Category: Love

Memories of a beautiful woman.

She was our Fairytale princess

Miles of ivory silk taffeta trimmed with lace

10,000 pearls and mother of pearl sequins

Giving a touch of grace.

Amidst the majesty of a royal wedding,

 

A beautiful woman

With a compassionate heart

Touching untouchables was her special art

At a time when HIV heartbreak

Brought devastating deaths in its wake.

 

The Indian summer of her life

Holidaying in Greece a rose still in bloom

Later in Paris a life taken too soon

In the Alma tunnel broken dreams

Smashed senselessly into smithereens.

 

We still have our memories and we still shed our tears

For your loss is immeasurable even after all these years

We have watched your sons grow into fine young men

They have carried your love forward time and again.

Rest in Peace and God bless,

You were a beautiful woman, our fairy tale princess.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

On 31st August it will be twenty years since Princess Diana passed away, my mum passed away 11 years later on the same day, we both loved Princess Diana.

One of my first blog posts was about her. This is the link:

Portrait of a Princess- Our Diana- The People’s Princess.

The image was in the public domain and able to be reproduced it came from:

058792: Visit by Diana Princess of Wales 1992
Diana Princess of Wales visiting Interconnection Systems (Plessey) in South Shields 1992. South Shields/Visits/Princess Diana Collection. Newcastle Libraries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cocoa Beach

 

It was to be the holiday of a lifetime, reunited as a family following my husband’s “unexpected” tour of duty in Iraq, we had planned a two-week vacation to Florida. Emily was devoted to Mickey Mouse and it had been her plea that had prompted me to book the holiday to keep our spirits up in those long terrifying months. We booked a stay in Orlando near Old Kissemmee and a week in Cocoa Beach so we could visit Cape Canaveral and venture as far as Daytona Beach and the Harley Davidson shop.

It was everything it had promised to be and more, we had breakfast with Donald Duck, watched the Disney Parade, saw Snow White, melted in the heat, saw real raccoons, bought trinkets in the old town of Kissemmee. We set off in the early hours of Friday 13th August to try to outrun Hurricane Charley and hoped to nestle in the safety of Cocoa Beach. Hurricane Charley had other ideas though and the hotel bravely hosted a hurricane party and we survived a little bit wet and flooded but mostly intact. Cocoa Beach Daytona and Orlando were all hit fairly badly but it didn’t spoil our holiday. There was a little eating place called Coconuts on the Beach and they served the best Nachos I have ever tasted and I always declare that if I ever win big in the lottery that my first treat will be a return visit to Cocoa Beach to bask in the heat and dine at Coconuts again, I believe it is still there.

 

Cocoa beach summer

Nacho-time at Coconuts

Hurricane hits hard.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Tonight at d’Verse we were asked to write about a memorable vacation and this was one of my favourites.

Love you to Timbuktu and back…

My mind has gone to Timbuktu

I’d like to meet it there

It may be buried amongst some books

In a scholarly “libraire”.

 

I used to know the names of towns

And fun places by the sea

But now I can’t remember where

Or what I have eaten for my tea.

 

I think it is still a novelty

To see you sitting here with me

Your face is strangely familiar

Your love and kindness plain to see.

 

You take my hand with tenderness and press it firm against your face

Somewhere my memory stirs anew and I remember your embrace.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

According to the WHO globally there are about 47 million people who have dementia, with about 9.9 million new cases each year.

This is going to be my contribution to open link night for d’Verse. With love.

Towards Troubled Waters.

 

When I was loved by you I knew who I was

When I was loved by you the sun shone daily

And I could feel the warmth on my face

And there was a seductive security in your firm embrace.

 

When I was loved by you I could rest a while

When I was loved by you I could close my eyes

And hear your gentle breath through my restless slumber

In my turbid life you were my shelter and human anchor.

 

Now I am lost at sea, tossed and torn on turbulent tides

And you have left me for the love of another

Eyes wide open and sleep eludes me now.

 

Whose pillow will support my weary head

As I sail away from the safe shelter of your love

I stow the anchor slowly as the windlass grinds to a halt.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This was written for d’Verse where Bjorn challenged us to write an Italian sonnet. I have no idea if this lives up to what I understood of the form but I did give it a go. The image was from Wikimedia and labeled for reuse.

carl_bille_-_et_skib_pc3a5_et_stormfuldt_hav

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shadows of yesterday, promises of tomorrow.

Today we took my Dad’s caravan to Kirkudbright for him. As this year has progressed I have learned to accept that it isn’t about the wealth we have or the belongings that we possess but about the moments we share with the people that we love.

