Poems By Mary

The wall of silence . essential for our mental well-being 

On Closing the curtains . Switching of lights 

With only the moon and the stars in the dark of night 

Solace for those confined within four walls 

Those imprisoned, their freedom controlled 

The eyes unseeing , sightless yet with a heart

beating , with a passion for life 

Hearing more acute to the sounds of creaking flooring as they walk to and fro 

The bus heaving with bodies all shapes and sizes 

Not a sound to be heard , but the sound of breathing , coughing or sneezing. 

The occasional wail of a child , the murmuring of conversation 

A common occurrence can shatter the peace 

A hand clutching an iPhone ?  All laid bare of private lives , no blushes spared , whether the travelling public interested or disinterested , they are left with no imagination of how chaotic life can be 

Thankful not their business, silent witness to a plethora of facts? best left at home behind their own front door 

Solitude is magnitude , one’s space allowing thoughts to ponder on little or much 

The elderly lady today when attempting to step off the bus 

She asked no help , but when offered welcomed 

The weight of the mobile seat on wheels 

As lifting off the bus platform onto the pavement below 

What on earth was she carrying within the boxed seat ? 

Maybe all she owned ?  imagined what if ? 

full of bags of money , her life savings ? 

It certainly felt heavy ? A ton of weight 

Love a daily trip to the City , a walk through the gardens 

Today bus in opposite direction? 

World is full of two legged rats, not often met 

Draw the line of being curious ? if Princes Street now with the four legged rats scurrying around 

Going from bin to bin to burrow one’s nose amongst the flotsam and jetsam

A gem amongst the pebbles and rubble 

A tasty pizza or fish and chips ? followed by a desert ? the crumbs of cake chocolate or biscuits inside carelessly thrown wrappings 

The rat world now expanding ? the word has gone round ?  

Dalkeith on arrival , streets clean and tidy but for the odd  butt?  Not surprising ? complaints from the millions passed by on the streets ? 

Are those the same complaining ? Not

enough to eat ? children with a sit down meal of chips or a burger ? 

Supermarket cafe ? Announcing children eat free 

Mum and dad with their meal deal 

If did shopping in same supermarket , healthy options in abundance? yet packaged additive laced microwaved convenience meals ‘ all an expensive route to go down 

What happened to porridge with a spoonful of home made jam for b/ fast : a snack for lunch with a cooked dinner of home made soup  main course  and pudding , memories of my childhood during World War 11

Black market sleight of hand , over the counter when enjoying a pint ?  The uncle and aunt with an allotment , 

Each child given a small bottle of milk . A spoonful of malt and small bottle of pressed orange juice . 

The seniors jumping off and on buses , armed with their pass to freedom , without this brigade of the seniors ? doubt there would be a need for a flotilla of buses in cities and on the motorways ?  

Electric wheelchairs , zimmers on wheels , boxed seats on wheels with a brake ? The world is our oyster ‘ no sitting at home watching telly for me , for those the bingo game or dominoes at local community centre 

Not for me and others   

The bus to and from city to city ‘ or on the train when running ?

There is a niggle , lurking in the background 

The day a bus is driverless , they will be one passenger less 

Mary G Douglas 

Inspiration comes from within 

It’s spontaneity has no beginning nor an end

Early years of motherhood sparks off 

creative thoughts 

Fond memories of sitting listening to storytelling 

sitting at my mother’s knee 

A joy embedded , never to be forgotten. 

each night before going to bed 

The child never grows up?  It is a lifelong friend 

Reminiscing is balm to the soul 

From listening to a story told ? to narrating 

a story once told to me 

motherhood stirs the joy of reliving those precious tender years 

The history of fairy tales never fade with Time 

The child lives on within the minds and hearts of us all 

Decades come decades go as Time marches on 

The art of storytelling is Timeless 

Mary G. Douglas 

We enter this world crying 

It is the clarion cry of the newborn 

The unknown awaits us , all we ask of this world 

Feed and clothe us 

Simple requests for survival 

The child is quickly initiated on how simple requests can be complex 

We have no control on where we are born and raised 

The planet does not prepare us for entry into how hospitable or inhospitable it can be 

No guarantees given?  From the jungle out in the wilderness to the jungle of modern civilisation 
The luck of the draw? The Lottery with tick boxes ?

