H/work for w/e 26.10.20.....TWO WORDS

[Maureen K Clifford]

TWO WORDS - Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBarkPoet

Two words changed my life's story, two words that I regret
sometimes, but oh not really, the story's not over yet.
Two words to end a lifestyle, two words spoken in haste,
two words that ended disrespect and twenty one year's waste.

To the chase I'll cut but quickly, none need be bored with the tale
of a woman past her prime who fell for a bloke fit and hale
and with many years of friendship and acceptance, trust and love
decided to move to country, and give up her home and job.
Though it seems she wore rose glasses - didn't know it at the time
Thinking back it was half hearted, all his way and never mine.
But the shields she built around her, hid from her the actual score
till the game was nearly over and there wasn't room for more.

Far away from home and family, getting older every day
time was running out for this girl if she still had to earn pay.
A short sojourn to the city to assist an ailing Mum
saw her visit her old workplace - Did they have a job for one?
Yes they did and not a problem, she had runs up on the board,
all there knew of her work ethic, how she's never underscored.
Quietly reassured she returned to the land she'd grown to love
asked the question - got the answer - the wrong one, push became shove.

Seems her efforts had been wasted, she fell far short of his mark.
Super ploughed into the property had vanished in the dark.
Health was compromised and ruined, and all trust now shattered too
when the words 'you'd best be leaving' broke her heart quite through and through.
He claimed she had no commitment- not to him nor to the land
which was bullshite for she loved them - but to stay would see her damned
He said "if a job's a waiting you'd be stupid to refuse"
and her heart said she'd be stupid to stay and cop more abuse.

So she turned and without pausing said 'Wrong answer' to her mate
climbed into her Ute and headed straight back to the property gate,
swung a left out on the dirt road and with gravel spitting tires
headed out towards the bitumen, the city lights and spires.
She drove an hour and waited at the end of the dirt road,
fairly confident he'd follow, but this little episode
showed her just how undervalued she had been for all these years
whilst she herself was thinking they were building new frontiers.

Her eyes were red from crying but no truck came into view
and there were no dust clouds rising - so she bid a sad adieu
to the home she loved so dearly and she never has returned,
why go back to nought but squandered time where toil and love were spurned.
Twenty one years of life wasted, nothing gained save memories.
and the impetus of writing them down in her poetry.
Lost the dog that she loved dearly, from fate just one more cruel blow
and the knowledge that the animals she loved would surely go.

He moved on, and he got married - sold the animals and the farm,
those things that he claimed she had little commitment to. His charm
over the years has diminished, she now knows how foolishly
she followed her dream without seeing that she'd pay heavily.
But move on - it took a long time, and by writing this it seems
she has shed herself of devils and can now follow her dreams
but her dreams now are for quiet, peaceful solitude - not life
filled with angst, dissension worry, hate or perpetual strife.

And to grasp that dream again she finds that she must turn away
from the people who are neighbors' with an agenda to play
of vindictiveness and petty quarrels - how could she have known
that such people selfishly just think of themselves - them alone.
A community of retirees should be a calming space
not a place of petty differences, back stabbing, angry faced
argumentative folks with it seems an endless axe to grind .....
not at all what she is seeking. Her mantra is 'just be kind.'

[Catherine Lee]

Ah Maureen, this is so deeply personal and moving....The lessons we learn from heartbreak, betrayal, loss, and the callous attitudes of others are countless, and peace can be a long time coming. You have captured all these feelings so well in this heartfelt poem, and many of us can empathise with your poignant words.

[Terry]

Must have taken a lot of courage to write that Maureen.
It also makes me realize how lucky I've been to have a wonderful wife,
who has always been there for me.

Great story

Terry

[Shelley Hansen]

I agree with Catherine and Terry, Maureen - this poem is one of courage.

Courage to walk away from an unsustainable nightmare, courage to make a new life, courage to resist the pull of negativity - and courage to write it all down!

Very moving.

[Gary Harding]

Hi Maureen (my apologies, because I usually don't post on this Writing Workshop forum).

Your poem/story has already been commented on very capably indeed by Terry, Shelley and Catherine who together sum it up really well... perhaps drawing from their own shared-here, personal, life experiences. So there is nothing I could usefully add.

However I will attempt to address the final part.... your problem with village neighbours.

OK....
Get some wine casks, 5 litre /$14. BWS

Save up (or covertly scrounge from recycles) empty wine bottles with metal screw-caps. Sterilise with boiling water using funnel, then fill from casks. Be sure that red wine goes to red-wine labelled bottles! That is only $2/bottle.
Then off to Aldi for cheap, good cheese.

Then leaflet, and put a sign up at village....

"FREE Wine and Cheese at Mausie's Happy Time, Friday 5.00pm onwards. FREE. FREE"

(I do that all the time with wine and believe me, nobody notices.. not even any strange looks. Crushed ice in sink. After the first glass.. labels aren't even read. "Would you like red or white...?" Basic. Just be sure YOU are the bartender or it won't be just the gorgonzola that your guests start to smell).

