Poetry Blog by Rose Casserley

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Don Matthews on lingering wound (Thu, 9 Apr 2020 03:04 pm)

Don Matthews on Betterment is not illusive (Thu, 9 Apr 2020 02:58 pm)

LEON STOLGARD on Betterment is not illusive (Thu, 9 Apr 2020 12:01 pm)

LEON STOLGARD on lingering wound (Thu, 9 Apr 2020 11:59 am)

Fred Nicholson on lingering wound (Sat, 19 Oct 2019 05:30 am)

Don Matthews on Betterment is not illusive (Wed, 16 Oct 2019 10:41 pm)

Ruth O'Reilly on Betterment is not illusive (Wed, 16 Oct 2019 05:49 pm)

Don Matthews on ' real ' out of mind experience (Wed, 16 Oct 2019 02:56 pm)

Rose Casserley on ' real ' out of mind experience (Wed, 16 Oct 2019 02:24 pm)

Rose Casserley on lingering wound (Wed, 16 Oct 2019 01:29 pm)

Betterment is not illusive

Happiness capturing missilery fireworks

brightly shower the ethereal darkness: like ambitions

must not be grounded

but released enabling them to reach full heights

of possibility

even if their descending embers, matching failure

threaten to ignite despair.


Nevertheless, they will still have been a must-be dare performed

a setting alight and burning to ashes of timorous...

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lingering wound

hour by marching hour

time has all eventualities in its tread


a progression that brings down the walls of every life


Inexorably linked, we are inescapable subjects

our final destinations the same

an awaiting darkly rewarding price

of nothing for the cost of having lived


the thoughts of such payments

sink into my mind like a stone


impossible to put asi...

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all the reparations you will ever need

I'm constantly wondering my only love

if you had by now reconsidered

during the lost time of whole weeks

of how like an unextinguishable bright flame

my love is still waiting to be accepted again

and chase away your hearts old coldnesses.


O my adored!

let us both come out of our self-imposed wintering shadows 

so you may lie down on this half-empty summer warm bed of m...

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abandoned declination of a stately house and gardens

it's lakes left to green scummed limpidity

mournfully willowed over

an absence of punters and swans sadly prevailing

time lingering without promise.


Of visitors, these days are bereft

and there is no wildlife higher than the unkempt grasses

fountains thirst for water around which

few hopeful birds converge


weeds carrying on, overruling pathways

driveway gravel ...

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' real ' out of mind experience

yesterday for the first time in my life

I really, really sensed being in the atmosphere of another place

as well as being where I was at the time

but I can't describe how it felt

though I can say it had a wonderful, wonderful feeling to it 

yes, two places at the same time

the there and then and that strange beautiful 

deep elsewhere

the second one as real as the first


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child's death in black and white

the big black cars

the small white coffin

the black mourners

the white mourners

the black clothes

the white handkerchiefs 

the black stone church

the white interior

the black wooden benches

the white tiled floor

the black priest

the white altar boys

the black cassock

the white vestments

the black bible

the white pages

the black organ keys

the whit...

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subterraneously shuffling

Long subway unpeopled 

apart from the occasional drugged or drunken occupant

of a cardboard bedroom.


I walk under its dimmed sodium sky

from one night excluded end

to the other night recommencing end

stride invading this underpass  concrete world

my footsteps giving birth to echoes

that ricochet off cavernous graffiti sprayed walls.


Eventually rejoining the nig...

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made to go on

trying to survive outside 

your hearts chamber

has changed my name to sorrow


I walk


my life's loveless shadows

depending on hopes light

to nourish my way.


This lonely path

is taking me further than death

towards an imprisoning destination

for lost souls


emptied of all consolations

I am bedded on dying embers

of what ...

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and it didn't get any better

last night

saw the ' BEEBOPPERS ' at the Crown

kind of severely real music lacking noisemakers

ear borers, one-paced players

sex pistols rip-offs

trying at the finish 

to get away with smartarse excuses

when questioned about the state of their instruments


" fuck all funds disease man " they said


failing to hide their embarrassments 

behind Sid Vicious unimpr...

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of a snuffing out

for how long will

the golden mane of the lionesque sun

unwind earthwards

before he and humanity

have to face the slow coming truth

of him having to burn to death

in his own fire

taking his life-giving light and warmth

with him

leaving the world to deal with a frightening

and possibly short future

their backs up against the walls

of a darkened nuclear-wintered pl...

