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© Louisa Reid, 20/11/2016

Age, illness, poverty, some even face homelessness. I think quite a few people face what this poem is written about.

Life had been up and down, and living it seemed a nightmare
Imagine how you spend your day and you don't have friends who care
You used to work, enjoyed your time, you used to love what you did
But now you'd dropped off your world... you didn't ask for your skid
You had surgery, you had a stroke, you didn't even know
Your memory vanished, your speech had gone, you didn't know where to go
One by one people walked away, you didn't know about 'when'
Your income dried up, recovery too long, you'd never be normal again
Hugs that you'd loved were gone too soon, writing became just your life
The only thing that you now could do to stay out of strife
You shut yourself into your little room, your voice disappeared too
Your tears were just for you now, you hid them because you knew
You thought about what was up ahead, where you'd be on your own
You planned to leave, to catch up with your mum, to walk into the unknown
No-one who cared, no-one who came, no-one you could love
They didn't come back when you chose to leave, their push seemed to turn into shove
So now it was the end of your time, you'd worked out how to do it
No-one noticed you shutting the door, no-one else seemed to fit
You lay down to end this miserable life, to sleep, to go see your mum
You could see her, you could hear her say 'I love you, just come'
And when your life had gone, and you lay there with no reason to cry
You'd never hear the people who came, and who had to ask

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© Louisa Reid, 31/7/2016

Some of my poetry has been around many questions. This one looked at how people look at their childhood and how they compare it to their 'now'.

When did you last think about living?
Did you push it to the back of your mind?
Are you happy with the now day?
What do you think you would find?


Remember your past, your childhood?
Or your home, which never seemed poor for you?
Was it so good, with wonderful parents?
Who stayed at home and looked after you?

Did you live a fun life playing with friends?
What did you eat, if you didn't have much cash?
Did you enjoy that? Were you so happy?
Why don't you think your childhood was flash?

Were you normal, disabled, rich or scared?
Did you live in the pink or the blue?
How did you get along in adulthood?
How does your life treat you?

When do you look towards the end of your life?
Are you really happy these days?
Do you wonder what is getting to you?
Have you earned your wonderful praise?

Didn't you enjoy it, growing up so many years ago?
Was your life straight or round a bend?
What do now days mean to you?
Are you looking forward to the future... or the end?

Too many questions I've asked today...
Your life might never have been told.
Happiness is when you feel so good about your childhood.
Don't ever leave it untold.

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What am I doing... who am I?

© Louisa Reid, 28/5/2016

This year I've been behind in writing poetry. Sometimes I throw some words at a page and eventually I like them. See what you think of this one.

What am I doing - who am I?
Am I sitting inside, or out under the sky?
Is it dark or a day - is there a sun?
Are there clouds up there? Am I having fun?


Who sits with me and talks about much?
Are their stories kept locked in their little tight clutch?
What do I wear? Does it stand up in crowds?
Do I listen to music? Is noise too loud?

What am I doing - where am I today?
Am I joining with friends for a meal we'll pay?
Where do we meet? Is a pub quite near?
Close to them, or closer to here?

Who drives to meet - them or me?
Further to drive - or close with ease?
Is coffee in town or inside here?
Does weather not count - or does it leave fear?

Do you play cards with others? Prefer to dance?
Will you walk normally or jump and prance?
Is my life too long? How old are you?
Do you think of aged people? Did they care too?

What do you think when you life is ending?
Does your history come back; might it need mending?
How will you finish? Will you smile when you die?
What am I doing? Tell me... who am I?

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© Louisa Reid, 9/1/2016

Colours engage most people, and there are some beautiful clothes out there. What are your colours and why do you choose them?

She was born years ago, not yet able to think
Her mother dressed her in things she called pink
When she grew older she wore what she'd seen
She figured her colour was specially green
In her teen age she thought when she looked at the sea
She loved the new colour, most definitely blue
At twenty she reached a new adult age
And she turned around and donned some sage
She filed that away, her mind thought ahead
So she put on new colours - mostly just red
She'd thought of trying yellow, so brightly tied
But it didn't suit her so she tried colour-dyed
And purple was pretty but lilac was old
At least for her, and she needed some gold
She headed to old - she was now 59
And a suitable colour was a merlot wine
But 10 more years, with no partner aside
She turned to floral, knowing what it would hide
Now she is old, colours made her think
Men wear navy, many women still choose pink
Young girls choose orange and boys like brown
Until they grow up and choose to wind down
But her? Most colours were far too bright
So now she wears non-colours, black and white

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[love is more thicker than forget]

© e.e. cummings from Complete Poems 1904-1962, edited by George J. Firmage. Copyright 1926, 1954, 1991 by the Trustees for the E.E. Cummings Trust. Copyright © 1985 by George James Firmage
Source: Poetry (January 1939)

I chose to print this poem because I think it's wonderful thoughts for life.

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

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Full Moon

© Louisa Reid, 2/1/2016

The Redcliffe Peninsula Poet's Group is having a concert for the Valentines Day this year, so I wrote this little love poem. This tells a tale of unreal men.

Looking out on the full, full moon on the eve of Valentine's Day
I thought of my love, a wonderful man and wondered what he would say

Would he tell me how much he had loved? Would he tell me who he'd fell for?
Would he mention my name, would he compare me? I watched the full moon start to soar

It swirled around with the man on its face looking down upon Earth
He blinked, then smiled, then winked at me! I felt like I'd just been re-birthed!

"Are you alive?" I asked the Man "How do you really live?"
He smiled at me and took a deep breath, knowing what he would give

"Trust in me," he said to me in a whispered voice very light
"I can tell truth, not lies at all - this word is about this night."

I sat down on Earth, feeling so tired; the Moon man blew over me
His breath was sweet, he whispered to me about things I needed to see

I saw a man, a tall one, dark hair - he smiled and waved at me
Beside him approached another kind gent; he was stable - like a birch tree

From out of my sight, from left and from right walked three more men smiling truly
Ginger and black and blonde mixed in, and muscles flexed so coolly

I knew my eyes were shut as he talked - it seemed, just to me, like a dream
All of those men lined up in the front seemed to glow with a gleam

I shook my head, not wanting to lose, but all of them seemed to vanish
Well, all except one, a marvelous male, and I felt myself turned Pollyannish

The Moon man smiled, and started to leave... "Wait!" I called out to him
"What's going on? I don't want you to leave!" He smiled and spoke as he dimmed

"You found a man, the right one for you, just keep him, he's now just yours
Just treat him as well as you want him with you and there'll never be any flaws."

On that little whisper he just disappeared, the moon began to fade
And the man appearing in front of me convinced me he'd just been made

He extended his arm, I held out my hand, our skins met with a glow
And with this delightful man who now was mine, we knew we had love to grow

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