The Red Rose – story of Ora

The Red Rose

When spring blossoms in the atmosphere, new life nurtures.

Various colours, shapes and sizes,

All special in their own way.

The most beautiful rose in town,

The crimson colour of red it holds.

The sweet smell captured in the finest mixes of scents,

Each coil reveals a story.

The red rose

As perfect as perfection could be,

Till the day a petal sheds,

Then more…

The beauty is no longer admired with such ore’

Life can sometimes feel like that : the red rose with its lost beauty.

The red rose

Having shed the few petals makes the difference.

People no longer want the red rose in their perfectly manicured gardens.

Have you ever admired the red rose ?

I have

I am the red rose”

Yet I believe and know;

I still hold the beauty within my cuts and creases,

As pretty as I once blossomed, opened each coil, flourishing making the earth pretty.

The red rose still captures the sweetness of nature



Adrift I am away from thoughts that conquer my vision,

Adrift I want to remain for ever from those locked away moments,

I do not want to feel fear,

I do not want to feel pain,

Forever afloat on cloud 9, shall I remain.

Adrift I am from those noises that break my peace I usually meditate to.

Adrift I am from the rest of the world full of glam.

I feel love,

I feel passion,

I feel warmth

Adrift I am …

The Reach… In hope of

The reach… In hope of

My fingers tremble, as my hand reaches out,

I keep that surreal look to my mind,

In some hope of touching the untouched.

The season of spring brings some glory to my hope.

Life had turned anti clockwise.

My fingers tremble,

My soul keeps trying,

As the physical body is on its last drive,

I feel the attempt will fail me yet once again.

The winter cold makes me shiver,

And the storms try and fight me.

Each look towards pure innocence seems so unreal.

Oh why do my fingers tremble.

As nature strips the tress and hope of life in Autumn, I await with my heart clenched in my throat.

My fingers tremble.

Minute after minute,

Hour after hour,

Day after day,

Week after week,

Month after month,

Season after season,

Year after year,

I do not give up

In hope of my journey to end,

Achieving success.

In summer the sun burns each layer of me,

I still reach in hope…

My fingers tremble.

There is a cycle I am locked up in and all my withered body knows is that I’m reaching out in hope.

My fingers tremble.


This picture is painted by Mayhem”

Thank you for sharing it with me

And the writing is based on the painting

Happy Birthday Son


My little baby boy,

Looking back over a decade ago,

How tiny were you little stubby fingers,

Big bright red cheeks,

The cutest smile, alongside bilateral dimples.

You were always one of a kind.

Little tantrums to stay awake at nights with mummy or nana,

They were as bad as they ever got (we still have them).

Sitting in the kitchen with all the tools, you were ready to cook most times.

Your first full time days at childcare around the age of 6 months,

How my heart ripped leaving you there at the start (that was the best time of your life),

I was blessed that they looked after you my love.

Early onset to an early achiever you were,

I was so proud of you.

I walked you to kinder the first day hand in hand

And that’s where you learnt a new world,

You adjusted well.

I always said never fear the new (even though I probably silently did).

Your first favourite words, Kiki, kaka (dummy & water)

Kike’ was bike and chuck’ was bread. Oh dear and pruck’ was truck

I still remember all your milestones,

I must say I’m so proud because your milestones were mine as well.

In all these years I have realised I’m never alone

Full of happiness my life is when I think of you.

You wiped my tears and I wiped yours.

Your little hands trying to tuck me into bed after a long night shift.

Thank you beta (son), thank you for everything.

When you smile, it brightens my spirits & I learn to love all over again.

Happy birthday to you and birthing day to me.

11 years on your still my baby.

The Dark Knight’

The Dark Knight’


Is the story of a Princess who once made a mistake; the one that cost her ,her Smile

The Dark Knight

Shining armour,

Sword sharper than the mighty Pen,

Bright, almost as the strongest rays of the sun reflecting off silver,

The Dark Knight stole my Smile.

Colours, once so warm, lit up my path,

yellow, red and blue’,

The Battle fields were lit up,

Roaring with grief, once mentioned in the Mahabharata,

As old as Sanskrit (Language or ancient India),

Thats how vague the memory is to me now.

The Dark Knight Stole my Smile.

Vultures now guard my kingdom,

Where I now reside, high up above,

So high, almost away from humanity;

Rustling old leaves, now far off photosynthesis are the only sound that replaces the sound of my hearts beat,

Creeky doors, that were once galvanised, replace the dream catchers bells,

And the Hooting Owls, the sound of the golden Harp.

The Dark Knight stole my Smile.

The shackles are really heavy, giving away the smell of rusting iron.

They almost feel like my glass Bangles I once wore.

No features on my face are the same (not that I can see),

No features on my face Feel’ the same,

They once contained my personality.

I have no mirror, the only close reality to one are the tear drops I shed,

The Dark Knight stole my smile.


Once upon a time… MAYA

Once upon a time,

Far away in the serenity of the universe,

Tucked away in a little miracle word, in her little castle full of happiness and glory,

was a little girl,

her name; MAYA.