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Fox and THEY

THEY said ' it should be killed '

THEY said ' it is vermin '

those thoughtless, soulless statements sicken me.


Surely at some childhood days in woodland point 

in their now, adult cruel minded days

THEY must have been privileged enough to see

the sudden coming out from undergrowths

of that magnificent fiery coloured vulpine


surely their pulses would have been quic...

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prima in waiting

up and coming ballerina of the dancing school

beauty, fresh, hair gloss black, decades away from grey

demeaning age inflicts no rule

is yet an outcast her youthfulness keeps at bay

she joins the queue of hopefuls, this, fledgeling star 

places her dreams on wings praying they will take flight

and find fame and fortunes reservoir

where one day maybe her name on theatre fronts w...

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year old

chair seat high and beloved


starting to be yourself

in the unmapped territory of your own home

little explorer


each day making new discoveries

that will in time explain themselves better


how your intentions of conquering the need to understand

will blossom

and how fortunate for you

that your early days will not disclose

the worst of fears to you


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beneath a heavy snow delivering sky

recalling an overwhelming counterpaned severity that year

a lock-in and lock-down instigator

it's knee deep, unadulterated milky blanket restrictions

kept on and on and on adding more and yet more of itself

to the elderlies problem pile

kept on and on adding more and yet more of itself

to the infant's excitement pile


being of neither age

while concerned for the old an...

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most utopian of independencies


freedom in the true sense of the word

is never truly free

if you want the real thing

then you may have to pay the highest prices you have ever paid


it is a wild child without a care in the world of its own

a stitched to the skin all in one suit of original liberty

a key to the universe of everyone's ultimate desire

an endless ride on the wind


eel slippery, un...

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of a dad who never was

not as a father but 

had performed let me say and rightly so

as a sadistic pretender to that title


danced the child all the ways through false promises

to where the evil side of his nature

would be waiting for her to grow and assume her prisoner status


how she would learn to dread his waking,

his rising like an avenging fallen angel

angry to be sober

while reli...

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birth of memory's death

" not sure " he said.


It was his birthday

and I,

hoping he would not have forgotten

had put him to the test

another one he had failed.


He is beginning to see nothing

except, shadows

that hide his;





and ( my ) christening day past


those that Mum has in photograph albums


of their two of a ki...

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figure of fun

you left me in a pool of tears feeling like Pagliacci

you left me crucified by your betrayal feeling like Jesus

while your sinfulness is free to go on wherever you are

your handsomeness flag flying high

for other women to pay their sexual allegiances to


I'm just another lamb for the love slaughter

brooding on thoughts of your arms around another

traitorously dishonouring ...

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an ideal deal

like all that lives

their beginnings are given over to ending.


I cannot recall a single instance

when death was willing

to put his soul subtracting process on hold

and allow all that live's

to hang on to their existences a little bit longer


or is it that he, being busy as he always is

consider's lengthening those existences

too much of an interruption

in his...

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is this the hope-ward road?

through wastelands

of ruined love

sorrow my only luggage

deceivers have stolen

every one of my hearts treasures

now they are dancing partners

with the inflictions of memory


am I ever to leave

their traitorous damaging's

far behind

in my rear-view mirror

or go on forever trying to cry away

the distances I am travelling

on this highway of blue shadows?


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with hAvOc as a memory

( not personal )

From behind the parental bedroom door

argumentative hullaballo's

loud, petty, spat out accusations instigating pathetic replies

words no longer romantically sweetened worn thin, curse broken

a soulless sourness unable to be swallowed by either screaming mouth

creating enough collateral to last the children living in each of the epicentres a lifetime,


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inexplicable entities

entry picture

untouchable invasions of surreality

mysteriously flowing fully-fledged

flooding the wake concerned

now vacated chambers

of my slumbering mind

from unknown sources

born in enigmatic

undetectable elsewheres


who can say or retrace

the reasons, why's, wherefores

that gave them birth, permissions

to stage their weird intangible

muddled performances

in the clo...

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unforgettable underdogs aka real human beings ( a just HAS TO BE for all on WOL )

mule regarded enslaved human victims

wrists, necks, scraped red

from lifetimes iron cuffed and collared

tear cryers, sweat pourers

black boys, black boys to men

black girls, black girls to women

daily whipped captives

never an end to pain for them and theirs

coming from a very long bloodline of others

mistreated in the same beast of burden way

enforced cane cutters


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weak days

Mournday-grieving over the heavy loss of your love

Chooseday-am I going to be able to offload my love for you and lighten the search for another?

