bod you 'n' all pal!!!

I wrote this poem after spending the afternoon with my beloved brother ,he is a typical yorkshireman! When something annoys him he lets everyone know and he doesn't stop swearing for days, and when he has forgotten what he was moaning about he still likes to swear. I personally think it is genetically inherited as everyone in my family swears. This is affectionally known as a PURSEHOUSE trait.

I'm worried about my brother he just can't help but swearing, when women and kids are around his words aren't fit for sharing.
I went to see the doctor for help to see what he could do, he checked back in his medical records and said "Mmm-he's been swearing since he were two."
We can't take him out where there are people under 10, he lets rip with a string of obsceneties-finishes-and then starts all over again!
It's F-in-this an F-in-that an F-in -up yours too, if you could see the air he speaks it'd be an illuminating blue!
I just can't understand him his language is absurd but there is a bit of english between every filthy word.
His friends think he can stop this talk they say "its just a phase, i'm sure he will"
But i don't think it's as simple as that , i think hes slightly ill.
So now theres gonna be a wager and i'm taking all the bets, and 'i'll be quids in next week cos i swear he's got tourettes.

written by janine lightning october 2004

annaylsing shadows

i wrote this poem while watching the shadows on my wall, it took me back to when i was little and if there was a crack in the curtains and the light shone on the polystyrene ceiling tiles i would imagine that i could see faces on the tiles, or that the light was skeleton bones coming to get me. I was by no means a weird child just full of imagination and the free easy living of the seventies growing up on a council estate when all i had to worry about was when the ice cream van was comming.

Have you ever stopped and anylysed the shadows on the wall? you might be only 5ft 3, but you could look 10ft tall.

Then theres all the little hand gestures that make a butterfly, a rabbit and a swan, and when the light begins to fade the puppet show has gone.

Your shadow seems to follow you it never leaves your side , or falls behind.
It seems to know where you are going perhaps it reads your mind!

I wonder if my shadow is there when it is dark and i am in my bed at night.
Maybe its hiding in the corner waiting for me to turn on the light.

One day i'll catch my shadow and i'll take its hand and pull it back inside.
As i know my shadow is my spirit and i don't need it till i've died.

written by janine lightning august 2009.

Therapy For Therapy

I wrote this poem in may 2008 after someone who is very dear to me needed therapy for mental health issues, the therapy seemed to lead to all other areas that this person never realised that they had problems in !! After the initial shock and devastation and alot of empathy, i being my usual self laughed and said that i could feel a poem coming on. The person in question is aware of my poem and is infact very honoured that i have helped add a bit of humour to the situation that they found themselves in. It is in no way meant to be disrespectful to anyone with or dealing with mental health issues it is simply a case of 'if i don't laugh i will cry anyway'.


I went to have some therapy to release a bit of stress, but something must have gone wrong cos my heads in quite a mess.
I'm more stressed and worried than i ever was before, i can't turn out the light at night cos i see shadows at the door.
I don't seem to get on with anyone, i'm meant to be alone, i'm so paranoid right now i've made a fortress of my home.
I don't see an end to this, i don't know when i'm going to get better? I'm going to see another psychiatrist, i've just received his letter.
I have to open up my mind challenge my thoughts and conquer all my fears, but when i start to talk about my problems i end up in floods of tears.
So now i need MORE therapy for the therapy, cos i've opened up a box of fireworks thats ready to explode, i need to shift the burden i need to share the load.
I cannnot cope when i try to unravel the inner circles of coils mixed up within my head, i count to ten take a tablet and rush myself to bed.
Dear God help me as i only asked for peace within my soul, my life as spiralled out, i'm beyond my depth i'm sinking in a hole.
My 'friends' have gone and left me for pastures green and new, i'm running out of steam, what more if anything can i do?
Now i need more therapy for the therapy i've already had, i never realised before therapy that i was totally bloody mad.
Maybe its the therapy thats set me off this way, the only sure thing right now is that the shrink is going to stay.
He'll hang around for years to come stroke his cheek and nod his head, i often wonder if he's interested in anything that i've said.
What if i crack up and get sectioned on a ward they'll throw away the key, i used to be quite normal until the therapy got me.
A warning in life to people who are stressed, slowdown in life, hang back, or you could end up in therapy seeing quack after quack after quack.

written by janine lightning may 2008

To Be Someones Beautiful

I wrote this poem for an exam in braille in april 2003 i found that working with people who were blind very inspiring and quite surprised at the level of indepence that they had. It also gave me an insite into their daily struggles and i have the upmost respect for people living with disabilites especially in the 'got to be perfect society'of today. I tried to imagine what beautiful could mean to someone if they had no visual concept of the meaning, just feelings and emotions. I hope you appreciate it as i wrote it with some very special people in mind, who will stay in my thoughts forever


To be someones beautiful, the apple of their eye.
The reason for them living, their angel in the sky.

To be someones beautiful is an honour and a pleasure.
The shining star that lights their way, their rainbow full of treasure.

To be someones beautiful is to feel it in your heart.
The beauty can grow day by day , or it can be there right from the start.

To be someones beautiful is the best thing you could be.
I hope i'm someones beautiful ,so that they can feel like me.

To be someones beautiful is to share the feelings and dreams which you have.
We all feel beautiful at some point, when we become a mum or a dad.
Or maybe just a friend on which we can rely, to share our woes or reduce our fears or for comfort when we cry.

To be someones beautiful is to be regarded in the highest degree.
To have respect and understanding of someone else, it makes you feel free.
Free of spirit, free of hate, free and full of love.
So if you're lucky enough to be someones beautiful,-then you,ve been blessed from up above.


written by janine lightning april 2003

little notes

these were written one winters evening when i was thinking of contradictions for my children for homework - but they had gone to bed and i was sat relaxing with a friend and a bailey's!!!
One summers day in December it was sunny and cold.
The wind was still and blustery, and the snow fell on the spring daffodils.

Once upon a lazy day when i was busy, my head was full of empty thoughts of tomorrows memories.

Silence is the noise we hear when noise is silent.

Tomorrow holds our dreams, yesterday holds our memories and today holds our time.

what this is for

hi
this is my story so far
the content of this site is everything that i have written myself most of it is my poetry it is my way of expressing the happy, funny and down right annoying things that have cropped up through my life so far. I find that the poetry gives it a humourous view after the event and i find people respond to happy things in life even if the subject is quite stressfull
i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i have enjoyed writng it