North South East West halved and quartered with a spot chosen without your permission?

Once upon a time , it was thought by many, their world stopped at their front door or the street lived in or if out in the jungle?

A river nearby not crossed?

Survival of the fittest , whether in the jungle or living in the maze of the civilised world 

The child well fed and clothed and astute aged five

Daydream of who or what they want to be when an adult 

In the nineteenth century , aspirations limited 

The few given opportunities , seizing the day 

With modern technology ? the world is your oyster? yet more of more less appealing if means lifting a shovel or getting one’s hands dirty ?

I want to study mindfulness? What is that? says one’s exasperated parents. 

A pause? as the teenager now nearing the age of thirty five struggles with finding an answer.

In 1900 there were young climbing up into the dark recesses of chimneys, not through choice 

in 2020 there are those of all ages searching within the dark recesses of their head space

with an elongated pause? 

Walk along any streets of any city in the western world 

Placards festoon the windows of shops and takeaways 

Vacancies staff wanted? yet a percentage of the population cannot find employment?

Freedom means accepting responsibility and if to be revered 

Nations are built on the backs of those who revere freedom 

It is my life says many, l can do what l want as they gaze at their naval ? with iPhone attached to ear plugs to shut out the world around them

Their world self contained within?

Little understanding on how the March of Time can tip the balance ?

Between Democracy and Autocracy?

The bank of Society is reliant on the majority 

and mindfulness has a rude awakening?

if the  mind if full of useless information 

There is a limit on the reliance on the bank of 

those who set up business on administering mindfulness? 

One requires an office , a table and a couple of chairs?  with a lap top to virtually one to one 

create an environment for mindfulness to take place ?

Cynical is as cynical does?  

Mindful on how centuries past, on the backs of the ants on the hill , carrying on their backs 

their respective burden , trudging onwards and upwards towards the pinnacle of success 

The proof is there for all to survey,

The magnificence of cities with a cathedral 

and streets , avenues and boulevards of stone carved and fashioned into blocks 

All from the backs of those over the centuries past 

Now with technology fast and furious enveloping our modern world in a protective shield ? 

Mindfulness on how to survive in this age of technology ? to not be seen and not to be heard ? unless one has had the mindfulness to keep up with fast moving art of communication 

Stone built  was not built in a day? took centuries of toil to fashion the cities of today .

Has the modern world been fashioned only for the virtual truth to be known 

Communication is virtually impossible for those in Society? 

How do l find out how to communicate with a company or the local councillor, or the doctor , the butcher , the grocer , the Candlemaker?

Algorithms? What’s APP?  

If neither sitting gazing at one’s naval with the expertise of the virtual world on one’s iPhone 

or having an appointed professional minder assist me with my mindfulness of need to be fed and clothed , with a roof over my head ?

It befalls to a generation ? who were not weaned on modern technology, if want to communicate outside one’s front door ?

To have the mindfulness to book a course on mindfulness on how to navigate the Web?

The story of “ The walls of Jericho “ centuries later with its hidden scrolls unearthed ?

now being studied by researchers sitting on a chair at a table in an office ?

Goodness me ? never a thought given on how it got there ? 

Centuries of those who toiled ‘ old age not for them , as with the ants marching one by one , with their burden to carry varied , onwards and upwards up the hill ? if one cannot achieve its mission? the ants keep marching , leaving behind those who can’t .

We cannot all be professors, politicians or researchers 

Why not lift one’s naval gazing mindfulness to apply for a vacancy ? No experience required 

the apprenticeship of how to survive in this modern world 

Take a tip from those who did , no barriers to those who seized the day ? 

regardless of impediments affecting their choice 

The world is your oyster if one has ambition 

The mundane employment, can open doors 

as this modern world offers much if one lifts one ‘s eyes and looks beyond ‘ outside their own narrow mindfulness of their lack of imagination and innovation. 