Whens?day-as soon as my heart finds the strength

Whursday-hoping I will be strong enough to carry on     

Freeday-finally! I have succeeded in lifting the burden of your departure off my shoulders

Sadderday-now left with crushed memories


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love, I have given up playing your hastily becoming uncertain game

luckless player, my participation I will hold back

your worth to me has lost all acclaim

red rose you were now decaying petals fading, black


begone all promises made with empty words

speak no more to my hungry desires

those false flamed temptations now unheard

though made cold my heart turns away from such...

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a somewhere else of me

here is a planet that could be my mind

valleys bottomless, mountains that defy measurement

there is a wrong sky overhead

presently brimmed with one of its multitudinous disagreeable moods

the ground belonging to my feet alters shape

as if I had committed a crime against it

sentencing me to stumble after stumble


from the home of my sad internal sight

I can see how shado...

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evaluating you

without you if only for one day

I would have to struggle-glut on patience

tasting of your sweetnesses.

But should that minimal period extend into foreverness

I would become the sickened animal diseased by loneliness

beyond any other hearts help

worthy only of a quick death.

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boarding school regrets

so there you are, as me, aged ten

kneeling with other debonair's to be

for the beneficial status of Dear Mummy and Dear Daddy's sake

( and a smaller religiously unsure portion for God's sake )


In those distant playtimes, you often saw

what the ignorant teachers rumoured to be

' officially uneducated Gypsy children '

clinging to the outside of the wrought iron railed schoo...

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to a great inspirer







didn't know there was a key to fit my mostly closed mind

but you

ultimate locksmith have found it

and opened the floodgates.

Now, away I sail on a new boat, on a new and endless ocean

every brain drain unblocked

every brake put in the off position forever

every shit coloured thought repainted in the rarest of shades

and, after being amazingl...

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stitches in time

I can see them now

Mothers cutting-out scissors

sacred item

heavy in her delicate fingers

snipping at the edges of paper patterns

so flimsy and soft as the tissues she used

to wipe my little girl nose in winter time.


Now, more than half a life away

in kept memories of her 

opening and closing the metal jaws

steady as ever

along chalk lines of home-made designs


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look here dude!

if I loved the Messiah

any less than I do

might very well disappear

the miracle of me and you! 

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poor ( and lucky ) me

over-intoxicated with a variety of, remembrances

photo fashioned slide showing in my mind

many I love, but

knock! knock! knock! 

bitter ones, a darkness about them

at a door, I never used to open.

Has that darkness dissolved yet?

I look more closely and, yes it has!


their eyes no longer mock out of mine

or cause my, tormenting regretfulness ...

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age disbeliever

dreams the nights away in the long-gone lands of youth.

Rises convinced she is still there

that time for her has been put on hold.


Mornings are for pampering

futile attempts to remove the slightest sign

that could damage her reflection

ruin attractions of young  admirers


who she is convinced still see in her

the beauty that once was

and they will go on chasing


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last in line

atlas spread

I track your worldly route

across countries better weathered 

none wintered like here at present

a season you always considered to be

the soul damaging time of year

with its gloomy marriages to ice, snow and arctic winds

that for you would not divorce those

kind of mind injuring partners soon enough

so different from the tropical countries

you are drivin...

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Aesop's inspirations

spin me a tale

let it include monsters and one-eyed giants

that I can familiarise myself with

maybe a Pegasus horse

who could take me on heavenly winged flights

free of earth's captivity

but let it be happy ever after

after the end

continuing while I lie

fairy taled in your arms

my breathings temporarily withheld

at each of your astonishments

every word a caress...

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one poor cow one poor cow eater


motorway gridlocked

behind a cattle transporter.


Through a snout sized vent,

you sniff at the air of freedom 

head occasionally turning side on

so that one eye at a time can stare at guilty me


who knows as I can imagine you might do

in telling me with what I feel is such an accusatory 

death frightened stare

how I mouth-wateringly help to shorten you...

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I really do love you





five words

empty until real meaning fills them

meanings that would do more for my emptiness

than any deed ever could


five words I had wanted to hear

for so long

but never did until


I had climbed to the top

of a heart crossed mountain of truth

called you.

