My Mother My Hero

mumaSorrow weighs heavy on me some days
for, she is gone.

As I write Christmas cards, fill them
full of cheer, I realise how much I still miss
my mother,
how very dear to me she always was.

My story is a long, fluid one
(aren’t they all)
and, sometimes it’s hard
to talk about the things which happened
as I live through its battles
The ups and downs of this roller coaster life
but, somewhere in my 16th year I told her I was
gay, fearing what she’d say, she said:
“My darling daydreaming Bren, I always knew
there was something so special about you.
I don’t care what you are, you’re mine
and, I love you.”

She empowered me to become who
I was always meant to be and not have to hide
who I am in any dark closets or
harvest the fear of being constantly
caught living a lie.

At seventeen I made her cry.
Enlisting in the army, she said I must be barmy
but she knew I had that goal set firmly in my mind
and when she watched my passing out parade
she stood and waved as proud as any other mother
as the band played and we all marched past
in perfect symmetry.

(Deep sigh)

Happy were those days…now… distant memories
and as I write these words at Christmas time
I may shed a tear or two but will not weep for tho’
she is not in sight and hasn’t been for years
I sometimes think of her… then, feel the
slightest wisp of air move my hair and gain
comfort in the thought of knowing she’s
still there!


Me and mum and steve
My mum. Myself and one of my younger brothers

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*My mother was never perfect. She had her first baby aged 16 and made many, many big mistakes for which there were
awful consequences for all of us and, though I loved her dearly, I was angry with her. But, as I matured and began to look at the big picture, rather than purely from my own aspect, I began to realise the battles she must have fought and the ways in which she tried to keep all of us, as a huge family together, especially after my father died at 27 when I was 2 and a half.  She had many faults, but the one thing none of us ever doubted was, her love of us.
She was one of my best friends. Someone I was able to tell my deepest darkest, most scary secret with and risk losing her, my family, to condemnation and yet, she simply opened her arms, hugged me close and showed me it was all going to be okay for me to be me.
That is all any of us truly wants, to be loved and accepted for who we are not what we are. I wish all kids were so accepted for who they are and not what they are. Then there would be far less teenage suicides because of it.

So yes, to me, for all her faults, my mother is, was and will always be, one of my imperfect heroes.

Shared with Poetry Jam A good person
Three Word WednesdayCCCV1 Battle. Fluid. Harvest.

Memories in a Bag

As young child it fascinated me

It was an old blue leather handbag
even then
not worth a penny
yet contained priceless memories.

Pictures of my family
Some so old time had turned them
to sepia.

Little cards the nurses gave
telling date, time, weight and sex
upon the moment of birth.
Envelopes with locks of hair
a few poems on scraps of paper
from yours truly.

Theater programs, cinema tickets
school swimming certificates
bracelets, smelling salts
my mother’s most prized possession
a pair of Oh so delicate fine lace gloves
which were her mother’s.

A bag of magic to me as I’d ask if
I could get it out of the cupboard
and then she’d talk about this person
or that event and, her eyes would shine.

It was the only thing I ever asked for
of hers if and when she died
never thinking that it would
come to pass so suddenly
and now ever since 1989 the bag
and all of its memories
became mine to treasure too.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*Memories are priceless and worth so much more (to me) than material possessions.
You can only see some of the pics and cards and such there that I scattered to take the picture but, in the bag are dozens more.
The pic in the bag of the man holding the baby is my father and …me 🙂

Shared with Poetry Jam If I could have just a moment
Poets United Think Tank #114 Timeworn

Desperate Housewives

Living at home
eldest of a handful of kids
she’s already seen enough of
bouncing balls
robbing Peter to pay back Paul
adding, subtracting what she
can and can’t.

She’s sick of following behind
them all.
Closing cupboard doors and
left-open drawers
(no matter what she says)

Spring, summer, fall
months roll by
year in year out
nothing changes.

The sting of life with its
rind peeled
can sometimes
reveal more than we wish
you cannot change ignorant
people who chose to spurn
the gift of learning.

She contemplates the ripples
(could sit there for eternity)

Can she really marry anyone
and become just like her mother.
Yet another of those, oh so
desperate housewives.


© Daydreamertoo      *All rights reserved

For some reason the Wordle words led me in this direction this week.  Growing up in the messy endless noise and chaos, as second eldest of six kids, I know how she feels. LOL

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #64
Poets United Pantry #105


She is free
(at last)
I watched her spirit slowly die
as he crushed it day after day
not knowing what to do or say
she hid herself away in every
crevice and corner of her mind
that she could find.

She has never lived before
…he made sure of that

she is free
and, so lost
because all she’s ever done
is do whatever he told her
she must
and she has yet to learn what
it’s like to truly live.

Long have I grieved
long have I waited
for her to find the courage
to say

I want so much to hold her
and convince her that her
tears are expressions of fear
because she is free
and she has long forgotten
how it was to be that way.


© Daydreamertoo      *All rights reserved

My youngest sister finally said: “Enough is enough” (thank God) and with a lot of official (police/courts/social worker) support and family support too, she is going to soon be free from the bullying, much older brute she married when she was just 16, still a child herself.
She is in her mid 40’s now, 3 kids all grown too and, she has to re-learn that she is free and she can live life on her own terms, not on his.
She has a laptop now and I’ve chatted with her in voice today 🙂 despite my ‘funny’ accent … haha …teaching her how to use Facebook, Yahoo and such.
He wouldn’t ‘allow’ her to even use a computer.
In many ways I tried to help her so many times, to be there for her when she needed a place to run to, but it’s so hard to watch someone you love and have to be ‘civil’ around someone you despise and, have to truly bite your tongue in case you make it worse for them, instead of helping.
Sometimes, I miss them all so much. She said to me today: “I miss you so much Bren. I miss your hugs and your words of wisdom. Awww…
I just thank God she finally found her courage to say ‘No more.’

Here and There

Been living in Canada now since January 2002 and raising my late partner’s child but, miss England and my family there so much at times.
Joining Facebook has helped bring them closer because at least I can see all of their new pictures and read their updates each day but, sometimes it’s hard to be so far away from them all, especially when they are feeling a bit low.
Still, I’m grateful for what I have here and count myself blessed to be raising a child that I never would have had if I’d remained in England.
We live near here and, it’s truly a gentle, beautiful, magical island.