Tag Archives: ramblings

Under construction!

A little notification pops up reminding me that it’s now a year since I started this journey of blogging and sharing with WordPress.

A year that seems to have flown by too quickly. There’s a mountain of digital images still waiting to surface on this site, to be set free from the constraints of the file explorer system in which they live.

In a year this site has gone from something I thought no one would read or even find, to now gaining¬†it’s own little (but not any less important) following and momentum. A big, and not cheesy thank you to everyone who has stopped to say hello, look or encourage the site along.

It’s also a year in which, as typical as life does, life has thrown a curve ball. The purest of intentions of sharing daily might not have been met just yet, and there’s been one sulky face at whenever real life has pulled me away from what I really love to do. No matter the distance of the curve ball, or the strength of it’s force as it plunders through what was known, deep down I still want to photograph everything, pretty and not so pretty. Write a lot, with the words just leaping out of my finger tips, yet my most recent tapping patterns have not been shared for now at least, for the less than rainbows emotions.

Let’s put a new foot forward to the next year on here, and start by saying you will find this site under the construction of the fairies again today. Plenty to upload, although if you can’t wait for everything to be finished, the Facebook page has got some sneak peeks of what’s been achieved around everything called life.

Thank you again for reading the ramblings, and viewing those snaps and clicks. Looking forward to greeting more of you to the site in this next year, and discovering more of your own pages too.

For now, it’s time for a cuppa break before the work fairies set in. ūüôā

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.


My wish for you

My wish for you.

Today, dear mini me marks the anniversary since your birth, another birthday clocked up. Time is going all too quickly as I think back to those labouring hours, to how now you stand proud and tall at nearly my shoulder height. I didn’t get the birth I planned, but we got the birth that you needed. You rocked up into our world two weeks early, and despite protests from those at the hospital that I wasn’t in labour and I had instead a urine infection, you my little determined one was born 9 hours later. There’s me ready to doubt my own body, because over and over, even after the waters broke we were told we were not doing labour that night, yet here we are celebrating your birthday in June and not July! Your determination and head-strong antics have continued and served you well ever since.

There are things that I will say here, that won’t concern you now, today, or this year. It’s what I’m thinking, and not what will be said out loud. For my first wish for you, is to not taint your childhood, innocent view of the world, now or ever. I wish that you can continue to be surprised, grateful and inspired by the smallest of things. When you’re collecting leaves and flowers on the way to and from school, my plight is not to stop you, but to stop the home owners that may grumble at your collection techniques. I wish too, that we all were noticing the different leaves, rather than zig-zagging our way through lives with to-do lists in tow.

This past week or so, I have worried and contemplated on whether I have brought the right presents. Whether there was enough. Not that I want you to be spoilt, although it’s your special day. As you’ve grown, the presents have grown too, so whilst the number has gone down, and the unwrapping time reduced, the thought, the saving up remains the same. My heart sank when announced you didn’t think you would get many presents, and when I asked what you counted as many you said 50. I knew you weren’t serious, but the mummy guilt kicked in. Tempting as it was to go all out, to blow everything, I hope one day you can be grateful that unlike many in this world, we still have a roof over our heads, and food in our bellies. Today you announced it was the best day of your life, your best birthday ever, and you loved me so much. I captured the look on your face as you opened your presents, and the smile from the smallest hamster eraser up to your main present. My second wish for you is to remain as grateful and appreciating as you were this morning, every day. Your smile melted away those mummy fears in an instant.

That smile, please don’t let any take that smile away from you. The way you smiled at your presents, to getting excited over everything, all the time. A smile to say I love you, a smile over catching a spider, that smile over the first fish you caught, or over what your pet has done now. It doesn’t matter what you wear, if you’re wearing that proud smile everyone notices, the same as your laugh. My third wish is that you will find something to smile about always.