Mum passed away in August 2008, she is probably still giving someone grief up there for how untimely that was at 64, as she had worked all her life and never got to draw her pension. I had emigrated to New Zealand in 2006 with my husband and the girls, and got stuck with our property falling into negative equity following the global recession and no hope of returning to the UK, and I didn’t even make it home for the funeral.

My sister held everything together. She helped Dad and sorted affairs and then continued to shoulder the weight of Dad’s illness. He was diagnosed with cancer less than six months after mum’s passing and the weight loss that we had put down to grief was actually the cancer eating away at him. He had some major surgery to remove a lung and was given fairly low odds of survival, but survive he did, and whilst he was unable to receive any chemotherapy, he was too ill and frail, he slowly healed and recovered. He was never really able to return to being an active solo captain on his boat without his beloved bosun and the years rolled by until in 2011 he got his beloved Emma dog. He then grew from strength to strength and got his first camper van in 2013, followed by an upgrade in 2015. In 2016 finally after seven years, we managed to sell our house in NZ and we returned home at the beginning of 2017.

Fast forward to today and the latest roadtrip as we were able to drive Dad’s newly acquired caravan north to Kirkudbright for him. It is these moments that make all the complexities and turmoil of the last decade somewhat worthwhile.

Driving to Kirkudbright itself was a trip down memory lane, we often went there camping as a family when we were younger, as Dad had lived there as a child. Ironically Galloway had also been a favourite haunt of my husband’s family. My husband and I honeymooned for 2 nights along the same Galloway route at the Isle of Whithorn in 1994, the car breaking down in Dumfries on the way, robbing us of a night’s money. We then camped and visited Dumfries and Galloway fairly regularly in our early marriage even partying on down for Hogmany in Portpatrick with friends on numerous occasions. Emily learned a lot on the journey northward. Every name on every road sign brought back some distant memory and now there was a new excitement as what we were embarking on was a new adventure, and a new opportunity to create new memories both for and with Dad.

Our lives can and do change so rapidly. It is important to treasure and cherish each moment that is of meaning and see it for its true value and worth especially when we live in troubling times where values seem to be challenged and dropped so readily and with such ease.

I was glad to be able to have today. I hope there will be many more days like today.

It was a day full of promise. It took a long time to get here but we got here in the end.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Are you going away with no word of farewell?

 

Mother

Died suddenly

Bereft beyond belief

I mourn her untimely passing

Tears shed

 

Still night

Stars beguile me with their beauty

My heartfelt loss immense

Grief engulfs me

Silence.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics. It is a reverse cinquain? My song choice was Tom Paxton. “The last thing on my mind”.

Tom Paxton

It’s a lesson too late for the learning
Made of sand, made of sand

It will soon be the anniversary, she passed away in 2008, suddenly without saying goodbye, she was 64, and I was on the other side of the world and didn’t even get home for the funeral. We all feel it still. She was my mum.

 

Dolores desires…

800px-smooth_miniature_dachshund_puppy

Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dachshund to be precise. It would wibble-wobble down the street, and always be at her side.

Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dutiful and loyal pedigree. It would sleep contentedly on her bed at night, in return, she would love it unconditionally.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

I wrote this for Ellen.

The image is from wikimedia and is for re-use in the public domain.

Hospital Birth

Darkest hours

Patiently pacing

Dim-lit dawn

Life-embracing.

 

Bald cry echoes

Through the walls

First born child’s

Entrance call.

Birth Newborn Sleeping Baby Girl Infant Hospital

 

This is for Jillys challenge

Where we complete the beginning of a poem and see if someone else can complete it. So this is my beginning bit.

The image was for reuse in the public domain from max pixel.

Alison Jean Hankinson

Lamentable Dementia.

 

Morgan Stanley, Epping Forest

Fisher Dogger Bight.

Cream Teas, cottage cheese

What has happened to my sight?

I had a boat the Mary Ellen

She sailed the seven seas

We braved the ocean regularly

We relished every breeze.

I sometimes think I had a wife

Whose name was Rosa May.

I’m not bitter-I enjoyed my life

But my memory has gone away.

Who are you? Why are you here?

Losing my mind is what I fear.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse open link night, and is dedicated to the people who reside at Rimu Park, Radius residential care home in Whangarei, where I used to take the students to read to the older folk.

Dementia is a cruel disease in so many ways. You have to try to build up the picture of a persons life from fragments of story. I think this is what dad would be like if he ever ended up with dementia. He sailed his boat for as long as he could after he lost his bosun and has now moved on to caravans, but the shipping forecast with its wonderful array of places was always waited for and listened to.