Maya: The power by which the universe becomes manifest; an illusion


Once upon a time,

So innocent of the world and its powers,

Little maya, would spend hours in the the most glorious forest reins,

Flowers, Trees, Earth all succumbed to her beauty and innocence.


Once upon a time,

when Maya giggled, the Earths creatures all danced along in glory,

when she opened her eyes the breeze would guide her way,

The rain would keep her purity

The clouds would protect her Aoura,


Once upon a time,

Maya too was warned of the forbidden wild ivory,

the depth of the lake,

And the big bad wolf….



Where is Maya? What is Maya?

Maya is scared of her voice,

her eyes try escape the glare of daylight,

The breeze feels like a whirlwind, so strong, it almost hurts.

The rain washes her wounds away, yet not entirely

And the clouds follow her like a dark nightmare.


Maya has seen the big bad wolf,

possibly touched a poisonous Ivory,

or simply lost her way back, or is it just an illusion Maya cannot escape

For year she has not been back,

The universe misses her, the wild animals mourn, the trees sway side to side in a never ending the search of pure Innocence.

 Innocence; Maya




I am a mirror to my body’

I am a mirror to my Mind’

I am a mirror to my deranged thoughts’

I am a mirror to my locked up soul’

“Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most miserable of us all?”

Mirrors were once an object that ancient Egyptians, Romans and Greeks were very fond of.

For instant a broken mirror till this day is said to bring 7 years of bad luck.

They say that the mirror symbolically Inceases what it reflects’ (Feng shui)

Cracks in mirrors can fragment your life’ how does one reverse a fragmented self’

Mirrors are known to increase vital Chi (energy) of a space itself, than what about me?

“Mirror mirror on they wall, who is the most Displaced of us all?”

The human mind will see only’ what it wants to see, in the most truthful object possibly ever known of; The Mirror’

Unfortunately the human mind cannot sight beyond appearance, skin, hair, or even a fake smile set in a locked mirror image called a photograph.

False inner self’

False Smile that tries to hold the day’

False attitude I we wear’

The mirror shows us all;

what is it that you would to sight ?

Mirror mirror on the wall who is the sweet soul locked inside of me?’

Mirror replies at last, look deep within and you will see what your searching for, it is not lost yet, wake up and look into the beauty that you still portray. Look at the real meaning behind that fake smile, Look behind the first layer of your skin and shall find what you seek my child ’  –  Ora’

I look so hard and so dedicated yet I still cannot find what I’m trying to view.

I keep looking for hours and hours till the day ends and all I manage to find after a struggle is; A miserable me.

Mirror Mirror on the wall’……..




The Locked up soul


This little piece is dedicated to myself, and the intro of “The Locked up soul”, which will be one of my dominant topics, a little story about myself, possibly the other side of me that I once lost.


Where is her soul?

Why has she always cried out to search where she is ? I think I can  hear her.


she is lost’

amongst herself’

amongst the amidst of life’

she lost her soul a long time ago’

Very far away from here’


Once upon a time there was a little girl,

she loved to smile and her giggles would light up the room.

She was pure and innocent to the world,

The world that along her journey stole her smile’

her little chuckle would now echo inside my mind

The warmth of her presence is just an eerie feeling now,

and her memory is what lives on each day…

till the day she will find her soul

Till she relives again.



Mental happiness Or is it Illness.

Mental illness

It’s a condition that drains each living cell out of you
It’s a torture to live with it each day,
It’s not a nice feeling to wake up knowing that once the day and the errands are done, one will have to pop a load of pills and shut off the brain.The restlessness that occurs in sleep and the heart palpitations in the awake life is a taunting feeling

Each second the clock ticks, one stares at it hoping that it just runs faster than it actually is and when it’s time to wrap up things one wishes that it wasn’t so fast that time flew

Each morning one wakes with the hope for the sun to set so the brain can shut off

Help and support is always and abundantly available but when one is in a zone of feeling below 5 kilometres per hour, it seems a task and I mean a burdening task to reach out.

After all who would want to hear my shit”
That’s the voice from inside that makes you want to cave in and not utter a word

The clouds never seem to pass over the suns rays and one cannot be exposed to the comforting warmth of the sun.
The clouds just get darker and darker,
Never to want to leave and if there ever was a positive outlook well that’s when it rains and floods the thoughts washing them all back to where they started off

A vicious cycle of self hatred and despise
It’s definitely not a good feeling to live with each day.

When one wakes up and tries to make a move towards some activity, the physical Strength seems to weaken by the minute ,
Each task seems a chore!
Each movement seems to drain the soul, if one even realises they have a soul left’

Mental illness is like a cancer that kills each cell of your body and takes over to the point when the illness is so obvious that one realises that the only way to find any salvage is to turn life back into gods hand. Again if one can console to a god than that’s probably a positive , usually the faith and hope factor is long gone.

