Tag Archives: life

Be Qualm-ing a parent

via Daily Prompt: Qualm

I think those little pregnancy tests,

Should come with a guide of how to do the rest,

Not nappies, nor milk, or the right things to eat,

But the qualms that you’ll have to meet.

If you thought weaning brought about enough frets,

Consider for a moment the tooth fairy dreads,

When will she come, and does she have slaves,

Does she have a wand, and will my sister also get paid?

So you qualm through this one, creating a whole charade,

Glitter, letters, coins and answers all getting replayed.

To the time you panicked when your child said,

They would like six kids whilst going to bed,

Can’t sleep without those ten toys,

What will the neighbours think of this noise?

How to explain that hole that they’ve dug,

Everything is better with a calm down hug.

Do we have eggs like chickens waiting to crack?

Why have the kids not given me the sack?

Next their heads on the pillows do rest, 

House is silent, and toys no longer a mess.

The sun sets on yet another childhood day,

We survived it, at last, hooray!

Be qualm-ing a parent,

It wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t feel this way!

‘Sunset dreams.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.

Poetry – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Photography – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

What if?

What if?

What if everything you said was written down?

What if everyone knew the reason behind that frown?

What if every insult was tattooed,

So that we could see what a sorry really doesn’t remove.

What if you had no one to talk to today?

Or you ignored the one person who needed you to help in your way?

What if we talked about brains and not brawn,

Words instead of fashion sizes?

What if?

‘What if?’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Introducing my latest photography project, ‘What do you see?’.

Inspired by how we, the media, magazines, articles, even online talk about ourselves, others and celebrities. The words that are used to define someone. Rather than intelligence, brains, words, actions, we are still being described by physical attributes and the fashions we wear.

Our sizes, looks, clothes, weight, used every day, all over the world to generate articles, photographs, discussions. What is good for the goose, is not good for the gander. Where one person will be complimented for their great weight loss one day, the same place could also write a negative article about too much weight loss to another person. It only takes a flick through what should be the news sections of the internet to see this happening. Yesterday I did a flick through the first page of one news start page, and found ‘gym-toned’, ‘wrong clothes’, ‘cosmetic surgery addiction’, ‘incredible bikini body’, ‘vision of beauty’, ‘extremely thin’. All of these being used as parts of titles, defining that person within one sentence.

I’ll be working through this project with all of the above in mind, hoping to create a reaction to what is now seen as an every day, normal part of our life. Professionally printed photographic prints of the images from this project will be available to order. At the end of the project, any models will also be available to buy. Your support for the project will also help others, keep your eyes peeled, as I will explain all later into the project.

For now, here’s the first sneak image from the project that was shared with the Facebook page last night –

‘Stop judging.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Any questions or orders relating to the project, please contact us directly. We can be contacted on this website, by e-mail to – rose-skyjourneypieces@outlook.com , on the Facebook page Rose-Sky Journey Pieces Facebook page (external link) or Twitter @rsjourneypiece .

Looking forward to showing you all more of this project as it develops,

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

Photography – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Poetry – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Fire for life

Let the fire for life burn bright,

Never stop appreciating life’s delights.

Show, not tell the children how to grow,

Keep searching for new things to know.

Let creativity take it’s own flight,

Be you, be individual, burn bright.

‘Flower embers.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.


Poetry – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Photography – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.

Photographic prints, and poetry ready to order or commissions welcome, please contact us directly.

There’s a hero in all of us!

WP_20170508_07_02_17_Pro (4)
‘There’s a hero in all of us’ Art by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, May 2017.

Last night’s quick doodle with pen. The inspiration was my children, a trip to town where we spent nearly the whole journey with hands on their heads….

Because in the shadows they then looked like Batman…. 🙂

Feel free to contact me directly with any questions or orders.

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

Do I grate on you?

Do I grate on you?

Get under your skin, but never quite let in.

Do you see me here?

Not just a shape, more than t&a to explore?

Could you hear me now?

Listen to those thoughts and  dreams,

Everything, just ain’t what it seems no more.

Do you want a yes girl,

A turn around and make you smile girl.

