Adele McLean
Trying to re-ignite my creativity! I’m interested in writing family stories and history.
Adele McLean
Trying to re-ignite my creativity! I’m interested in writing family stories and history.
Trying to re-ignite my creativity! I’m interested in writing family stories and history.
Trying to re-ignite my creativity! I’m interested in writing family stories and history.
Tether is broken Hearts out in the world alone Love breaks away now
We were much better Then his deception arrived Love’s not so honest
I thought us better Though humans, not gods, are we Stupid and simple
No one loves pain Yet all of us create it Decency is lost
Twenty three years now Yet we know each other less Sad how the years pass
Enjoy, love grows they say But resentment rests here now We are the broken
Aimlessly, adrift My heart’s arrow now broken Love, life’s deep gut punch
One you’d least expect. ‘To put bread on the table for my wife and son. Twenty-seven awful years, mainland living suits me now.’
But look at the sights! To the left, church of Mary, To the right, sorbet. ‘Don’t worry about my thoughts, your pleasure, my employer.’
Rowing and towing, quiet ripples in canal, lovely Sunday ride. Cynicism won’t blind us. Our sour, grumpy gondolier!
Half-winged, still flies. Soaring, living, healing now. Be careful out there!
Solo wing surrounds, rat race of life keeps us down. Hear the angel sound!
Ancestors beauty, Romans, Greeks, the Vatican. Hear the ancient calls!
Too careful, you die. Reckless, and alone you cry. A wing, you still fly!
Living comes with a PRICE, are you willing to pay? Humanity or
the ocean’s loud voice screaming to the collective ‘Let me show you the
PRICE we all pay now!’ Willing or not it’s happened Magic can cure us.
Oh divine mermaids hear our recovery call! Restore us together.
Wake up now and pray! Sea biscuits, sea horses, see us. Magic we pray!
Never trust a seeker, until you know how they lived How did they survive?
Little girl left alone, Dad’s train delayed, Mom’s dead now. Southern secret still!
Love’s around, yet missed. ‘Where has my family gone?’ ‘Grandma? Auntie? Dad?’
Ignore feelings, thus the pretense survives. All proud. Must impress. Be good.
Go to church! Behave! Feelings make you too subject to ridicule, shame.
Then still one morning aha, my spirit! My righteous Mother.
Devoid of feelings, going to church for show and tell. The child survives still.
Trust your instinct! NO! Yes, trust your instinct, you know! Little girl, still lost.
Surviving her life, never growing in her own. Trust her life lesson
Do the work, or not. Her soul’s black barrenness stays. Go to church! Behave!