As we count another birthday, it strikes me that we are one closer to adulthood. That the number of summers left until your 18th are dwindling, and that in a decade, probably less you might not care for my wonky home-made cakes, or tea parties any more. I’ll be sending you out into the big wide world. One that today, recently, looks scary, uncertain and mean. One that I can’t explain fully when you ask why that’s happened, or it’s happened again. Spending time making sure that what you can see on the television, the computer is protecting you from most of what’s out there. Yet soon, I won’t be able to do that full time, and you’ll be able to see everything, the good and the bad of this place called Earth. My fourth wish for you is that you never have to experience or see some of the horrors that this planet has. That you may help others when you can, and that you remain true to you. Shout out for what you believe in, have an opinion, raise your voice. Talk for those who might otherwise be silenced. Don’t let the world change you, but be prepared to work to change your corner of the world, whatever it’s size.

The fifth and final wish for you on your birthday is that you know there is always a mummy here. When it drops to just being mum, I’ll still be there. When you’re too cool to hold hands in the street, I’m still there. No matter where you are, or what you do, there’s also a little me here whether it be for a hand to hold, or an ear to chew. I’m there, with wonky cakes in tow too.

Wishing the mini me a great birthday, full of all those wishes, smiles, laughter and more.


Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

What do you see?

Dear you,

Yes you reading this. You, as in the younger me. You, as in the reporters, the writers the social media shakers and makers.

You are enough. As you. Just you. Not you after weight loss. Not you plus fillers, creams and filled dermal needles. Not you in that fashion that costs more than most pay for rent. Just you, always just be you.

You with your quirky smile. Hey you over there who has aced making cakes, or the one that always manages to remember everyone’s birthdays. Even when no one remembers yours. You that takes the fall for your colleagues, the one that works more unpaid over time than hours on the clock. Yep, you’re there, you are still enough.

You, the mother, the new parent with a new bundle of responsibility to support. You are enough, just as you are. No matter the rebound to pre-baby weight, how you fed, how you gave birth. Because I’ll let you into a secret, every parent has worries, and can make mistakes. You are enough, for you, for your child, for your family. Be there, be present as you.

To the teen wondering where to go, you are enough. To those grades which life revolved, you are also enough. Those thinking they can’t carry on, you are enough.

You that may cry yourself to sleep, that hides fears or illness from everyone. To those with medical conditions that we can’t see, and you don’t feel like explaining for the hundredth time this week, I see you too. The ones feeling lonely, or can’t say they have friends. Waking up not able to remember the last time you spoke to someone, anyone, no phone calls, no texts, no visits, I see you too.

I see the ones that just go about their day, no big loud voices or luck thrown their way. The ones choosing between heating and food. Everything crossed for not another benefit cut, I see you too. Those that know the chill of the park bench at night, you are enough too. The ones praying for any good news. I can hear the tears of those finding out their worlds have imploded by another part of the world news. You, so scared for one or many reasons of your life, that you don’t notice whether your socks are matching, or your roots have been done. You that choose to block out the horror that life has dished you out with the party charade, the tipples, or illegal highs. I see you with the happy social media pretence too, if only they could see the real, not selfie you. The middle of the night, the waking up, the hard working, the thoughtful, the quiet and sad sides of you. You are enough too.

Then I see you, the reporters in tow. Telling me how X has lost this much weight, or how bad Y looks with their weight loss or gain. Informing me between news of lives lost, most importantly about the designer dress that one chose to wear, or that a certain celeb only spent £20 on their latest swimwear. Adverts and articles for looking younger, looking slim, spending money on looks rather than healthy eating and the gym. Please remember when you are reporting that some that you highlight have the money, the time, and the experts to get every waking moment just right. I also see the ones that you hound and judge, not able to eat even a cookie crumb without fear of you photographing a bloated tum.

So, what do you see? When you see me, when you see people in the streets? What do you look at for qualities in your friends and foe, what do you see when the media updates the celeb news? Can you see beyond the looks, the make-up, the clothes. Could you spot that person struggling to stay afloat? Could you praise manners, kindness, voluntary actions instead of who has kissed who on televised actions. I challenge you, the reader, the person described above, the future me, the media creators, to find something positive to say or think about everyone you meet. About everyone you write about, or photograph care free.

For nobody knows what lies beneath, what one might be thinking, or where their story has been.

What do you see?


Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, June 2017.

What do you see
‘What do you see?’ Part of the photography project by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces looking into perceptions, and media portrayals of people. Photography, Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2017.

Getting to know you!

A mini celebration here as this week the total followers has tipped over the 100 mark, so a big thank you!