Wrapped in those botox coated dreams,

No, everything just ain’t what it seems,

no more.

Do I grate on you?

The way your parents do?

Did you read my CV, or just the label on my skirt seam.

Would you know what I’m worth?

Congratulate on our part in the universe?

No, everything just ain’t what it seems no more.

Do you want a yes girl,

A turn around and make you smile girl.

Wrapped in those botox coated dreams,

No, everything just ain’t what it seems,

no more.

Could this by our day?

Hear you say thank you for what we have made,

Our pretending is done,

No more fat and thin articles to run.

Stopping the degrading in it’s tracks,

Ruining everything trying to hold us back.

One mind, one body, one soul,

One heart, one world.

We will be anything, no categories to withhold,

I want to grate on the world, not be a ghost to pose.

Do you want a yes girl,

A turn around and make you smile girl.

Wrapped in those botox coated dreams,

No, everything just ain’t what it seems,

no more.

Prose – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, completed April 2017.

Photography – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.


Life grater
‘Life grater.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.

Flower thoughts

Flower thoughts

Thousands of petals, thousands of words,

Were they all seen, were they all heard?

Was a single one missed today or back then?

Are they priceless or regarded as nature’s gems?

Hundreds of flowers, hundreds of thoughts,

Were they all loved, were they all understood?

Was there one to change the current outlook?

Are they appreciated or simply overlooked?

Every one plant, every one sowed,

Will we look after, will we let them know?

Is this a chance to rewrite and photosynthesis?

Are they important, to you or to I?

Poetry – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, April 2017.

Photography – Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, April 2017.

‘True romance.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, April 2017.

A new chance

A new chance.

As the clock strikes midnight everyday,

The new day gets ready for the beautiful dawn,

A fresh chance for you and for me,

To make our mark, in our own unique ways.

Flowers delicately unfolding, blossoming in dew,

Birds delightfully singing their own tune.

Rays of beautiful sunlight bringing the world to life,

Grateful to be alive is the response to this cue.

24 hours reset on the old clock,

1440 minutes to carve a new journey,

Start it, complete it, or let it undo,

It’s up to us how to use those tick-tocks.

Will you take the new chance to  shake up this rock?

Poetry by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, April 2017.

Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.

New chance
‘New chances.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.

The oxymoron week – Weekend coffee share.

I would pre warn you that this week, for me at least (and the business) has been an oxymoron kind of week.

My warning will probably be before we even reach our drink destination, so to not drag up the joy and anguish by surprise. The sun has been shining at last, maybe even an outside seat could be in order. After how this week has presented highs, lows and some considering thinking, a cake is in order too. Calories and sugar don’t count in time of crisis and of pondering.

I would ask if you and your family are ok. I would hope that you were not affected by those events in London this week. That I would explain this is why there has been a lack of posts this week, trying to show some respect to the event and those involved. Briefly touching upon my own work, that hours before the events unfolded, there I was ready to post new photography and poetry too. Badly timed, or something else, it was my first piece of political themed poetry. That and the decayed rose petals seemed insignificant, even distasteful after the tragic news broke.

This would not be a rant about religions or the person or persons behind it. My main concern would be those affected. If my two pence was ever wanted or asked for, I would say that this event, killings, murders are not acceptable, nor needed for any religion, ethnicity, gender or country. There is never an excuse for what happened, and so horribly I can now only predict that this could result in further, maybe unnecessary restrictions and assumptions. These by the political knee jerks to the event, to also those tarring all those with the same religion, race, or skin colour with the same brush. This event was unthinkable, life changing for those involved and affected. Not just London, but no country, no humans should lose their lives or have them affected in this manner, ever.

I would hope that the conversation didn’t get too deep, too soon, and I would listen to your views too with an open mind. It was the above that led to the delays in sharing the new stuff, because it didn’t seem important at the time. A mouth full of cake, to sweeten the mood, and I would welcome you to share your new products and developments from this week.

