Poems By Mary

My home is my sanctuary’ 
Cocooned ‘ a fire in the grate 

with the hot coals black’  seared with 

the fiery red eating into the heart ‘

a lump of coal ‘ from deep within the 

bowels of the earth . 

Scant thought ‘ when sitting ‘ wrapped 

in the warmth ‘  watching and waiting ‘ 

My letter to Santa ‘ not yet time ‘ 

The flames leaping upwards ‘ red tinged 

with yellow ‘ l was promised ‘ a believer ‘

aged eight ‘ the fairy will take your letter ‘

The flames lengthened ‘  it was time ‘ 

Yellow with red drawn upwards into the 

dark recesses of the chimney ‘ Quick ‘ 

I threw my letter into the heart of the 

dancing flames ‘ the Christmas Fairy ‘ my heart beating wildly ‘ yes !!! my letter flew upwards

‘ l was just in tune ‘ as her red shows disappeared’ it was on its way ‘ 

I yelled to mum ‘ as she passed by ‘my letter ‘ 

I saw her shoes ‘ as they disappeared up the 

Chimney .

Mum’s reply at the time ‘ puzzling ???

Are you sure you saw her red shoes ? 

Now in my senior years ‘ the memory strong 

On Christmas Day ‘ all that was written 

I had received’ 

Of course l saw her red shoes as l truly saw them as she made a leap to fly ‘ into the chimney ‘ with my letter to Santa ‘ otherwise how could she had known ‘ after all ‘ l had written in my 

best handwriting ‘ easy for Santa Claus to read. 

Mary G. Douglas 

Where is the humanist ? within us all 

To lend an ear to the troubled in life 

An Oasis in the desert  ‘ not on the streets ‘ 

in cities or out there in the suburbs 

When stones up’ turned on the unsuspecting 

No heart is found beating 

The cold damp earth ‘ that awaits us all

In Life ‘ around us ‘ hearts are beating ‘ 

Ears are not listening’ eyes unseeing 

To the troubled in life ‘ at bond and abroad 

With stretched hand’ a plea within them 

Listen to me ‘ give me your ear 

The world can be a lonely place 

For those with a troubled mind 

Unseeing ‘ a soul within ‘ filled with desire 

To be heard and succoured ‘ their burden shared 

Out in the wilderness’ there is a jungle 

In cities’ in suburbs ‘ as once described 

A concrete jungle ‘ the scream within ‘

Listen to me ‘ give me your ear 

Not my business’ says the ‘ wind and the rain 

embers in a grate ‘ remembered well 

Lying await your be stirred’ a flame with warmth ‘ springs forth from the ashes ‘

hope springs eternal ‘ only to be dashed 

when the flicker of warmth ‘ is no more 

As the ear is clothed ‘ the eyes are glazed 

Not my business ‘ says those passing by 

Streets packed ‘ the crowds rushing by ‘

What will we have for our meal tonight ‘ 

That dress in the window ‘ must buy 

Going out tonight ‘ to the local ‘ meet with friends ‘

The streets of of life ‘ no more inviting 

than the wilderness’ the jungle ‘dangers afoot 

Through the years ‘ with roads twisting and turning ‘ with the odd cup de sac ‘ no way forward ‘ a blank wall ‘ one left to retreat 

With heart heavy ‘ limbs tired and weary 

Within the human ‘ a beating heart ‘ 

loving and caring ‘ in the main 

Who lends an ear ‘ to the troubled in life 

and those in the streets of life  ‘ where there is none’ not my business ‘ as they rush by 

yet with pain in their heart ‘ as they stand by the grave ‘ of a loved one lost ‘ in the cold damp earth ‘ that awaits us all 

The good Samaratin ‘ found in the Bible 

He ain’t’ there in the jungle of life 

One goes through life ‘ unsuspecting 

Out there in the jungle ‘ a tiger is waiting ‘

The end is quick . In the jungle of life 

The cat plays with the mouse til’ it’s heart stops beating’ with cold indifference 

moves onto another ‘ ready to pounce 

on the unsuspecting’ where is the human ‘

within us all’ whose needs are wanting 

in the jungle of life ‘ no one is listening 

as the pain within us ‘ unseeing 

The world is hurting ‘ if without our hearing 

or all seeing ‘ not our business ‘ until close to home 

Then we are listening and all seeing 

Hope springs eternal  ‘ an awareness’ 

that the world does not stop ‘ at the end of our road . 

