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Out Of Reach
I sit on my mobility scooteron Traeth Gele, watching waves roll infrom Liverpool Bay. The wind finds its rhythm—steady, unseen—turning blades on the horizon,white giantsharvesting what can’t be held. Nature,translated into energy. I sit there,watching,listening, as words come flying out of my mouth—too fast, too many—scattering like spray. I reach for them,try to catch each one,but they slip through— and I can’t hold them all. My words tumble and crashlike waves against the shore. They break on rocks I didn’t choose,scatter into pieces I try to gatherwith hands that don’t always dowhat I ask of them. I collect what I can—fragments, edges, almosts—but the picture never comes togetherthe way people…
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Are you OK – Reprise
A quiet reflection on healing and release, where pain gives way to strength, and a hidden burden is finally lifted — leaving behind gratitude, resilience, and the courage to begin again.
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Are You There?
We’ve all been there—drifting into the abyss,slipping out of place,until reality claws us back,kicking, screaming, unwilling. And what a reality it is. A world that hums,a world that races,people trapped inside their own little bubbles.Obsessed with drama.Drowning in demands. Your voice bounces,echoes,lost in the hollow chamber of noise.And you ask yourself—“Does anyone even hear me?” Meanwhile—someone lies in a hospital bed.Alone. Mum.Dad.Nain.Taid.Aunty. Uncle.Brother. Sister. Too far to visit.Too busy to call.Are their families there for them?The answer? … No. And when a stranger collapses in front of you,are you there? When someone is dragged to the ground,their voice cut short—are you there? No. Most turn their faces away.Most step over…
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A Bone to Pick
I’ve got a bone to pick with this world today, Where kindness fades and ego plays. Selfish minds, sharp tongues, quick hands, Spinning drama, making demands. It’s not your business, not your fight, Not your pot to stir at night. Yet here you stand, nose stuck in, Feeding the flames, thick as sin. Once, respect was something real, Hard work, strong hands on the wheel. No clicks, no likes, no viral fame, No need to make life one big game. But now the kind are dying out, And even the elders scream and shout. What happened to grace? To dignity’s place? Now all we see is a ruthless race. I’m tired of labels, of broken rules, Of people pretending…
