This Starry Night-Based on Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”

Published August 26, 2014 by masonlovesdoughnuts

the village sleeps
unaware that tonight
is a Starry Night

the creature
that was once a Prince
watches from the tower
cursing the stars that dance
to the moon’s harp
swirls of ball gowns and suits
whirl before him
the cigar smoke strangles his throat,
his ears drown in laughter,
struggling to breathe he looks up and sees
her face, the moment
he lost all sanity

the townspeople say                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            he is different                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      his skin has yet to feel                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       the warm presence of sunlight

his pointed teeth                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          lusting after bare necks                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     his features unsightly                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            a mass of melted flesh

he is not like the others                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  they call him strange, peculiar, awkward                                                                                                                                                                                                                      he is alone                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         only his past to taunt him

 a whisper in the night                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       an owl’s cry                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            a wolf’s howl                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       the creature that was once a Prince                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  is night itself                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    attending a masquerade

the sky recoils                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               hiding in fear                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  tonight is a starry night                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     he buckles to the floor                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       looks up and sees his madness                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   reaching up his hands in surrender                                                                                                                                                                                                                               he screams




Published August 23, 2014 by masonlovesdoughnuts

The sea clings to my skin
a fatal tear sets it a storm
I will cry this burden
for as long as it takes

I pray
your sails will fly high again
on the same horizon where we first met
the sun wept red

but yet you go
into the dark
you sailed away
from us

here I still stand
upon this shore
I wait to see

Our fate
Our destiny
Our love

my heart keeps a beat
strong and free
in the waves of rage
that is the unknown sea

By Emma Jane Mackay

Health Kick-start

Published August 20, 2014 by masonlovesdoughnuts

I warn you dear readers, this post will involve the mysteries of the female body and will include words like periods and ovaries. If you are faint of heart or do not wish to read about this information then I beg you to go drink some pimms in the sunshine.

The past few months my diary has been filled to the brim with appointments and tests at the hospital. It has been an exhausting journey, a proper rollercoaster ride except I never wanted to get on the damn thing in the first place. I want off! I am that annoying person who as soon as they have been strapped in, I am screaming that I have changed my mind. The other day was hopefully for a while at least, the last piece in the puzzle, the final bit that I needed to get done so I can sleep better at night.

As I may have mentioned before dear readers, since the whole C-section I have been paranoid that something has gone wrong. If it’s not my foot feeling wired then it’s my stomach being in agonising pain. I had convinced myself that something was amiss and it was driving me crazy. So I set about the quest to the GP where I spoke of my fears and had a number of tests done to double-check my health. All of these tests have come back and they are all good, nothing to report. The other day I had the last test done which was a scan to check my uterus and ovaries. That too went well apart from the nurse saying that I have polycystic ovaries. Come again? I queried her, I have what? I felt a little sick, what the hell was polycystic ovaries.

To save me going on and on about it, here is a detailed link of the condition.

Basically I don’t ovulate as often as other women; I can have a gap for as long as 4 to 9 months before I get my next period. My ovaries have a number of small cysts filled with fluid. This makes it harder for me to conceive. Which is ironic considering I have a son. I have learned from reading a number of websites and people’s personal experiences with this condition, that my choice of lifestyle can affect it.

It is from this that I have decided to maybe take a little bit more care of myself. I have decided to drink more water and only have diet coke now and then with dinner, eat more veg and fruit, work out more and just be more positive. I am not going to beat myself up if I decide I want to eat a whole chocolate cake. I want to take better care of myself just overall because since the whole C-section and birth of my son, I have felt unhealthy and want to take control of my body again. I am so sick of being in pain and feeling helpless. It’s time for mummy bunny to kick butt!

Now, where is that chocolate cake?

Hop hop, wiggle wiggle.

Straw No More

Published August 20, 2014 by masonlovesdoughnuts

Out of nowhere
came the blue
a voice from the earth
an echo from the lake
a whisper in my ear
She’s gone

I take a grain
and looked into its eyes
my heart feels sick and dares
to turn
Don’t take this away from me

our unspoken goodbyes
shatter at my chest
they thunder at my skin
I am caged

a hand on my shoulder
offers sicken comfort
and ill sympathy
There was nothing we could do

no more summer days
skipping about the garden
the grass was our magic carpet
The sky was our world

now every time
my eyes look up
to those white fluffy clouds
my mind will wonder to you

That wiggle
That made me giggle


By Emma Jane Mackay

The End Of Me? / Dramatic Monologue Poem

Published August 19, 2014 by masonlovesdoughnuts

What is this vision of death before me?
is this what they call the end?
this figure dressed as winter’s breath
who gives a loving push over the edge

I see, myself falling

falling off this cliff top

like a spoon stuck in a jar of honey
how can these be my hands gripping the rail
they are old and soft, worn leather
with lines of confusion weaving to and fro
the cliff face gets smaller and smaller

seagulls scatter
flooding away from the scene

when did I begin to wear knitted jumpers                                                                                                                                                                                                                  with misshapen cats sitting on my chest
flexing their paws

my fingers outstretch towards the sky

my head splits on a rock

the sea bubbles with my blood
why do I feel like I have been here before
when life was free and love was divine
the sun would never go down
I see, myself
just, nowhere

Nowhere. Not even here
on this very spot
with the grass between my feet
crushing the daisies with my toes
watching them bleed pollen
I put them to a peaceful end
 I see, the end of me…
By Emma Jane Mackay


The green green grass

Published August 17, 2014 by masonlovesdoughnuts

It makes me giggle when I think how much a patch of grass can make all the difference. For roughly a year now we have been without a garden. Now, thanks to some incredibly generous family members we have somewhere to sit when the sun decides to come out and play.

It is the most wonderful feeling to be able to open the back doors, hop a few paces forward and place a foot on freshly laid grass. It’s heaven and makes me all smiley and sunshiny inside. Growing up in Devon I was always surrounded with nature’s beauty but since leaving and moving my view is of tall buildings and grey horizons. For the past four years I have been living in flats which meant no garden. When we finally moved last year to a house, the garden was not accessible (a long story I won’t bore you with dear readers) But now, at last there is in fact green grass on the other side!

So now we have the luxury to just sit and potter about in the garden on days like today when the sun is dancing all around, birds are singing and the air is filled with that delicious smell of burgers and sausages cooking on the BBQ. Cabbit loves crawling on the grass and turning over onto his back to just gaze at the sky. He has this very deep intense look of curiosity on his face when he does this, like he is connecting himself to the world’s soundtrack.


As a mother I promote him getting outside as much as possible as it helps development. It also helps me; I get some fresh air and feel much happier when I’m out in the sun (as long as I’m not melting to death). There’s something about being outside that makes you think how glorious life can be. I don’t know if it’s the nature or the smell of life happening around you, it just feels magical, happy. Just thinking about it now as I stuff my face with pom-bears makes me smile and sigh. I feel like a fluffy cloud!

Hope you have a lovely evening dear readers, I am off to finish reading my book (SO CLOSE TO FINISHING) with a cup of tea while hubby works on his uni assignments.

Hop hop, wiggle wiggle.


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