There is a niche for the majority with ‘ mindfulness of those whose needs are reliant on the able of society

If all that is wrong with one ? is a lack of mindfulness?  if mentally and physically able then who who knows what one can achieve ?

The advert in the window , vacancy for staff ? no experience required?  

Mary G. Douglas

Overhead on radio this evening
Out there in outer space Planet Earth?
Is just a dot
This puts us Humans on Planet Earth into
perspective
Why do we care about how others view us ?
When all and sundry ? If seen from outer
space ?
our presence is no more or no less? 
Unseen as we go about the business of our lives’ in the minds of others?
Yet give a dot if others ignore our existence ?
Do we matter less? than how another view their own existence in comparison to others ?
Congested streets of every City?
Those whose opinion of others ? is one of disdain? Judging by the ‘ air of superiority ‘ on their countenance?
One walks on the straight of pavement ahead ?
Until stopped in one’s tracks?
The peripheral vision of what blocks one’s stride
Has it been diminished? owing to eyes down
One hand held high? mobile phone clutched
eyes locked as this “ Human crosses one’s path
Pointless exercise making it known that One exists
The fleeting moment of this moving obstacle
Has silently entered through the doors of a
large store
On a mission to buy a pair of socks ? or hope
that the bargain noted on their mobile?
A desire to find if the store has one in their size
Who knows what is going on in their thoughts?
No aforethought in their head, to be deliberately rude
Influenced by their lack of insight ?
Owing to a potential diminishing of their eyesight?  to their left or to their right unseen
If you don’t use it ? you lose it ?
A metaphor on how others in one’s life ?
Mentally ignore one’s existence? and why?
Pointless searching for a reason ? when no reason surfaces within one’s mind ?
Giving a jot? is self defeating?
Does it matter? in the scheme of Life
Do unto others as others do to oneself ?
It matters not to take such a route ?
As all it does? is diminish oneself and not to be considered.
City streets thronging with mums dads with their children and those alone and lonely
Those who sit dejectedly up against a wall , with hope in their eyes
Their paper cup forlornly sitting empty?
We all matter? 
However another matter of how the passion within
To empty one’s purse or wallet of all within
Common sense must prevail
Yet is the gnawing pain of starvation within oneself ?
The doors of a takeaway looms ahead
Finding oneself standing patiently in a queue
Meal with a drink bought ? A soft drink safest
Clutching the items bought , making one’s way out into the dark of the night
The eyes previously lacking lustre
Light up
As lay the box containing a hot meal of chicken pieces and chips, into the outstretched hands
and placing the drink by his side
The warmth of his smile ‘ a polite nod and  in response likewise with a nod and a smile .
Does it matter if a person/s are unseeing of oneself ‘ and of others ? with no malice aforethought?
What does matter is acknowledging what is seen
The plight of another human being with a need to be noticed ?  Responding to his request for a bite to eat?
Tonight the action of satisfying the need of another? knowing when home?  A fridge and cupboards with all awaiting?
The warmth of central heating with table & chair.
A fleeting thought entered my head, as l overheard the voice on the radio.
Out there in the universe , that Planet Earth is just a dot.
Reflection on how others can ignore the existence of oneself ? in comparison to how view their existence on Planet Earth
Does one give a jot ? Indeed we do ? However two wrongs don’t make a right.
Hence one is as one does .
Why be offended? as there may be no
aforementioned offence intended .
As with those who? on the streets of the City ?
Only see their own needs to be met ?
Not only peripheral vision reduced ? How one behaves towards others?
Remember your manners ? ringing in my ears
Childhood memories of how to behave towards others instilled within us all .
After all ? Planet Earth viewed in Outer Space
is just a dot.
If  one does not give a jot of how it affects another?
It lessens them more , than the one they have ignored.
After all? we are all , only a dot on the Horizon when viewed from Outer Space?
Mary G. Douglas

I lie here imagining on a beach 

High in the clear blue sky 

With the rays of the sun encompassing 

Eyes closed as l lay on my bed waiting for sleep to waft over me 

It did not work ? 