If you asked about mine, there is one poem already mentioned, ready to post at a later date now. There’s another poem, almost song lyric like nearly finished about being invisible. New photography of rose petals. On the Facebook page Rose-Sky Journey Pieces Facebook page (external link) there’s been new doodle art shared, as well as the start of the latest craft project. So far three hours have gone into something, which, looks to be a week to complete.

Finally on to tomorrow, Mothering Sunday for us here in the U.K. A date, which whilst filled with joy and appreciation, I believe just the same as Valentine’s and Father’s Day that the acts shouldn’t just be undertaken or shown on just one day a year. To the mothers, foster mothers, adopted mothers, step mothers, grandmothers, aunties, mother-in-laws and ‘just like a mum’, thank you to you all for the role you’ve played for bringing children into the children, and helping to raise them. To the father’s who are also mum and dad, kudos to you too. To all those wherever you are, however you do it, that help to care, to bring the best out in children all over the world, you are appreciated, needed, wanted, loved and thanked. If you are celebrating tomorrow, I hope that you have a lovely day, there might even be a flower or two as well!

It would only be right to ask about your own family traditions about these special days, and anything you have planned either for yourself, or for those you love.

The cake is going down well, in fact too well! It’s not flattened the sugar craving, but at least it’s subdued for now.

I thank you for listening to the rant, the thoughts, pondering, and updates. I wish you, and everyone else a safe week to come. To be blessed and grateful to be alive, to be here in the present, and to be the best you that you could be.

‘Live the life you love, love the life you live.’

For now,

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces. x


Never again

Her tiny frame, vowed never again. Never again, would she listen to what was endured. Never would it have to be endured. Never again, would she play third party…

Having only been asleep for what seemed like minutes, she stirred in her room. The room small, dark, yet usually comforting and familiar. Trying to decode why she was awoken, realising there is no sunlight glaring through the curtains, she laid there, still.

Her heart beating, and although no exertion was required, that heart started to thump. The beat faster, stronger, almost ripping through her frozen still body. A sound she would know too well, the voice not of a stranger, but of the one who should protect her, guide her, love her even. The father’s voice billowing around the house despite the night time hours. Tuning in further, she recognised those cries from her mother, the other protector.

He was mad. Vulgar with his language, his tone. The swear words that girl could not comprehend, the names called she had never heard uttered before. Volume of his nasty ways getting louder, the ping-pong between shouts to cries getting faster in time. She couldn’t move, for fear of being heard. The tears stinging her cheeks, but no noise could escape her mouth. Another episode, memory etched of being that one in five statistic.

Slam! The little ears heard her mother’s body hit the stairs. Not a comedy slap, but a heart-sinking thud as the body collided with those steps. She could hear that he was stood above the body still not content enough to let this slide. Bang! The porch door bounced better than the mother did. It flew open with such retaliating aggression. Delicate ears hearing the scramble for the front door, the shaking of the door handle as the female tried to escape that aggressor. No keys, and it was locked. His retaliation was to lock her between the front door, and that solid porch door.

What must she felt to be locked out, yet in, in the middle of the night? Was she trying to be quiet for the sake of us, when we could already hear the drama involved. Was she cold, afraid, or angry?

It didn’t matter what she had done, what she had said, or promised at all. For the child just begged in her head that he would walk away, say sorry, or just get up and leave one day. Whatever had rattled that big cage, did not excuse what the girl could not un – hear that very day.

That little girl was angry. Angry for being awoken. For not being a normal child, asleep, dreaming of the next day. Bitter for not being able to stop the monster. Fuming for what he had made her mother endure. Scared for where he would head next, if he could find her awake. Fear froze her to the bed, but in her head, she was already downstairs opening the door, chucking him out, calling the police. Phoning anyone, for this was all their little family secret. Tucked away from family, friends, prying eyes.

No recollection of when she did fall back to sleep, or when she awoke. No memory of whether it was a school day, or a special day, for it had already been tarnished either way. The mother in bed, sleeping like a baby. Covers first, and then clothes later on, hiding whatever damage had been done. Scanning the room for evidence, to squash the thought it might of been just a bad dream, she finds them. The broken glasses, the bent and cut wedding band ring.