The brain can no longer recognise happiness and can no longer respond to something positive as a “happy” moment. So the individual actions on the happiness to make it a negative experience and that is because the the brain has imprinted sadness and uselessness as Normal”

The norm for people like myself is the abnormal for the people that are the opposite breed of us
Smiling is great for the skin and a perfect facade that one can hold against the reality that they live.

Writing this is probably making me realise that I cannot do this for much longer.
If anyone is to lay their eyes and bother spending the time to read it they might just chuckle (or some may agree).
The point is that one in my shoes doesn’t want anyone to read this because there are many books and text out there that have published this and becomes a great read for people.

One weakness in people like me is that we try to have the flash looks and the flashiest objects to make us feel like we have it all under control, but let’s just face the truth the high price tagged items don’t really bring one happiness , if anything when one looks back it makes one realise how lonely they are that they had to try and buy a little smile for the fortnight.

Humans (people) are amazing creatures and maybe that’s why we are the ones that can voice ourselves and becomes presidents and terrorist to the place called earth”
But the biggest downfall of humans are that they like to fake it till they make it,
This is one big cause of loneliness and depression.
We are the most lucky alongside the most unlucky creatures of the earth.
Sometimes I look at my puppy and wish he could just talk back to me and tell me how he feels, to tell me his emotions and make me feel like I’m not that worse off after all, unfortunately that doesn’t happen.

We tend to crawl towards things that make us happy for a moment and than cling to it. The biggest downfall is that once in the below the rainbow zone , one always seems to pick and attach oneself to that zone. The zone than does more damage and the so called victim” the patient of mental illness, seems to like the fact that they are such “feel sorry for me” people

Mental illness is a nasty plague that spreads and I can guarantee you that 3:5 people are the victims, and will remain victims
Self pity makes it worse by the minutes. Never have self pity

Those tablets seem like they are shrinking by the weeks as it’s no longer enough to balance the chemicals in the brain, one needs more and more and than the brain and body becomes immune to the treatment that one takes daily or even twice in a day

Remedy is great ! But what is the definition of it?
What’s the definition of prevention?
When people say prevention is better than cure and remedy is great for healing ?
Like are they seriously serious ?
I do not think that the population in that breed are realising that those words are just Words for us’
Nothing of the above really make sense to us’
The population need to realise that when people are mentally ill’ they do not have the ability to understand the definition and put it in place in their lives.
Those words just become literature’ for the ones that are on this side of the fence.

My practitioner had been my backbone for that many years that now when I look back I realise that I use the practitioner as a safety blanket like a toddler used to hold close so they don’t feel alone or get nightmares and that’s all , someone that doesn’t judge me and can see some hope in me (by saying that I can guarantee 1:100 would be like the practitioner I see).
Somewhat I call myself very lucky when it comes to that context.
When I reflect , I too am a practitioner, and sometimes it’s hard for us to try and help, it’s because we know that by letting our clients go, is the best way to help them and the way for teaching them to cope.

All of us deserve to be thrown in the deep end to make sure we can swim up, and not drown, but the fact that there is a chance of drowning, is scary so we never take the dip.

The pharmacists probably thinks that this woman is really a ticking time bomb but they still smiles and make a joke in some hope that maybe this will cease, or the opposite that this is my biggest client.
If only one could read minds.

Calculating all that I have said, I have just placed myself back to square one. Like the musical chair game that never ends.
I hope that this context can help anyone realise that one that feels like myself is not a normal’ feeling . And that people from my breed can reflect on themselves before they get to this point.

All this is Easily printed in books and directed by famous movie makers in Hollywood, let’s face the truth that this is NOT a movie set and it will never ever be.
The difference is that the story in a penguin books eventually ends and they sell out.
The Hollywood blockbuster makes millions with an ending to accomodate a sequel, unfortunately the prequel and sequel and the the current present is all bundled in my brain.

It’s so bizarre that a whole episode of forensic files can complete and when I look away from the screen all I can see is a dark light , I do not remember anything I watched. I do not Remember anything I heard.
And the brain processes some text I can voice verbally but the tongue still can’t lay it out.

It’s probably the hundredth time I have mentioned the words mental illness , I fact I haven’t I just think I have.
Call it anxiety, depression, stress, post traumatic stress disorder, personality disorder or whatever fancy name you would like to attach with a bright silver ribbon.
The fact that any of these words don’t matter either. Mental weakness is a fatal killer.
It kills worse than slow poisoning of the blood stream.
Like blood platelets drop in a Sick and detoriating patient, there is no blood count here , they is no visual symptoms that one can see.
And no monitor to plug on to tell the doctor I need review now.
This illness is one of a kind,
I like to call myself a well educated person with self confidence ( but that cannot be )
Because that’s the face I wear each day.

One look at myself in the mirror and I realise I can see the illness but no one else can visualise it.
No One else can feel the way I feel, empathy in this illness is hard. Sympathy is gained very easily and that’s one things that the individual does Not want ( like hello it only took me years to write this).

Mental illness is such …

Blog at

Up ↑