Nothing fancy to mark the occasion, as life in the form of a leg splint has kind of got in the way (doesn’t it always!). However, as a big thank you to all the followers across all platforms, I’m going to share a little about me, would love to hear something from you, and also a new photograph too!

‘Moi’ The dreaded photography selfie by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, 2016.

So, as I’m sharing a little about me, here’s a first of an image of me, AKA the dreaded photography selfie. Note the lack of bandaged leg pictures that I was considering posting due to the sarcasm of someone sat close by, and perhaps a change of hair colour since this was taken as well. But otherwise a face to the blog at last!

Here are five random facts about me, and I would love it too if you, the readers could answer these too in the comments :

  1. Favourite word is – oxymoron. I heard it for the first time sat in GCSE English and it’s stuck ever since. The sound of the word, and the fact there is a word to describe opposites together is what draws me in. More so, hearing the way that Carol Ann Duffy used¬†the oxymoron in her poem Havisham ‘Beloved sweetheart Bast*** ‘ making an insult sound so good!
  2. The song currently spinning around my head is – ‘Skin’ by Rag n Bone man. Love the lyrics and how he describes almost love. It’s like he’s been there, giving it his all, and it’s still ended.
  3. The food I’m about to eat is – Lasagne!
  4. My earliest memory of writing stories is – Sitting in school, writing on white A4 sheets of paper. Drawing your own guidelines with a ruler and pencil, trying your best to write in pen. Concentrating on remembering to put a date and title at the top, your name at the bottom. Then spending far too long with the coloured pencils colouring in decorative borders and pictures around and below your writing piece!
  5. My claim to fame is – Meeting Ant n Dec on a ferry when I was about ten years old, with their bodyguards in tow. Also, I once got Band with no name to sign a pair of jeans… but we’ll leave that box of frogs sealed for now!


So now you know 5 random facts about me, I would love to hear yours too! Don’t forget to add what your blog is if you have one, and I’ll take a visit soon as well.

Take care,

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.

Here’s another new image as promised for sitting patiently through my ramblings –

‘True.’ Be true to you, always. Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, April 2017.

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.


Quarter life crisis…

If they really exist? Or perhaps it’s a change of motivation, new thinking, or enlightenment?

Ever been really bugged by the same, simple idea over and over again? You know the one that seems to not only creep into your day-time distracting thoughts away from the mundane, but the ones that now tip-toe around your dreams too?

That’s where we are, the site is, or rather I am this month, this week, today. An urge to do more, new things, expand on what’s already been done. A quick search of Bing, and apparently I’m too young for a mid-life crisis. I have to, need to be ok with this, as there’s now no excuse to buy a car I can’t afford or even drive, yet.

However, move over Bing, because perhaps Wikipedia can diagnose this new itch better.

‘The quarter-life crisis is a period of life ranging from twenties to thirties, in which a person begins to feel doubtful of their own lives, brought on by the stress of becoming an adult.’ ( Quarter-life crisis, Wikipedia external link¬†)

Hmmm, except, that becoming an adult thing, should of really been adjusted to by now. 15 years since I departed the home of my birth mother, and I’ve survived nappy changing and night feeds, and other not-so-shiny¬†past¬†times.¬†There might be an angelic glow of enlightenment after all….

Back to reality, and whatever it is, or whatever it shall be called, I still have this itch. This itch, drive, or crisis idea to not only photograph more, paint more, make more, but also to write. To write long, and meaningful. Funny, witty and experience sharing. Noting letter by letter, sentence to paragraph to page, a bit more about where I’ve been and what I think. We all think, we all experience, it’s whether to share that is the question.

To curb that hunger pain of writing, tapping, painting, clicking, you might now stumble onto more written posts across this site. If you would like to skip to whatever brings you here already, there will be no hard feelings, and there’s dedicated photography, art, and poetry sections already. On the other hand, if you fancy a read into what makes me tick, past experiences, as a female, parent and generally being a thinking, feeling, homo sapiens then please do. Pour yourself a brew, grab that biscuit (or two, because no one’s counting right?) with the added bonus that thoughts will be welcomed as well.

Whilst that’s the urge to articulate prose contained, for now, it’s time to find a cure for that crisis that makes you want to hold a paintbrush, or three….

Rose-Sky Journey Pieces.