Her heart sinks, and sick rises. There was no dream, no nightmare, no make believe. This time there was evidence, something to show their special family secret. She willed, begged for someone to ask about the missing glasses, the forgotten ring. But mother was not brave, maybe blessed with forgiveness, a second, third chance, who knows. Verbally, the lies started to unfold, the girl listening, watching to excuses pile up. Nobody would believe the girl, that laid awake in the middle of the night, when the two protectors, life givers would construct such a barrier of lies. So it stayed consumed for a number of years, eating away, causing nightmares, worries, stress onto the child. Just as predicted by that young soul, when it did emerge, it was still denied. Rubbished by all, minimised, excused. He swarmed and charmed in a suit, and with that car. Yet, the exterior however flashy, can’t hide who you are, the real past.

The monster on the stairs has yet to face real consequences for what happened that night, that week, month, year and years. Perhaps his real sentence is a lost daughter, grandchildren he has never heard laugh, nor speak.

Never again would she listen to those excuses, to hear those whimpers upon her pillow. Her patience with those actions would vanish that starry night. No one, no exceptions should have to fear for their life.

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

Written 2017.

Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.


Rubber bands

They tiptoed around what it had become, where they were now, and what was to come…

Their romance had withstood the aging of time. Ticking watches no match for what they had created. Days, months, years had come, were seen, and gone again. All twisted into the whirlwind that originally started this movement.

Life’s journey steps not thwarted their love attempts. Everything designed to shake their very existence, their way of being, not an issue for these two. It made them stronger, more determined, perhaps bolder than before. What they couldn’t achieve alone, they achieved together. Encouraging one another, to places where they hadn’t been before. A sincere belief in the good of each other. The passion for the other ones’ passion, almost as strong as their own spark for life in each of their ways.

Words spoken, even those unspoken woven into each other’s memories. Every compliment, passing phrase helping to define the couple, the individuals they were today. The sparkle of his eyes, the smile moving across her soft lips. Each gesture, each secret, gentle gesture shared between them alone.

His touch left tingles upon her spine. The way she softened his brows with her ring adorned fingers. The hugs that turned to embraces. That led to kisses, and nights of passion. ‘I care’ in the taking of the hand before crossing the road, leading her to safety in a world where she could still hold her own. Two white golds rings now revolving the finger where he delicately placed the rings. Time hadn’t changed their love, but had thinned those fingers that held the wedding symbols. Hands that had held each other during the joy, the births of children, the losses of life. Fingers that had intertwined during prayer, of hope, for safety, someone to care. Hands and skin that were weathered from the cooking, and life itself. Despite all this, here they are, in what they had created. His ring now gone, stored away somewhere safe, for where her fingers had slimmed, the weight his fingers had gained.

Voices they can’t mistake, a hello that was begging to be saved. From the first smile, something sparked, a collision destined for something. Neither could still answer exactly what that something was. A questionable force that drove them together, stuck them together with a superglue life mix, and left them forever entangled in each other’s lives, thoughts and hearts. Along the way there had been steps that have stretched that rubber band of love. Where others would have snapped, or let them band go, even when stretched to the thinnest a band would go, they were still there. Consciously, unconsciously, who knows, but they were there, both holding on. If you ever want to know if a band has been stretched too far, try letting it ping back again. Watch the looks, the expressions, those silent rolling tears as you again come face to face. The gentle good-byes, the after thoughts. Should that spark still remain, and remain within them in indeed it did, the journey proceeds once again.

The circle that had gone full circle, had been lapped, many times by this pair. A pair of love birds perhaps, the sun to his moon. The salt to the pepper. The cheese to the pizza slice. Wherever this path may dance next along the way, nothing was more certain than the memories that would remain. Something that couldn’t be broken, no matter where they were, or what they were doing. He would forever be a part of her journey, and she a part of his. Into his eyes, she longed to gaze once again, to see what laid within his soul. That laugh he could never forget, a crazy moment shared over those certain hot drinks.

It would all be worth it, if she could say it again,

I love you.

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

Words by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2016.

‘Glitter rose.’ Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces. 2016.