What is Dyspraxia-Apraxia

The Dyspraxia Foundation describes developmental dyspraxia as "an impairment or immaturity of the organisation of movement. It is an immaturity of the way the brain processes infor...

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Saturday November 28, 2009

Poem/Artistic Stories

  • Tendrils

    Monday, August 31, 2009 | A Poem/Artistic story

    The fine tendrils taut, tearing at open wounds
    Dangling, threads frayed and moods staid
    The vines wind, like a python squashing the life,
    The love and hope out of the moment
    The network strands like crossed wires, over
    And over again, forming a frame of miscommunication
    Agony and despair, watch as new lines storm the body
    Tearing at the lungs and the heart, taking the life
    From what was left, a lump of ...







    1 Recommendation

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  • The Mirror

    Wednesday, September 2, 2009 | A Poem/Artistic story

    A sharp corner shatters the still silence
    The surface trembles and jerks
    Falling away, out from shock
    The tears loosen the glue
    All falling down - open to view
    The masked morsel of identity revealed
    Reviled but held accountable, there
    For those to see – the truth of what is
    Or shall be, of who and what – the why
    Or how
    The cluttered remains of hidden identities,
    Silver slivers shine solemnly, gl...










    1 Recommendation

  • Fucked up Dough

    Wednesday, September 9, 2009 | A Poem/Artistic story

    Pushing my fingers into the bowl
    Kneading the thick dough
    The pulsing ingredients emanate negativity
    Angry throes painfully squash the diminutive plasticine
    The yellow moulds rise, a miniature vacuum leaving nothing
    Nothing, but empty space
    The miniature loaf, a morsel of misery
    Moulded in moments, the vessel of delivery
    Empty and free, the beatings relinquish suffering
    Moving the form about the bowl, th...








    1 Recommendation

  • Broken Urn

    Wednesday, September 9, 2009 | A Poem/Artistic story

    Your fingers gently wrap around the searing edges
    The gaps opening in the once whole urn
    Looking in on life and love, hoping it was your turn
    But it fractured, smashed by wayward hands
    And feet, watched over always – from a distance
    Watched and occasionally polished
    Now it’s broken – beyond repair
    And no glue can fix these holes
    These cracked edges, the faded paint
    The lost resemblance t...








    1 Recommendation


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