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A life well lived, with so much more to give

If I’d just one more day with you

I’d hold you close in a tight embrace

I’d feel your heart, I’d hear your voice

I’d feel your warmth, I’d see your face

I’d tell you how I loved your smile

I’d take your hand for a little while

I’d remember the times you picked me up

And gave me strength when things were tough

And put my needs before your own

Time and time again, even when I’d grown

Your love unending all your life

Lover, mother, sister, wife.

But life’s cruel trick, if trick it be

Was to take you from us suddenly

Our hearts are broken, things unsaid

Go round and round within our heads

No time for talk or long goodbye

No time to reminisce and sigh,

No time to tell you how we feel

The love from each of us, so real

And all that’s left are memories…

But what memories you leave

A truer saying can’t be said,

It was a life well lived

With so much more to give.

By Joanna Doyle

20th April 2016

Let’s stop using the word ‘hate’

 

 

 

Please can we all stop using the word hate,
When we talk about someone we want to berate,
We might not like them or agree with their views,
They might not live their lives as we might choose,
They might have religion or none at all,
Their political bias may often appall,
But hate is a word that enrages and inflames,
It stirs strong emotions and causes pain,
Why can’t we try, with our amazing minds,
To express our feelings in a way that’s kind.

 

Joanna Doyle
June 2017

Grief

Grief, a cloak of sadness,

with feelings not far from madness,

and pain so immense your world stands still,

and you seem to function against your will,

with a weight so heavy, bearing down,

you can’t see an end, you think you’ll drown,

in emotions so strong and so intense,

and nothing is seeming to make any sense,

but gradually, as time passes, these feelings subside,

they don’t disappear, they’re still deep inside,

but they become more manageable, life moves on,

and despite your grief for the person who’s gone,

you take steps towards some kind of normality,

not the same, but different, more aware of mortality.

Your ‘brave’ face softens, and your tears still flow,

and you reach the stage where your heart will know,

that to love and be loved was a gift so great,

that peace will follow and the grief will abate.

by Joanna Doyle

May 2017

Election time again

Heading towards another election,

I’m beginning to suffer from disaffection,

It’s all so predictable, all so trite,

All the same repetitive sound bytes,

But the sad this is, that it all matters,

We have to see through their inane patter,

People died for us to have the right,

To vote and make a difference on the night,

So role on June 8th, role on,

Let’s just get through this marathon!

Joanna Doyle

April 2017

Water

Dark and heavy, the evening water laps,

Gently caressing the pebbled shore,

How slowly does the time elapse,

In a place that I did once adore?

Mirrored clouds, across the surface ride,

In hues of murky grey and green,

What secrets do these great depths hide?

What lies beneath, as yet unseen?

By Joanna Louise Doyle

January 2017

Getting home from work…….

Getting home from work should be relaxing,

but for me it is usually extremely taxing,

today I’m met by ‘Jonny fell off his skateboard’

I assume if it was bad I’d have probably heard,

“Which bits did he hurt?”, I ask with concern,

whilst my stomach flips with that queezy churn,

“Which bits didn’t he”, was my husbands reply,

(I’m comforted when he looks me in the eye),

“Leg, hip, elbow, back….. they’re all quite a mess,

but his head hit the grass!” (so we don’t have to stress

about a head injury, we’ve already had one

and he’s still recovering – that’s my elder son)

‘How are his clothes?” (that’s a mother’s concern!)

“Amazingly, fine” he replied in return.

So I search out my son to inspect the damage,

and it’s all pretty gruesome, not sure how he managed,

to get so many wounds, but his clothes are okay,

one of those miracles, a bright spot in my day!

By Joanna Louise Doyle

January 2017

To remember

To remember is painful

Yet not to remember is painful

How do we balance the pain?

When we lose someone our brain

goes into preservation mode.

If it didn’t we would surely explode.

You want to remember them,

each tiny detail, each little gem,

lest those details start to fade

and you become afraid

that you won’t recollect the way they were

that their face may slowly become a blur,

and then you can’t recall their voice….

So now you have a choice.

Think of them often, with heavy heart

or give yourself time, to heal and start

to think of them only when

your soul feels strong enough again.

By Joanna Louise Doyle

January 2017

Thank you

For those that follow me you may remember,

(as the year nears it end and we enter December)

That this year, for us, has been fraught with pain,

A year that we’ll never want to visit again,

And throughout all the highs and considerable lows

The one thing that stands out, above all our woes,

Was the love from our neighbours, our friends and our family

Being there for us, supporting us, and thankfully

For scooping us up, when on our knees

For feeding us and helping ease

Us from day to day, then week to week

To a new kind of normal and one much less bleak

So as this year slowly draws to a close

We can’t say “Thank you” enough to all those

Who made this year just a little more bearable

To each of you, you were just totally incredible!

By Joanna Louise Doyle

December 2016