JAE ROSE

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/women-and-history.html

It’s curious – does being a woman come from inside or out

My body changes, but I no longer look down at my feet when I walk

My thoughts are changing too –

Quick sticks, polish the flowers, sweep the floor 

There is no rush to get to the ball

I think she is a woman, although trapped inside a story as a child

I look to the strong (grown) woman who sings

As I begin to find my (sober) voice –

I like that I am learning, that I do not need potions or cake to shrink – or grow 

And so I will run bare foot along the shore 

Rise up from the roiling waves 

Burn as strong as a pile of cinders

The world is opening up, I think

There are possibilities  – windows and doors

I say to myself – ‘I don’t want to be no man’s woman 

I’ve other work to get done’. 

“I don’t want to be no man’s woman…I’ve other work I’ve got to get done..”

Sinead O’Conner

Turn of Phrase

Orange magpie feather 

Tumble, tumble down the hill 

Bird man flies

So lost, so found 

Pick up dust, move on 

Wind soothes and bites

Tea placed on the table 

Cooling, cooling 

Ready to sip 

Noise hurts

Light hurts

So much banging

Inside

Outside

Drift to the stars 

Orange magpie feather

A distant time

A distant place

All will be well 

All will be well

– In the end. 

Haibun Monday 3-2-26: A “Life on Mars” Tribute

I don’t know how I will step out of my skin. If It will unzip like a winter frost and leave me bare as a tree branch in winter. I suppose it it part of the journey we cannot overlook or completely understand before it happens. I hope there will be peace. That I will have someone’s hand to hold. That a breeze from an open window will soothe my passing soul. 

I imagine the cool air tending a tried body. Opening up the final moments to love and light.

Casting me far and high into space. So that my life will become as magical in knowing that there is life on Mars. 

Winter wind soothes

Tired branches sway in time

The world is ready to leave.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/02/friday-writings-216-just-dance.html

I liked to tap on the wooden floor

I liked the rhythm, the pulse –

It made me feel alive, real

Like my breaths counted for something

I could beat a steady pattern for long minutes

It made me smile – though nobody saw

I think I even laughed

How good it was to be allowed to move

Even though I had to wait until the house was empty 

To dance – to come alive 

Perhaps the computer key strokes are my new dance

The place where I am allowed to exist 

The space and movement that is mine alone

Words dance too I think

Secretly I bend and stretch, reconnect with my battered body

Like a chick emerging from an egg

The spirit of dancing, being free, cannot be amputated from my soul

Not like limbs – that really makes me smile

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/02/the-unspoken.html

I wonder what else there is to say

If there is anything more than what is already written on my body

Marks without meaning 

Ink and scars alone 

I don’t mind that I don’t speak 

Because I have my secret writing life 

My world and connection with the world 

A place I want to protect 

My voice is soft but I do not need to raise it 

If people want to hear, they will 

These are the people who count 

The rest can be forgotten – 

That is what I have learnt from my many years of silence –

Less is infinitely more. 

Poetics Tuesday: Beginnings are Endings

The cool breeze comes in the window

I realise, with a gentle start, that I am happy in my world

I take cups of tea from lounge to bedroom

Write in both with increasing ease 

Nonsense really but words are words 

They help untangle the tangle

Today I will head outside, see the buildings and the morning dog walkers 

(I am getting braver with dogs. And people)

I have been giving up wondering what I would rather have

Knowing that I can only have what I make – and what is available to me

But which can be moulded like sand to create my little castle 

I like my freedom, my way of doing things – observing and noting 

Quietly even smiling – I can do most things now 

And so – I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. 

Last line taken from – 

“I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.”

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith

Q242 Hunger Makes the Best of Poetry

There has always been a hunger inside

I have filled it with – 

Music, toys, television 

Pain, blades, chemicals, pills 

All left inside and outside my body

Always deliberate – certain

Now I dine on syllables, words and stories –

The best diet I have ever chosen. 

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/02/friday-writings-215-flamethrower-at-end.html?sc=1771563710282#c6228852109254854245

I open the windows, let in the winter air

I like my toes to feel cool and free

My body snuggled in wool

Perhaps I am feeling more complete 

Building up my mind and body

Dropping a few defences which never served me well

I cradle my mug of tea in the early morning quiet

Still and dark before people wake up

Today I will walk and look up at the sky 

If only the path hadn’t been so bumpy 

But it is no good to dwell on that 

The path was the path – and all it could have been

As it is I am finding my sparkles and glows

Thinking – this is it, this is now – this is what I have

And it is like striking a match

Perhaps after all, there was light at the end of the tunnel

And silently and always –  it was a flamethrower.

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/02/blessings.html

I should count my blessings – count them one by one

That’s what they made me sing

It will surprise you what the Lord has done

It had a nice rhythm 

The singing made me happy

Words foreign on my tongue

I always got them slightly wrong but tapped a foot regardless

Quite happily perhaps  

It was a little moment away

To spend amongst the penny candles 

And broken wishes

I wonder if anyone saw me

If now they wonder why

Really there is no journey from there to here

It is all a pattern – it flows and stalls 

Like a child’s breath making up the sounds and words

I am thankful that words still come 

That we have each other

That now I am warm and clean 

Safe and loved  

Sometimes I have to wipe away what has happened 

Like wiping the fog off the mirror

But when I do, when I look at myself – it really does surprise me what I have done. 

Poetics: The Evolution of Love

Until you found me (or I found you) I never believed I could love

But you blew on the tiny birthday-cake candle

That flicker of life that was still left in my bones – 

You gave me something which at first I could not recognise, let alone understand 

I like that as well as the darkness, we have giggled eating strawberries and cream by the river

That we danced with the lights on and brushed each other’s hair 

That we just spent time lying together in silence and feeling that was ok – necessary

All part of a process – an awakening – one which only I can complete  

I will always remember you and offer you my thanks

But inside I know that the lesson you taught me was how to love myself.