All posts tagged poem


Published January 20, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

I can’t stop the tears rolling down my cheeks,
My pain still raw as days turn to weeks.
Time will heal so I am told,
Yet grief clings to me like festering mould.
You were taken too sudden away from us all,
I wish I had the power of time to stall,
I would tell you how much you meant to me,
A dad not in name but a dad to me.
I’d thank you for loving and looking after my mum,
For all my memories in our family album.
I’d tell you I loved you every day,
The words in your life I never did say.
My heart feels now as weak as yours
And into infinity my sadness pours.


Published January 20, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

My mind beats fast when I think of you,
My heart dreams vivid colours so true.
A mix of emotions run through my veins,
A tribe of wild horses released from their reins.
Fear of unknown adventures ahead,
Wondering where fate this time has led.
Excitement coursing through me so fast,
A little bit cautious due to my past.
You’ve touched my soul in this short time already,
I feel euphoric, blessed, giddy and heady.
I’ll let you inside to the core of me,
If you’ll cherish my heart I’ll give you the key.

Ode to You

Published January 20, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

You’re stuck in my brain and I can’t set you free,
You’re having a strange effect on me.
I want to swim with you in lemon jelly,
Cuddle nude while watching the telly.
Write your name on my book in permanent ink,
Fly high through clouds of candyfloss pink.
Words tangle like spaghetti when I try to talk,
My mouth feeling like crumbling chalk.
Your smile thrown my way starts my tummy to spin,
Head all giddy like I’ve been on gin.
If I held your hand once I might just explode,
Leaving my bits all over the road.
You have no idea what you do to me,
If you felt the same I’d scream ‘yippee’!

The Silent Place

Published January 15, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

Fresh flowers of pink and purple delight my eyes,
Soothing scent, aromatherapy for the soul.
Silent figures cluster closer saying goodbyes
Full of raw emotion but showing self-control.

Ghosts waltzing through fresh dew with an elegant grace,
Lovers, re-joined, time is no longer their keeper,
Free to celebrate joy in eternal embrace
After having fought then welcoming the reaper.

Weathered headstones submerging like abandoned ships
Tilting at harsh angles, pleading to be redeemed.
Black crows like mourners survey from up high on crypts
Judging stern over souls that were not what they seemed.

Fate and disease, war heroes’ forgotten glories.
All of humanity lies beneath, now at peace.
Study the headstones and imagine their stories,
Young and old taken too soon or blessed release.

Come to my silent place, my time stopping haven
Where thoughts unfurl from flowing stream to tranquil lake,
Here my worries and fears are laid bare and shaven
And stillness encircles me with comforting ache.

I’ll wait in my silent place serenely for you,
No need to rush as time is my gentle friend here,
I will wait until you are ready to come through
And hold you so closely to smother all your fear.


Published January 15, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

I am a bending twig refusing to snap,
I am tenacious waves pummelling rocks,
I am a temperate tide chaperoning you to shore.

I am a fleecy quilt to keep you warm,
I am a refreshing breeze to cool you,
I am a moonlit sky illuminating your way home.

I am you, you are stronger than you think.
Believe in me and have faith in yourself.
I am a comforting hand squeezing tight to remind you.

The Cafe

Published January 15, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

The hiss of the steamer spits like a snake
As the café and staff start to awake.
Grinding of beans and coffee aromas,
Shuffling shoppers emerge from their comas.
The scraping chairs of coming and going,
Satisfied customers ever flowing.

The chef in the kitchen in a flurry
Cooking up soup, a toastie and curry.
It’s all out action at pot-wash station,
Sauce smeared plates and dehydration.
A cry of ‘spoons’ as they vanish out front,
A quick foot assistant goes on a hunt.

Chatter of people enjoying their food
Drinking Earl Grey tea, freshly brewed.
Wonderful staff remaining so cheerful
Even when queues are so long and fearful.
When crowds have gone and the day is complete
Body parts ache like an Olympic athlete.

When I am old

Published January 15, 2015 by Naomi Rettig

When I am old I shall have candyfloss hair,
Dyed pink and permed looking fresh from the fair.
I shall ride in a chair as I won’t want to walk
And take out my teeth when I don’t want to talk.
I’ll pretend to be deaf when people are boring,
Fall asleep at parties with very loud snoring.
I shall wear bright red lipstick on my lips
And for breakfast eat three walnut whips.
I shall have cocktails on Saturday nights
Wearing pink and purple stripy tights.
I shall have six or eight cats for company
And enjoy a paddle in the winter sea.
When I am old I shall sleep ‘til noon
And embrace my body that looks like a prune.