Then stand back!! You will suddenly have so many Friends and Good Neighbours you won't know what to do!!

They will transform - and their Better Side will emerge. Wander through your village and everyone will want to know you.

It works out at about $2.60 per person. (You can also make sparkling wine from cask wine, but that is hard work).

Yes, sadly, people can be bought.. we all can be (at the right price) I suppose... but in the end, who cares!!

You would have nobly changed them as people.... incentivised them to be "nice".. and most importantly a Real Life Problem (that has the potential to develop into other far more serious things) is solved for Yourself expediently. Reaching out.
I wish you every success with your less-than-flash neighbours. As you say at the end "just be kind" (inexpensively) and take the "friendship initiative".

With hopefully much happier days then ahead for you. Keep us posted!

[Gary Harding]

I might take the chance to reflect... and importantly add more to what I have said..

This poem/story is quite unsettling and very disturbing for me... and whether I am by myself in that or not, I don't know..

The last verse, taken just as a stand alone statement that all surrounding people are malevolent and Machiavellian would be enough for me to be very, very concerned for anyone.

Given the compounding and intensely emotional content of the long preamble to that last verse.. it was more than enough to then severely raise red flags.. for me. A worry that won't go away.

It is in my nature to analyse things; to see more than what might otherwise pass casual observance.

My first solution, and I DO look for a solution, is one that involved actively reaching out. It was couched with some humour or light-heartedness to avoid it looking like a lecture. It does contains a warning message in bold letters.

Reaching out.. and not isolating. But that may or may not be practical?

It is just possible that this intensely personal story may have a "raison d'etre". In which case, because of the red flags it so obviously throws up (at least to me), some beneficial, professional assistance might be useful if not even effectively life-saving. Might.

I suggest that such disturbing story-writes require contemplation at length.

A perceptive reader (as poets should be?) must be either genuinely very concerned, or very unconcerned ... and I know where I stand. I hope I am "getting there". Others may dismiss my concerns.. fair enough... It is kind of important I think.

[Neville Briggs]

I felt very sad reading this verse Maureen. The worst part is the last bit about the neighbours, that is tragic. At least old history has passed but the present remains and has to be endured. In his parable/novel The Great Divorce , C.S. Lewis depicted life as like a bus trip packed with all different sorts of people on their way to eternity. On the bus is a woman who is a mean carping person who shrinks and fades until eventually she is no longer a recognizable person, just a voice. It's sad that your neighbours don't want to be persons, just voices. You don't need to follow that way, I'm sure you know. Claim the freedom to be different.

[Shelley Hansen]

Couldn't agree more, Neville!

Sadly, Maureen's experience is by no means unique, though one wonders why, by the time they reach retirement years, people haven't learned enough to simply live with tolerance for their neighbours, and focus on generating a bit of positive encouragement to be shared around.

Recently a friend living in a retirement village told me she and her husband had stopped going to the Friday afternoon happy hour because it had degenerated into a competition about who brought along the best nibblies, accompanied by the ostracizing of those whose offerings were deemed to be not flash enough!

[Maureen K Clifford]

Thank you all for your loving and caring comments and your concern.
Garry the wine and cheese bit I have been doing since I moved in here - my wine cellar (pantry and wine rack) is full to overflowing. I called it Drinks on the Driveway and sent this little blurb out ..... We're having Drinks on the Driveway - would you like to come along?
Simply bring your tipple of choice + chair, and join our throng.
We're meeting to share friendship and a good giggle or two
and you are very welcome to come over. Hope you do.
It's strictly ladies only, but we've nothing to hide
any bloke is welcome who adopts his feminine side.
They can wear a fascinator or a red bow in their hair,
high heeled shoes and a tutu, or even evening wear.
If they embrace their femininity well who are we to say
that they cannot also share drinks upon a mate's driveway.
It's only for an hour or so and just a bit of fun,
so hope to see you there. PS - Please wave to everyone.

Our next Drinks in the Driveway will be held at Villa ......
on ............................................................
commencing at 2.30 pm

This is ............................ place

It was met with a modicum of success - we managed 4 or 5 with anywhere from 5 to 15 ladies attending and then Covid hit us. I do plan to get it up and going again.

I was having a bit of a vent with my poem, obviously feeling at the time of writing a tad shattered and disenchanted with things but I keep reminding myself and others on our Committee that is is only a small handful of residents here who are so unpleasant, the majority of folks are lovely people and we don't have to associate with the ones causing the issues, nor should we allow them to bring us down to their level. So bearing that in mind I have made it my goal to put up a cheerful and hopefully inspiring ' Good Morning' post on the FB page I run for the Village. I'll kill off the buggers with kindness or bore them to death with poetry