 Mary G. Douglas 

The night is long as sleep evades me
Tossing and turning
On my left then on my right
A few bicycle turns of my flailing lower limbs
Constant stream of music from a collection
A welcome gift from my granddaughter
200 favourites from over decades past
Famous singers long since past
Leaving a legacy for eternity
A cup of tea might do the trick
A snack or two munch munch
Singers of the past : their soothing voices
Crooners singing of their own heartache
Love lost for ever
Poignant words of unrequited
One’s own past racing thoughts unforgotten
Fond memories of childhood
The birthday treat of a bar of Cadbury
Scoffed two days before a special day
A milestone two more days ahead
Five years of age ? Seems like yesterday
Time is transient
Eighty years plus within my heart and my head
The child of five within lives on
With a smile
The day of reckoning as the milestone reached
Mother undos the outer wrapping
I sit there on the army blanket with my five friends
What were my thoughts ? On reflection now
A sense of resignation
Was l troubled? On reflection not a jot
The memory of scoffing a whole bar of chocolate
Rationing was such, did l care of the consequences
Indeed l did not as the pleasure of the memory
The taste of the chocolate was balm to my soul
World War 11 was the unknown barrier
Sitting on the grey blanket as mother unwrapped the inner casing enveloping the
Layers of newspaper
At the time of ingenuity solving the problem
The loo paper of the Forties
Hanging on a string in the communal
Sitting there on the grey blanket awaiting the moment
The voice of mother questioning
Mary? Did you eat the chocolate ?
Inside my head thought l
Of course l ate the chocolate but denial of same
Come with me, the inevitable had arrived
Off l trotted behind mother to meet my fate
As instructed l sat on the large bed with brass
railing at the head and foot
The Haven during the dark of night
Now was the seat of learning to await the voice of mother
With a soothing voice she said
I will not be angry if you tell the truth
A deal thought l
Yes l did eat the chocolate
The eyes
My dad was correct as our eyes met
The eyes are the mirror of the soul!!!
Noting the change
The expected was meted out
A light tap of my mother’s hand on my derrière
Hardly felt but undignified
I had no fear of my loving mother
She crossed a line
Saying one thing yet doing the other
I stood up with hands on hips
Well said l
I told a lie but you told a bigger one
With that l stomped off
The eyes are the mirror of the soul
The twinkle of amusement was my get out of jail card
Knowledge is Power
Mother followed behind as l made my way back to where my friends were sitting
The grey blanket from World War 1
I sat myself down
Was this the beginning and the end of my birthday party ?
The voice of mother
Children Mary ate all of the chocolate
Handing out a tiny glass of lemonade to myself and my friends
Did l feel guilty ? Indeed l did not
After all it was my birthday’ not theirs
We spent the afternoon doing the usual
The games played of that era
Despite the fact of no chocolate treat
Fun was had by us all
Mothers arrived to collect their respective daughter
Met with a tale in unison
Mary ate all the chocolate and all we had was the lemonade
Did l care ? Not a jot
It was my birthday treat not theirs
The memory of climbing onto a chair
Lifting the bar of chocolate from up high
Laying it flat on the sideboard
The wrapping luxurious on inspection
Surrounded by silence of the kitchen
Mother in the large parlour room where we slept and played
Decades seven plus
Opening the luxurious wrapping
The milk chocolate bar was a beautiful sight
1945 the year WW11 ended
Decades seven plus
Rationing of treats ongoing and accepted
The memory of the Cadbury bar scoffed two days before my 5th birthday party
Fixed memory
Whereas would l have this memory today ?
If all l had on my 5th birthday?
Was one square of the chocolate bar
In my head and my heart
Indeed l would not
When in a supermarket passing by the rows of Cadbury chocolate bars
The child within has me smile
Decades come and go with the ups and downs natural to us all
It only takes a walk past a supermarket shelf
A fleeting memory of my 5th birthday
Makes me smile
Decades seven plus
Mary G Douglas