Watching the series Shameless (not the original British version but the American) is like riding an emotional roller coaster. You feel pity, anger, sadness, surprise, joy and mostly there are times you face your own demons. Whatever those challenges you have gone through, be it being manipulated by narcissists or charming addictive personalities…the list is long and each viewer may be experiencing something different. However, outrageous as it may be it is raw and real. Dealing with poverty, questioning sexual orientation, puberty, first love and so much more, viewers will not be bored. There will be times you will hate the father, Frank and yet what would the show be without him. He is conniving and a bit too smart which adds to his manipulative nature.
using and dealing
living life
unknown tomorrows
using and dealing
drugs, alcohol and money
comes and goes
living life
recovering from battle
one day at a time
unknown tomorrows
only rewards
lost memories
Watching Season 7, Episode 11 brings stabs at my heart rekindling that feeling Fiona has, as she leaves a special person in assisted living.
reading her face
lines of confusion
I’m wretched with guilt
reading her face
looking at me one last time
taking her last breath
No matter which season or episode you watch, you learn something as long as viewers get off their high horse or get their stick out of their ‘bleep’.
(c) Tournesol 18/10/05
What do you do when you are finished the series? Watch the original British version of Shameless on Netflix of course if you have not already.
She sits in her armchair, her feline friend loyally by her side on her comfy bench. A time to think of life past and present not knowing what the future will bring. One lives a life filled with hope as a child, moments of despair as a teen filled with hope and fairy tales, somewhat like a garden. And then becomes an adult and reality settles in…
Adulthood brings puzzlement and how many seeds to plant and how to remove the weeds. Mistakes and suffering only bring more valuable life lessons.
Middle age seeks passion and discernment, finding a bigger terrain that will house the most thriving and nourishing garden. If one is fortunate, they will be rewarded with their dream garden filling all their needs especially that of compassion in helping new seedlings to flourish into beautiful flora despite broken stems or torn leaves.
Such a rich terrain makes room for a harvest filled with her first love since she was a child, to continue nurturing and healing the wounded and broken petals. Discovering such grounds has become her reward and blessing… the end of that road leading to her own fairy tale.
Another phase in the life cycle…one no longer calls the 60’s old age because women and men are usually more active and needed in appreciated in society especially for their hard-earned wisdom. They work well into their 80’s and so she is pleased to continue, still breathing the passion for such toils.
Time passes and she struggles to find the time and energy to tend to young seedlings and perennials overcome with intruders. Such nuisances we call weeds are the consequences of new tillage governed by those who do not understand the true meaning of tending to the heart of a garden, taking time to weed out the bad with care, gently and not intrusive.
Alas, this seasoned gardener is overcome with such changes and unhealthy rules; she strives to tend as best she can…loving every seedling and plant in her tillage that has become her life’s passion. She continues to feel a weight of conflicting rules, she also feels defeated at times and knows not how long her garden will continue to flourish. For now, she perseveres and follows her heart despite the bloody weeds and interference, but for how long before the flowers are overwhelmed by weeds?
tilling the soil
overcome with weeds
twilight enters
tilling the soil
remembering better times
room to grow
overcome with weeds
on her knees praying
for a miracle
twilight enters
clouds hiding harvest moon
seedlings cry in wait
when will the darkness cease
day after day
night after night
light hovers behind rain clouds
trying to rescue her
looking for relief
she reads fiction
but
the darker kind
thrillers and killers
of demented minds
still
it’s an escape
her reality is boring
drab, greyish taupe
like the colour of mud
when will the darkness cease
day after day
night after night
light hovers behind rain clouds
trying to rescue her
music tends to rise her spirits
lyrics may not always
bringing her to a darker place
long ago
perhaps unfinished business
ghosts from her past
haunting her day and night
taunting her to give up
her humble abode breathes memories
dead and alive, people who matter
exhaling
in contradictory salutations
leaving her more confused
riled with shame and blame
fills her soul with guilt
when will the darkness cease
day after day
night after night
light hovers behind rain clouds
trying to rescue her
it all started months ago
her body let her down
joint after joint
abandoning her
leaving her vulnerable
robbing her of so much joy
walking feebly with a cane
worried for another fall,
a sprain, a tear
that heals so slowly
when will the darkness cease
day after day
night after night
light hovers behind rain clouds
trying to rescue her
mind and body
work in tandem
whispering mockingly
awaiting her decline
when did it become
them and me?
when did they become her enemy?
the mind plays tricks
distorted reality
tries to fill her mind
such energy it takes
pushing it away
blocking every crevice of her soul.
They will not win!
she is too smart
and loves life
way too much to give in
she will wait, give it time
her body needs to heal
her soul needs to recuperate
patience is her weapon
compassion and self-love
her antibiotic
when will the darkness cease
day after day
night after night
light hovers behind rain clouds
trying to rescue her
she will use the power of imagery
feel the sun warm her soul
make her mind and body whole.
She loves this time of year. Flowers are in bloom overflowing in gardens. Four more weeks admiring the golds, lavender and magenta before leaves start their own autumn performance.
overgrown gardens
hanging on
until death befalls
overgrown gardens
boasting
with beauty
hanging on
caterpillar on a twig
transforms with wings
until death befalls
petals form an undercoat
autumn leaves