A book at bedtime strongly advised 

It does not work 

Out and about during the day 

The sun shining weakened by the strength of the wind 

Waterproof coat with lining for warmth 

Stud fasteners firmly in place ‘ up to the chin 

Trousered with warm home knitted socks and boots on the ground firm resolve of one step followed by another , building up a rhythm 

Homeward bound ; wasting no time 

The leaves lying in layers upon layers flying around 

Upwards and onwards dancing to the tune of the howling of the wind 

Battered and drained holding fast

On a mission to reach the safe haven of home 

Once inside and wind left to its journey onward and upwards 

Kettle on , a cup of tea with milk and two sugar 

What bliss 

Followed by a rest on top of my bed 

Radio on in background ? What was the voice saying 

Close your eyes and imagine lying on a beach 

with the warmth of a sun’s rays beating down 

Dutifully did as suggested 

Lay there waiting for the point of drifting off to sleep 

It did not work ? 

A book at bedtime will do the trick 

On opening my eyes ? 

It was early morning , around seven 

Proving that reading a book at bedtime 

More powerful than one’s imagination of 

lying on a beach with the sun’s rays beating down 

Rested followed by breakfast 

Showered and dressed wearing a waterproof coat 

with lining for warmth

Stud fasteners up to the chin , trousered , wearing hand knitted socks

With boots fastened firm , door to the elements 

A glutton for punishment and yet 

With a firm step followed by another 

Set forth on my determination to walk a mile or two 

The wind at my back , it did not take long 

To navigate a mile and another 

Sleep is bliss when the day turns into night 

Walking a mile plus another , lends well 

to sleep taking over 

Our tomorrows become our yesterdays 

Idling at home 

Sitting on a sofa , not a preference

If have the freedom to wrap up and out with a plan to walk a mile and another 

Sleep when beckons is a restful sleep 

It works . 

Mary G. Douglas 

Parents were once upon a time babes in arms 

A journey we all go on , with a beginning

and an ending

Babes with parents who are going through a journey into the unknown 
There is no apprenticeship, as we all have 

the determination to not make the mistakes 

our parents made 

There is no blueprint , no guarantees 

It is a journey of mystery and cul de sacs 

The child of your imagination is not what one gets 

Eats during the day , sleeps during the night 

Who is in charge ? Not mum nor dad 

The bundle of joy with vocal chords heralding their entrance, 

A new born armed with the power to make known 

Their expectations? yet no self awareness 

The primeval instinct is to use their vocal power to demand 

The mother does as mothers do all over the world 

From castles to the humble tent in the desert sands 

Give what has been given to them by the laws of nature 

The child nestling in its mother’s arms 

The milk spurts forth , surrounded by a silence 

ethereal 

A bonding of the past: present:future for eternity 

Reality sets in 

The doll of one’s childhood fades into the past 

This child born is relentless 

I want , l need , l must have 

Parent/s are in tune with this desire 

I want , l need , l must have 

The longing for sleep? the plea for one hour 

maybe two 

There is no apprenticeship 

All the handbooks giving advice are tossed in the bin 

This is what it is? a journey we all go on

Our memories of the trial and errors of our journey from self awareness , the games played 

I want l need l must have 

Now replicated?  the shock of Realism sets in 

This is the beginning of a Lifetime of dedication 

A journey with leaps abound moving onwards and upwards 

Pit stops aplenty that are round every corner 

A road ahead 

Full of high expectation for a smooth path 

From the babe in one’s arms to the senior citizen with a Lifetime of memories of much that gave joy 

The pit stops?  when one has to take stock 

The rough with the smooth 

On reflection a mixture of the Highs and the Lows 

A knitted garment with its dropped stitches :

an unravelling of row upon row 

Start again with a conviction not to drop any more stitches .

As round every bend and cul de sac when journeying on the road there is much adding to the “ joys “ of Life 

Not yet the finished article

Mary G. Douglas