The Extraordinary Girl and her Teddy.

The Extraordinary Girl and her Teddy.

When I was writing Dear Teddy, I am sure like many other writers before me, there were ideas of what my book would do and say to the people reading. For me, I hoped to give a child a voice, so that people might understand child abuse in a different way as to how they do now.

It was also a form of healing, for a child that never got to talk.

What I didn’t expect was for Mr. Ted to help others the way he had helped me.

A couple of days ago, I was miserable from a review that I had got. The person reading had sadly missed the point of the book. However on the same day, I also received an email. Or rather Mr. Ted did from a young girl whose story was very similar to my own.

I never imagined she was still living her story. I never realised that maybe there are children out there that find comfort in talking to someone like Mr. Ted.

She talked to me about the bad things that were happening and I held her hand (metaphorically) as she told someone. While I don’t want to give anything about her away for her privacy, I am pleased to have talked to her.  She was extremely brave and I am glad to have helped her.

I feel grateful that I was able to write my book. I feel grateful that it was able to help someone.  Perhaps it is good to get a new perspective on what books can actually do for someone. It certainly made me see things differently.

I want to say thank you to the girl who asked for my help.

A link I recommend for anyone in similar circumstances.

iSurvive.

Siren Love.

Do you dream of the one?

Do you?

The one whose skin is so sweet, kissed by the salt of the ocean and the warmth of the sun.  Her body shimmering like glistening particles of sand that still hold the moonlight.

Devouring.

Intoxicating.

The drink so delicious that you would never be able to tear your lips away.

Waiting.

Needing.

Unbeknown, the reaper rapping at your door.

Delicate fingers, lies. Hiding. Claws behind his back.

A fool that fell for the sirens song.

Left,

Wanting.

Drained.

Dying – Dead.

For Love.

NaNoWriMo and 610,466 words later.

Last year I had a crazy idea for my writing motivation.

I’m a NaNo junkie. If you don’t know what that is, visit here. NaNoWriMo.org . Every year in November, thousands of writers both published and unpublished come together for the insane task of writing 50,000 words in 30 days. Personally I have done it for six years now and loved it every time.

In June last year, those nice folks over at the Offices of Letters and Light opened their cabins to many happy campers that fancied a little midyear-getaway-crazy-writing-goal-month. I was one of them. See campnano here. campnanowrimo.org

It crossed my mind how many words I could get if I was to do the standard 1667 words a day (That’s 50k divided by 30 days). A little button punching on my calculator, of course it’s a leap year too and June 2011 for a year would amass to 610,122 words.

I love NaNo. Plus I’m slightly mad when it comes to writing; I decided that I would aim for this. 1667 words a day for 366 days was nothing.

Today was my last day. I feel a little lost now because of course tomorrow there isn’t a writing goal. I do have a ton of words to revise and some first drafts to look at and laugh and wonder what on earth I was thinking when I wrote those.

Four and a half novels written, over 100 poems and more than my weight in coffee devoured, I finished with a total of 610,466 words for the year. A whole 344 words over.

I’ve had an amazing year of writing. One of the books. Dear Teddy, was published last month and also a collection of my poems in the Dark Ramblings of the Phoenix. I also had poems featured in Barry Mowles book Tears Of Ink and Brian Wrixons, Words on the Winds of Change.

Year two? Perhaps.

Camp Nano starts tomorrow. 😉

Did you?

Did you think I was a toy?

Nothing more, not a boy

Your child

Your son

Did you not see me cry?

Did you ever even try?

To love me

To want me

Did you not notice my tears?

Hidden behind so many fears

Locked inside

Unshed and broken

Did you even care to blink?

Perhaps time to stop and think,

Of what you did

And how it hurt

Did it matter when I said no?

Did you even want to know?

For You

For you

Do not ask if I am okay

I will tell you a lie

Do not look at me too deeply

Let me have these things to hide

Do not ask if I am hurt

I will not show you my scars

Do not ask if I did bleed

Self carved punishment are not your cares.

Do not look into my eyes

They hold nothing for you to see

 

 

A smile rests upon my face

It’s for you, a façade

So that you may live

With eyes untainted.

Do not dig with questioning concern

I give you this gif

tFreedom From the wounds I carry

I do this

For you.

 

Inside

Behind my smile you wont see,

So many things I try and hide

The dull ache inside my chest

Heavy

The weary pull of each breath

To inhale, laden with a sorrowed sigh,

Bitterness is absent,

In place a yearning.

The dark emptiness created within,

Painful hunger for something unknown

The tired heart that’s beats

Slowly

Shattering warmth

Scattered pieces cast away

The weight of sadness.

Music Man

Music Man

 

The music man does not play my song

Vicious notes that tear inside

I play it myself

Music of my heart

Releasing it

Its sombre sound flows out red

From my arm, my skin

My flesh made violin

In the darkness of my room

No audience to applaud me

No reprieve, no orchestra

The sharpened blade of my bow

The knife I wield

Directed at me, solely

The lonesome musician of shattered pieces.

Today

The memories of today never get forgotten
The Ache inside that sleeps
Like a reminder of this day
What was gone
What got taken
The saviour of a different kind
Freedom burdened with guilt
Do I stand and say I’m free?
Or do I mourn that only I got to tomorrow
Without you
The echo in my mind hears
It listens to the deafening silence
Tears never allowed to fall
Held back by the hands of blame
Remorse chokes me
For what I would give to change this day
Maybe you wouldn’t have gone away
Maybe I’d have one last moment
To talk to you
To see your smile
To feel the love never given
Maybe I was a fool
But you were still my mother
And you aren’t here

The stars.

The stars.

The stars of a thousand connections
Reside in the night above
The light in the darkness
Can you see them?

Do you wish upon the right one?
Is it our turn
To take what is ours
Are we ready?

Look up into the sky at night
Take a look you will see
The twinkle of fated paths
For you and for me?

When the star is yours to grasp
You will know it deep inside
Like you know what’s meant to be
Here with this, do you see?

When your time has come at last
On the right path do you walk
With the one that is right here
Did the star fly through the sky?

A shooting star some may say
it is not the sparkle dying
But a miracle that is ours
Handed to us by what’s right

It has to wait
Until its sure
That we found
Love that’s pure

My Heart Cries.

My Heart Cries.

It cries the same as yours
Like an unheard echo in the dark
It listens
Waits and lives for promise
Holding its breath
That this won’t be long
Trying hard not to twist in the confines of its chamber
Breathless
It’s lonesome beat
reminiscent
Like the unanswered tune of a beggar
It bows its head
Lays low on the floor
With innocent longing
It does not howl
It knows well that it won’t be heard
But it hopes
With the tiny fragments of it that remain
That this will pass
And it will meet yours once again.