a knock on the door.

 

I crawl to the handle,

To croak out ‘Hello’

Who was it out there?

I never did know.

 

Struggling to my feet,

I pulled on the door,

Then opened it slowly,

My visitor was no more!

 

I’ll have a hot drink,

Some lemon and honey,

Looking at my face,

I sure do look funny.

 

My nose is like Rudolph,

My eyes full of pain,

I struggle back to bed,

To sleep once again.

 

By Becky Clemett - 28th September 2000

Right Slot

 

The pea is in the right slot,

That’s all that I an say,

I can think, laugh and move about,

Just like anyone else today.

 

My meta-cognition is on fire,

As I tackle all my tasks,

I feel so good, I’ll take on the world,

For today this buzz will last.

 

I’m zooming through my workload now,

As bright as when a child,

Excitement fills me up inside,

I feel alive, so young, so wild.

 

I feel so much like me today,

For the cloud of woe has lifted,

I’ve missed the way I always was,

Before into my life it drifted.

 

Thank goodness for these days like this,

When I’m mum and wife and me,

I hope tomorrow will be just as good,

When I am happy content and free.

 

By Becky Clemett - 2015