Life in degrees is a personal poetry and occasional short story blog .
Life is seen in many different ways or degrees and with the help of poetry, stories, music and art we may view it from many perspectives.
Poetry is medication for the soul

All contributions and comments will be welcomed Kez

All material on this site is copyright so please ask for permission for use.

Life In degrees ,Poetry and Stories for a different slant on Life

Below Are some Links Of other sites you may be interested in. ( more to be added )

Thursday, 29 September 2011

A Fairy Is Born

Blow the bubbles, 
And look carefully 
Can you see 
The delicate wing of a little fairy ?

For every time a bubble is created 
The mummy fairies giggle,all excited 
Cos they have waited and waited, 
For the magical soapy bubbles to be sighted !

Look at the bubbles can't you see 
ImageThe birthing of a tiny fairy 
      The rainbow colours dancing in the light 
Are the tiny wings of a little sprite!

So blowing bubbles isn't just for fun 
It's the start of a fairies life 
 That's only just begun 
So blow your bubbles and you will see 
The tiny delicate wings, 

Of a brand new fairy! 

Submitted to Bluebell Books  Story Slam 

Wednesday, 28 September 2011

A Magical Mystery Tour

A Magical Mystery Tour 

A magical mirage lives inside my head 
A place serene,green a proper homestead,
A babbling brook saunters along. 
Running over rocks creating  it's song ,
The air oozes freshness and perfume 
from blossoms so sweet, 
Where song birds sing their melodies 
tweet tweet tweet

A magical mirage lives inside my head 
A house so perfect not fashion led, 
A picket fence surrounds the lawn, 
Where the sun rises at the crack of dawn 
Puppies leap and the chickens cluck, 
Butterflies flutter and run amock to the rap 
cluck cluck cluck.

A magical mirage lives inside my head 
A comforting ,soft, protective, huge bed, 
Velvets and silks adorn our room, 
Love and serenity the only things that loom
Where you and I lovingly embrace, 
Under a mystical moon as we lie face to face, 
Hearts together in sync beating, 
boom boom boom 

This magical mystery tour you have taken 
Is in my head don't be mistaken, 
For if there was a heaven on earth,
For me to live there, would be my rebirth,
And if this wish was ever granted, 
 This is what would be forever chanted 
I should be so lucky, 
lucky, lucky, lucky . 

Submitted to :  IN TANDEM where art and pictures are used as the prompts check it out for more interpretations of this piece of Art 

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

I Don't Like Mondays

I Don't Like Mondays 
 On one side of a our globe 
A baby stirs, yawns, 
Safe from every tiny microbe, 
The sun rises, Monday dawns 
On green mowed and tended lawns. 

The other side of our globe
A child stirs, stomach aching, 
Attacked by every tiny microbe, 
The sun rises, Monday's baking
On children hunger fuelled awakenings.

Mondays may fill us with dread, 
With the whole working week looming ahead, 
So take heed and keep in your mind, 
The life of a child across the world, 
Not just Monday, But a daily grind 
Their struggle to remain alive
 Survive !

Take action

Submitted to dVerse Poets Pub where great poems await ready to share ! 

Regretfully Yours !

Regretfully Yours !

Dark, deep regret, 
Who does it beget? 
Just me and you 
We've found one another, 
Forsaken all others 
so hell yeah !
Explore my history 
But no regrets 
Let them remain a mystery!

It pointless to rake over the past, 
Regrets are lessons that last
They've shape my being  
It's me your seeing 
so hell yeah !
Explore my history, 
But no regrets, 
Allow that mystery. 

Regrets no longer, 
For everything we do now, 
Together, cements us stronger, 
Truth now is our sacred cow 
so hell yeah! 
We'll share our mysteries 
No regrets 
We'll  rewrite our new history. 


  Heart gently captured,
Love grown ,nurtured
Contact flesh to flesh,
Voices lively and fresh,
Physically alive,
   Thoughts allowed to thrive,
Escape not an option !

