ALTHOUGH LIVING BY 'THE SYSTEM, WITHIN THE SYSTEM'... SHE DOES NOT COMPLY BECAUSE OF PERSONAL PAIN AND EXPERIENCE.

WRITING SINCE THE AGE OF 5.. HAS HELPED TO 'FEND-OFF' SOME OF THE DEMONS.

RE-CREATING DAILY LOST, DESTROYED WORK IS HER CURRENT MISSION.

MULTI TALENTED SHE ALSO WRITES SHORT STORIES, PLAYS.. AND AMBITIOUS FILM-SCRIPTS.

LOVE AND PEACE IS THE KEY, POWER MAKES REALITY, TRUST IS A MUST...

ALL ENQUIRIES TO JOHN HIRST.

always.....

too many women
crying
Uncontrollably
circumstances beyond
their control
years ago
as they were forced
by parents hospital doctors
priests
telling them
they had no option
but adoption
no one ever
explaining to them
the long suffering
torture
they would have to endure
for the rest
of their lives
always
praying for
forgiveness
always
wondering especially
at night
what had become
of their babies

women....

women
were supposed
to look pretty
cook dinner
sex on a plate
whatever their husbands wanted
something inside
told me
that wasn’t right
i wanted more
out of life
then i met you
it suddenly all changed
i wanted your babies
i wanted to cook
your favourite
dinner
stay in all night
just get cosy
never worried
that you
might batter me
get drunk
rape me
even now
after all these years
i’m so glad
you’re that
one man
in a million

tell him....

he asked me
to
tell him
where did my life
 all start to go wrong
then i saw him
look at his watch
twenty years
of hell and horror
forced out of my locked
secret mind
screams inside
stifle me
i dare not start
i really can’t
say a word
he hands me a tissue
as he
helps me to the door
telling me
he knows it’s not easy
to build up a rapport
same time next week
don’t forget 
to make my next appointment
before i leave

without....

lunch hour again
the mothers
sit talking
then out come
the photos
smiling babies
children everywhere
happiness
exploding all around
me i have to
get out
without screaming
where are my
babies
i have to walk calmly
down the stairs
without
ripping my hair
out or smashing my head
against the wall
in desperation
as to where
are my babies now
will they—do they
miss me—do they
remember me

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