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a lock of hair, snipped from my daughters’ hair still remains in an envelope in the memory box which resides under my bed. how the colour of their hair has changed over the years, from dark blonde, to white and back again.

Posted By rosylee On 01.28.2009 @ 8:28 pm

i never wanted to be a princess. i always dreamed of flying beds, as in bedknobs and broomsticks and musical numbers. quite quickly these dreams turned to nightmares and i feared going to sleep and so i didn’t. i still suffer with insomnia now. it blows.

Posted By rosylee On 01.24.2009 @ 1:23 am

today i fancy a change, yesterday i ate a ham, cheese and tomato toasted sandwich and also the day before. but now i could murder something really toothsome, although i know not what so i’ll probably end up with the ham, cheese and tomato again. perhaps i can throw in a surprise ingredient. ooo, you devil.

Posted By rosylee On 01.20.2009 @ 10:39 pm

languid and graceful, are the things that i am not. i do like to watch others, particularly ballet dances with their fluid movement. leaps and twists. i can appreciate them, but not execute them. oh well.

Posted By rosylee On 01.18.2009 @ 8:55 pm

there are veins of gold untapped. there are no words in these veins. i have no words. the words elude me. it is late and i am tired. i’m not a gold person. i like silver. where are the veins of silver?

Posted By rosylee On 01.14.2009 @ 5:11 am

everywhere is books and wall to wall shelves. this is my favourite room, my place to think and write my fanciful tales. the dog lies at my feet and brings me comfort but occasionally she barks and shatters the illusion of peace. this makes me swear.

Posted By rosylee On 01.12.2009 @ 8:56 pm

and now, I am surrounded by noise which distracts me from the task at hand. how is it possible to concentrate when all around is blare and grunt and cries from the man who is white, so white. His hair is a straight as mine was in my youth but my lips were never this bloody.

Posted By rosylee On 01.11.2009 @ 9:12 pm

the patchwork dog lets out a barrage of yips and yaps and the doves which nestle beneath the wrought iron table away from the outstretched arms of the burning sun are startled into flight. i do hope they are brave enough to return on the morrow for they are a welcome addition.

Posted By rosylee On 03.15.2009 @ 3:11 am

why do schmaltzy song lyrics swim into my head when i read the word believe i believe i can fly i believe if i work hard enough then my efforts will be noticed and then i will be rewarded, but fly? never. utter tosh and complete twaddle.

Posted By rosylee On 01.01.1970 @ 12:00 am

ravens i am drawn to but not the vulture picking at the leftovers hungry and macabre decay surrounds eerie silence utterly alone no voice to call out and nobody to hear the cries ugliness waits circles overhead for death.

Posted By rosylee On 03.06.2009 @ 1:03 am

a second chance perchance to reach from beneath untended and ragged undergrowth which threatened to throttle the naive and tender respond to sun’s first kisses beyond the winter of discontent.

Posted By rosylee On 02.25.2009 @ 4:07 am

mental as anything hey there you with the sad face an anthem at the blue light disco live it up friday night teens and cheap wine cigarettes and dunlop volleys scrawled with the name of this week’s boyfriend sitting awkwardly beside you near the dance floor.

Posted By rosylee On 02.21.2009 @ 5:01 am