Excitement fills your whole

Utopian in soul.

Paradise in essence,

Happiness in presence.

Outlook cheery and bright,

Rapturous in delight.

Intoxicates a mind,

A heaven of a kind.

©Jacqui Slade


Granny in Weymouth 

with Grandad and his 

false teeth 

two cats

Tigger and Lucky.

Home made soup.

A piano in the front room

of a little B&B

a terraced house 

in a side street

not far from the sea,

and a shop selling 

blown glass, buckets,

spades, rock and I remember 

buying a Whimsie .

They were the in thing

at the time for a little girl 

growing up in the seventies.

Such good memories 

and it’s with my whole heart

I attest earnestly 

that those days were the best,

Even though they were few 

as I lived so far away from you.

I looked up to you

and always knew you loved me.

Always were so patiently adoring

and made time for me

and I’d get so excited to see you.

You taught me how to knit,

brushed my hair so softly.

Never was I a little bitch

or told to shut my bloody 

whinging up with a brush pulled

through frizzy tangles 

hurting me cursing me,

like your daughter did.

Where my mother failed

you were always there,

loving me without a care 

and the boxes of books

that you would give me 

from your own childhood,

I treasured and read them

over and over and over.

Taken from me when I moved out

when I was twenty three,

by my brothers for safe keeping

because they’re probably worth money

to line their pockets with

because they’re  greedy

and always did treat me

like I had some learning


Bullying me and making me

feel stupid like your daughter 

used to.

I wish I still had those books

with your name inside

and to touch the aged pages.

Enjoy them again as we both once did.

I’ve often thought about them

and how much they meant to me

escaping mother in the long forgotten stories and

how I dreamt of having my own


Remember how you used to

write to me religiously 

every week and sending me

all your postage stamps 

for my collection.

You’d moved back to Scotland then.

I was such a loner and a geek,

awkward and clumsy

but you made my life happy.

Such a long time ago 

and always our bond was strong

and even when you died 

I knew 

and I still believe to this day that you

came to visit me when you went.

Thirteen years old and in my bed 

when the phone rang.

No sign no clue, no illness 

but I knew, and I heard my mother crying and her footsteps on the stairs

and it is one and only time

I can recall her putting her arms

around me.

In her grief.

You came to visit me again

years later in a dream

you were ironing

and I told my mother

and she said that it was mad

because you used to really love

doing it and I didn’t know it then

but I now believe you came to me

with a warning as

a few days later she 

my mother your daughter 

was told she had cancer.



Always to be treasured.

I think about you both sometimes 

and hope that you will

visit me again

in my dreams

and guide me.

I know that you’re 

always beside me.



I was your wee silly thing.


©Jacqui Slade

My blog

I think I am going to start writing more about different things other than publishing my poetry here.

As a mother of seven in my mid fourties – age range 22 – 3, I feel maybe with my wealth in knowledge that I could offer a bit more of myself other than poems.

I could offer parenting tips, advice on conquering depression, domestic abuse knowledge and also as I have three boys who have autism a couple of tips there. But I always think there are a lot of autism blogs about that do a lot of good awareness and do a better job than I could. I don’t want my whole life to be about autism, it’s why I am creative in my spare time. I could offer relationship advice, cooking on a budget, how to survive when you’re totally skint, kids crafts, activities, books and maybe the odd music review as I always get some unsigned musicians following me on Twitter.


Stop submit and drop 

Useless defences

Retaliation and

Reason and love

Endlessly enjoy living

Negotiate your judgement 

Don’t give into fear

Engage in talking

Remember to be positive.

©Jacqui Slade

Wreck This Journal – This page is a sign.

This page is a sign what do you want it to say?

Gemini my star sign and then on the opposite page I created the Gemini twins.

All done in mixed media – watercolour pencils, gel pens, glitter glue, stickers, gems, holographic card, card, fabric, plastic and sequins.


Spring arrives in bounces of


polishing nature with its sheen.

Expelling death in life it breathes,

in carpeting its verdant weaves.


It’s promise in budding flowers,

waters dreams in April showers.

Washing away all Winters doubt,

in bursts and blooms seeds of hope



Its touch a light and gentle breeze,

it’s joy in the blossoming trees.

Birthing colour and vivid hues,

and bringing skies of lighter blues.


In chirpy glee the song of Spring,

enchanting life in everything.

Its arrival in new leaves bared,

with Summer its beauty is shared.


©Jacqui Slade






between us.




against us.

Maybe a year or two will go by

so quickly,

like the vehicle wheels 

when you leave.

In a minute out of sight.

Got a lump in my throat,

and a knot in my stomach.

Tears are welling

but I can’t let them go.

Not yet.

Heart’s feeling heavy,

I wrap my arms around you

so tight, 

so tight.

Every single second spent

held on to,

just watching you

wanting to just pinch you

just to check you’re really here.

So long and I cherish the

memory of laughing with you

over some stupid show on

the telly – 42 stone mother

although it really wasn’t funny

a tragedy really

and I said to you in promise

I’d never be or could be

a burden on you

I love you see.

And how you got into my bed

when my husband got up early, 

his turn to see to your little brothers,

and we dozed there together

chatting and hunting frantically 

for your nose ring.

I still got the photo on my phone

the one you sent me

as the coach was pulling away

from me

blowing me a kiss.

Such a precious memory,

last time I saw you

and sometimes we both think

it’s just easier not to

see each other.

Tears us up inside,

soul wrenching,

we both cry,

but not in front of each other

and then depressed 

for days after.

Hankering after 

the hugs and the laughter.

I hate goodbyes.

©Jacqui Slade