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Helen J Radford Poem
My Grandma smelt of peppermints.
Her kitchen of boiling bacon,
and margarine - it was always steamy
and 'welcomingly' warm.
The bathroom, off the kitchen,
smelt of carbolic soap, and a layer
of talcum powder dusted the cupboards
a reminder of its liberal use.
The garden, with a greenhouse,
had a glorious array of pinks
and Sweet Williams - it was always summer:
no winters here, always sunny, as I recall.....
The old corrugated air-raid shelter,
above ground now, was a haven
for childhood, childish games.
It smelt of paraffin from the heater.
My Grandma smelt of peppermints.
She would lick her hanky and
wipe my mouth if it was sticky
from the gingerbread she'd made.
My Grandma always looked the same,
never younger, never older:-
her memory etched in my cerebral
photo frame as I remember her ........
smelling of peppermints,
fingers deformed with crippling arthritis,
but smiling, wiping mouths, cooking,
or sitting in her little garden in a floral dress.....
She's been gone for thirty years now,
but still I see her there.
I see the tissue filled pockets in her
'pinny'and the pin-curls in her hair.
Yes, my Grandma smelt of peppermints.........
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
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Helen J Radford Poem
I have become like him; nocturnal.
Prematurely anaesthetised by exhaustion
then jerked awake into the darkness.
How long since I have slept 'til dawn?
A stifled yawn veiling scurrying thoughts.
Tennis match of emotions; back and forth;
volleying, lobbing this way and that.
The game, set and match of insomnia.
Then rallying forth as dawn brings clarity.
Despairing disparity sleeping finally.
The silence of the night amplifies my heartbeat.
Each breath echoes in the unsettled gloom.
As the dawn casts its ghostly light around the room
sleepless wakefulness wanes with the retiring moon,
and the owl rests, fatigued by his 'whooing'.
Unlike me he can sleep by day, the night is his time,
not mine; I am the intruder in the darkness;
a restless insomniac with an overactive brain.
Sleep well majestic wise one. No doubt,
when night falls, I will share your company again.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
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Helen J Radford Poem
And then it stopped.
The jagged edge of anxiety smoothed
by the fall in slow motion -
A tumble into a pool of tranquility.
Suddenly awakened from the angst
by the splash of a refreshing reality;
reminding me that I need to
swim in peace for a while.
The pool is deep and calming.
It soothes the rawness of disquiet
and the cruelty of dispassion which
has dominated my recent existence.
Resistance melting in the serenity of
the rippling water, I float,
perfectly at peace and calmed by
the composure of the landscape.
It has stopped ………
and I can breathe at last.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2025
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Helen J Radford Poem
Today in my slower world
I watched a Golden-ringed Dragonfly
dancing in the garden: it rose and
Swooped, nearly touching my hair,
Then off again, teasing in its proximity.
In this new, dawdling world
Where time has become petrified,
I amble, maybe sit for a while,
And stop to watch dragonflies.
Breathing, imbibing my environment.
I feel the sun as it beats onto my face.
My pace is slower, more leisurely somehow.
Gratitude grows strongly, nurtured by
The water of experience, and unhurried
by the passage of time.
Now in the late summer of my life,
The leaves are slowly adopting an autumnal hue.
Edges tinged with amber, yet glorious
In their transformation. Marking the transportation
To fall with the splendor of maturity .
The Golden-ringed dragonfly dances still,
And I celebrate the ability to focus on this moment,
So precious and one of so many previously missed.
He swoops and lands briefly on an autumn leaf
Camouflaged but splendid in his magnificence.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2025
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Helen J Radford Poem
A knock at the door, who can it be?
Probably Sarah coming for tea.
She usually calls on her way
back from work to share some time with me.
A look in the mirror,
I 'tut' at my face:
Why do people always call
when there's junk around the place?
I open the door - a man is standing there.
I wish I'd worn some make up
I wish I'd done my hair.
It's then I spot the uniform:
the buttons made of brass;
the stripes that grace the khaki sleeves;
the boots that crunch amongst the leaves.
I question with my eyes?
It comes as no surprise to hear him ask
can he come in, and would I like to sit?'
