alisonhankinson

Days of loss.

Some days there are no happy ever afters

No pot of gold at the end of the rainbow

Inside the cloud- no silver linings

Some days the tears we weep fill the reservoirs of our soul

The magnitude of our pain and suffering is beyond remedy

Inside our heart is bereft and broken beyond repair.

Some days suffering sadness and shades of sorrow are all there is

And we must carve a new understanding of the world we know

Find a new way to find a glimmer of hope.

I have decided to link this up to d’verse for open link night. I wrote it at a very key low point last year just as I discovered I had once again become ill with a flare of Ulcerative Colitis, the first since 2012. Last week I think I hit an even lower point in my life, the disease refusing to go into remission and being forced to give in and go back on to high dose steroids. I am climbing back out of the hole. I have managed to keep working, and that in itself is an achievement and we take our crumbs where we can find them.

I wrote this early November when despair was at times overwhelming. I still believe in happy ever after- it is in my nature.

Much love. XXX

Shades of 50.

It is done, my fiftieth birthday year finally gone

Kicked the ass out of that, had a bit of fun

Moved house and home,

And now it is done.

Heartaches and happiness all in one.

What a year, glad to move on to 51.

this is a bit cheesy but all I could muster for this week’s Quadrille at d’Verse. I celebrated my fiftieth birthday in hospital and it has been a roller-coaster of a year and I think some of the biggest dips were in the last week, so I was a bit quiet….So tomorrow I start a new day, and a new year… and I will be 51.

I miss my Ellen though and would love to have her home with me. XXXX

The Eve of Samhain.

I am crone, blackened, old bones creaking, hear me cackle,

Worldy wise, decrepit and dried-out hag

At Samhain Eve, edge of darkness.

Bring back to me immortality and the light of life.

I am curdling cauldron, spewing orange bile, seething vileness

Cosmic container, holy grail to the gods

I welcome Samhain, edge of darkness

As the sun sets, I descend into darkness, and my transformation begins.

Reborn, I am acorn, I am apple- five pointed star, pentagram

Wise woman, sentinel of soulful strength.

I rejoice at Samhain, beyond the edge of darkness

As day breaks I brush away fear with my birch besom.

It is a new day, new year, a new life.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse where the theme was monsters….I haven’t really got anything in me on monsters….so this is a tale from a witch.

I am away from home, I went out in the dark to collect some acorns for my photo, but the internet is a little weak here and they won’t load….so call back later and they might be here. I saw a tiny little mouse whilst I was out but hadn’t got my camera with me.

Acorns were seen as an amulet…it is seen as strong and protective, they only appear on mature trees and they are a symbol of perseverance and fertility.

Give with a glad heart…

I watched a film this weekend that has left an indelible imprint on my mind. I wept in places as I watched and the story made my heart and soul bleed, partly because of the kindness demonstrated by the one character for the other but also partly for the complete lack of humanity and kindness shown by others in the same instance. The film was called I Daniel Blake.

I cried because of the injustice, I cried because I had felt those things this year too, I cried for the mother’s love of her children and for how she had gone without to ensure her children were well. I cried for the kindness of the old man for helping the family despite his own hardship and loss. I cried mostly for a society that seems to have forgotten how important kindness is. I cried because in my desperate hours of need I have been given kindess. I cried because even in my own desperate hours of need, my needs will have been far less significant than the needs of many others who probably also needed kindness.

Give with a glad heart.

Expect nothing in return

Kindness warms, ice melts.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse Haibun monday. The birds are just because….I feed the birds…all birds…big ones, little ones, brown ones, white ones….The seagull on the roof has a gammy leg…he still survives…

Dear daughters

It’s never too late to change direction

If the path you are on is not going to lead to the life that you wanted then be brave, take a deep breath and take the fork in the road and change direction.

Don’t settle for less than you deserve. If you earned it then value it and value yourself. Don’t let anyone rubbish your achievements however great or small they may be. Every step forward is brave and courageous when you are journeying into the unknown.

Hold love carefully in your hands and hearts, it can be fragile and can break in the gentlest breeze or be strong and cross any void or vacuum. Take it for what it is and keep it safe in your memory whether it lasted a moment, a lifetime or an eternity.

Be kind to yourself. You are all you have. Don’t wrap yourself in cotton wool, but remember you only have one life.

Be kind to others. Be compassionate. They too will have a story, it might not be the same as yours but it will have laughter and tears, love, loss and heartache.

Ask for help when you need it. Sometimes a trouble shared is a trouble halved and there are souls out there who would gladly share their last supper with another who was in need.

Remember to look upwards, see the sunrise and the sunset. Look at the stars and the skies. There is a whole universe out there waiting.

Breathe. Slowly. Breathe. Take time to be in the moment. See it for what it is and then let it go.

Love always-

Mumma. XXX

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Service announcement….in the half term break…

“Service announcement- Warehouse colleagues to the warehouse please.”

All the jobs I could have done

This one sounds like so much fun

Making announcements in a store

Calling to workers on the shop floor.

Instead I write reports and mark

Plan my lessons until it is dark

My life is ruled by lessons and bells

Punctuated by rogues and ne-er do wells.

I wouldn’t want to be a zoo-keeper

A nurse, doctor or cabinet maker

I often dream of what might be

Acting in Coronation Street might suit me.

Instead I create my schemes of work

Make presentations that sometimes work

I smile with joy when students succeed

In our tough teens I still believe.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

JUST FOR FUN. XX

Leaving it all behind…

There are days when the tragedy of life is too great to bear

When win some, lose some just won’t cut the mustard.

Winsome-wearied, weathered and worn

She hailed a taxi.

Time to get the hell out of this hateful hole

Before it swallowed her whole.

Bright skies before her, burning sun

Radiant beauty of migrant birds in flight-heading for a warmer winter shore.

Leaving was the answer of this she was sure.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This painting from Artistic Interpretations at imaginary garden with real toads. I think this one reminds me of the place she was leaving.

More Magic

Herbs and bits of stick

medicines to cure

gardening lemongrass, hogweeds, valerian.

Rituals and superstitions

lunar chart an astrological schedule

The garden thrived.

Chinese medicine, English folklore

Everyday magic

Layman’s alchemy.

Alison Jean Hankinson

A second contribution for d’Verse MTB, using the erasure style…a second stab at Magic…but from a different source….

Image-spices and herbs by futureshape.

Magic

All the house was silent

Night-light burning on the mantelpiece

Off to sleep.

Spring came

Long days in the garden

Rides in the wheelbarrow.

Long June evenings

The bracken swayed gently

The sun sank lower.

Thicket of raspberry canes growing tall

Tropical jungle in long sunlit hours

Fairy huts in the flowerbed.

Quiet evenings in the wood

A tear fell to the ground

And a flower grew.

A mysterious flower

Slender green leaves the colour of emeralds

Blossom like a golden cup.

The moon had risen

The forest was beautiful, fronds like frosted silver

Tree-trunks wild danced with their shadows.

Velvet grass dancing, the fairy kissed him

Springing jumping whirling

He was real at last.

Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is for d”verse MTB.

I ought to add this is a form called erasure or blackout.

The text was too large to put the whole as a picture….see if you can spot where it came from….The other image might help a tiny bit….it is Emily’s…shh….