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mark up


love costs

has to be purchased using

a high percentage of the hearts ups and downs credit card


the ultimate in comfort buying


Love is a begging child

often subjected to too many snubs


an experiment

a trial by times jury

an understated state


but always strong enough to endure

keeps its engine ticking over

to even face the challenges of death...

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coming absences of sun and you



impatient autumn is stopping summer in its tracks

registering its decaying purpose

before any starting pistol had been fired


before the season's alarm clock

had sounded time to rise and waste

randomly instruct the leaf falling processes

overruling any chance for august to finish goodbye's


Only a dead week

since tanking harvesters toppled fiel...

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please! please! don't snap! ( an anti-dementia appeal )

a more than regular request between thoughts

a plea to the link

keeping me connected to who I really am

and not becoming her who drifts in and out of memories

stands, staring into the distances of nothing

rambler down lanes to nowhere

lost ship on an endless empty ocean

moth who can no longer find the flame

intermittently inconveniently unknowingly inconveniencing herself


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thinking in frames

wanting to find you everywhere, especially

in the galleries of my hopes

a personal Tate for private viewings

an endless exposition I want to walk in

with loving opinions on my tongue

and smiles on my face that haven't been painted there.


Glorified is how I want to see you

in each display, in each stance, in each clothed or unclothed version


but above all


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tender deluge

in this rain time

I have written for you

a love letter

each line

warm as those November flames

it's fifth-day children

remember, remember


flowered, gem-stoned,

doing their utmost

to gently, slowly

dance with your soul


along, the ways

of a heaven

word after, word

builds, beautifies.


Heart-written lines

for the saint in you to bless


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oiled and watered immortalizations

the arrangement was for her and her and her

to be the artistic inspirational

flesh suppliers

their beautiful fully naked forms

portrayed so life-like that,

even the most damning of critics

would have almost expected them

to step out of the painting.

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when meandering ended



once upon some years ago

so past stored calendrical events tell me

we were not you and I.

I call it missed out time,

a time when the chance of finding heaven

didn't exist


there was nothing of it

that spoke of potentiality

mist misshaped 


like a dream

about the realms of emptiness

needing to be disremembered


except when a chink of possibi...

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no more the demanding sound of his snapping fingers

am I to costume myself with facades just for him?

falsifying, prance doll-like on his stage as the person I am not

uphold his belief in sordidness.


These collective pretentious identities,

irregularities, and bad habits, not mine

he abusively pours into the vessel of my true title

tries to endow me with darker attitudes and voices

attempts to warp the dimensions of my nat...

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Rise of the adolescents

they've grown

I cannot defend my soft position as easily

and as softly as I used to do

no matter how many times I raise my hands

in peaceful surrender

armistice eludes


and it drains the Mother in me

to watch them change.

Verbally they shoot indiscriminately, on

behalf of their immature demands.


Where is the shield of love I depended on

to withstand their ...

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girls in the know

it had been raining all, day,

but that didn't stop her from laughing

because she is one of the girls

that live in each other's lives

where sadness can never be allowed to compete

they simply turn away from it saying,


this is us who have shed our last tears

who will never again lose another moment of happiness

even in our dreams.


They walk through their days as ...

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please don't laugh at this insanely inspired poem called -Seeing three pieces of plastic becoming involved in a love triangle with each other

Parked up in a windy empty street, munching.

A black and obviously empty dog shit bag tumbled slowly by.

For whatever brain dead reason I watched its wafting progress in the wing mirror.

Soon it was joined by a little white piece of plastic

and, they seemed quite happy to be rolling along together for a while

but that was until they were joined by another piece of white plastic


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how many times will I be forced into swallowing

life's broken promises that I expected to have been fulfilled by now

ones that I had hoped would have gone down much smoother and in one piece

comfortably shielding my eyes and ears

preventing them from seeing or hearing

the increased speeding up of each days self dismantling

pushing me through the last chance saloon doors faster an...

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passing into obscurity of an iron horse rider

thinking back 'bout a guy I loved

went by the name of Mad Mike

long-haired petrol head

one time straddler of a Harley


so many times we went the distance

and I don't mean in miles!

usual spliff after the usual you know what

smiling at each other's smiles.


How we used to blur to the coast

at death challenging speeds

then, in the sand dunes

both giving as 'v...

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