He has some rather grievous news -
- I dread to hear it.
I know what he is going to say.
It's all a dream. Please go away.
I'm not in to truth today
I scream inside my head......
I know what he just said to me,
but I didn't hear a word.
His lips spoke out in silence, and me,
I never heard.
He's 'so sorry'. He gets up to go
and heads towards the door.
I try to rise to follow him
but my legs will move no more;
for they have turned to jelly and
my head is going to burst.
It's funny, when you're a soldier's wife,
you always fear the worst,
But it's only when you hear the knock,
the knock upon the door,
and see the face you've never seen:
the shining boots, the uniform;
the mouth that speaks the silent words
the apologies and platitudes;
'killed in action in the war"
The widow thoughts ring clear.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
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Helen J Radford Poem
You live in my heart.
Thoughts of you consume my mind.
I miss all you are.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2019
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Helen J Radford Poem
We fit now; we complete one another.
Our lives have melted into one
and we dissolve into the unity
which consolidates our synthesis.
We fit now; we complement one another.
Our differences unite us. Our individuality
only serves to combine our commonality;
our separateness compounds our pairing.
We fit now you and I. Sharing the same path;
Sometimes together, sometimes apart.
We deviate and divide, only to combine again
when occupational distraction is done.
We are comfortable and contented.
There is no division in description;
we are affiliated in partnership,
blended, amalgamated, in simpatico.
Our bodies merge in the conformity of belonging.
The longing dovetails our diversity and unites us.
We have emerged from the swirl of separation
as one and I love you. We fit now.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2010
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Helen J Radford Poem
F or each life lost a mother grieves
U ntil the last shot is fired she will never sleep.
T ears will fall as we count the cost.
I ll winds blow as the war goes on.
L ove must prevail for peace to win
I t must stay strong to make evil give in.
T ime ticks by with each life snuffed out.
Y et no lessons are learned as the enemies shout
O f rights and power,
F orce and might,
W illing the other to acknowledge they are right.
A lways remember that for each life lost
R emains a nation counting the cost.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2009
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Helen J Radford Poem
Deep inside there lies a secret.
It dwells in the crevices of solitude
and swims on the tide of fulfillment.
It peeps out in moments of stillness
and rubs its sleepy eyes waking from
fitful slumber, encumbered by its anonymity.
Tucked away from view while the search goes on
and on it goes, day and night, darkness and light,
it stays out of sight until the mayhem ceases.
The searcher sighs, and rubs his sleepy eyes
waking from the slumber of the banal;
the chase, the race that it has been for him.
Where can it be this elusive meaning to his life?
The love he longs for? God? The peace he dreams of
finding? The contentment and serenity?
He hardly hears it at first, but then it finds its voice;
his soul speaks from deep within; it tells him of a secret
and at last he stills himself long enough to listen.
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2010
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Helen J Radford Poem
'The Celtic understanding of friendship found its inspiration and culmination in
the sublime notion of 'anam cara'. 'Anam' is the Celtic word for soul; 'cara' is the
word for friend. So 'anam cara' means 'soul friend'. This anam cara was a
person to whom you could reveal the hidden intimacies of your life'
('Anam Cara - Spiritual Wisdom form the Celtic World' by John O'Donohue)
This was inspired by that .................
'The soul holds the echo of a primal intimacy.'
It is here that love resounds
and tolls with the bell of spiritual freedom.
Peels of perfection perforate imperfect reality.
It is here we can lie by the peaceful lapping
lake of contentment... side by side....
rocked by the rhythm of the soothing waters,
and lullaby-ed by the trill of paradise.
We can escape here - away from the harshness
of materialism, and the competition of success.
We can expose our intrinsic selves in safety,
and bathe in love and acceptance at no cost.
This inner world knows no bitterness.
No war or cruelties abide here.
Waves of beauty crash on its shore:
the threshold of infinity intimately tuned.
'May you recognise in your life the presence,
power and light of your soul.'
May you bask in its soothing sunshine,
and be refreshed by its cleansing showers.
Amen
Copyright © Helen J Radford | Year Posted 2008
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