Honey moon finished
Love diluted, diminished,
Contact sporadic,
Voices but only periodic,
Physically dying,
Mentally inside crying,
Escape not an option !

Relationship illiterate,
Self esteems obliterated,
Contact only bone to bone,
Voices screaming in angry tones,
Physically battered,
Thoughts, mentally splattered
Escape not an option!

The final straw broken,
Bruises the only token,
Contact not an option,
Less talk, more action
Physically drained ,
Only one thought now ingrained,
Escape is the only option! 

The Source 1862 By Gustave Courbet

This is an entry for the Mookychick blogging competition, FEMINIST FLASH FICTION 2011.  Enter Now

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

A Fairy Tale (Childs Lit )

A Fairy Tale 
Margaret Bednar

Marshmallow clouds in a vanilla sky 
Surround a sugar castle
The colour of cherry pie 
At it's door there stands proud, 
Unicorns who have vowed 
To protect the fairies
Who come to play 
With the buzzing bees
That dance and buzz all day. 

Within the pink sugar castle. 
A princess excitedly awaits 
Her prince charming 
To arrive for their dinner date 
Where  penguins on skates 
Serve their meal off ice crystal plates
The skinny little crickets will play their wings 
Making summer music 
While love birds chirp along and sing.

Prince charming will kneel 
Take his Princess by her delicate hand, 
He'll ask her then to be Queen in this wonderful fairy land 
The buzzing bees and fairies will dance 
While those magical unicorns will daintily prance 
In the garden of their sugar candy castle 
Found in the fluffy marshmallow clouds
Where only very, very, happy fairy tales are allowed !

Submitted to In Tandem
For more Fab Fairy Tales check out Life is Yipees!!!!!

Monday, 19 September 2011

Bridging The Gap

I have always been fascinated by Bridges and think this one is particularly beautiful I found these pictures which have been painted as a mural at Harvey Nichols in Bristol .

Bridging The Gap 

close-up of bridge
Mural situated in Harvey Nichols Bristol 

There in all your majesty, steel and cables 
Surveying lives and history
People crossed over, 
They communicated and bartered,
Underneath cargo passed in ships 
In full sail, sometimes chartered
Bridging areas yet uncharted. 

Built  for domestic economy,
Giving  Bristol more autonomy,
In times when ships carried wines and slaves. 
They bridged the enclaves and gorge 
With cables and steel, which they had forged, 
Bridging societies and economy .

Your  beauty and  majestic splendour 
Now forever ours ,to admire and devour, 
Your cables stretched and strained 
Between those two sturdy towers 
When things were constructed for industry
Bridging the gap from history.

Above now hot air balloons 
Seasonally float by like sky flowers
People still admire the engineering feat
Art, society, history all converge and meet
Bridging the gaps seems now complete !

original illustration

 More : INFO for Clifton Suspension Bridge
Submitted to :Gooseberry Goes Poetic whose theme was object 

Saturday, 17 September 2011

Train of Thought

Train Of Thought 
Overcrowded Train 

Chit,.. chat,.. chit... chat. 
Wheels of life moving, 
Staying on track 
Chit ,chat, chit ,chat.  

Chug chug chugging, 
Tracks of society, 
Over rule natures priority 
Chug chug chugging

Ra di Boom Ra di Boom
Humanity coming of  the rails, 
Morality sinking, filling up jails 
Ra di Boom Ra di Boom 

Ding ding ding a dong 
Journey almost ended 
Natures poorly tended 
Ding ding ding a dong 

Screech screech halt, 
Devastation is our fault
Reverse the trend, 
Or its journeys end 
Screech .......screech...... HALT !

 Submitted for : dVerse Poetics  where poets share their creativity plenty more to explore 

Friday, 16 September 2011

Cheese (Childs Lit )

Just say cheese
Please Oh Please 
A cheesy grin 
It's not a sin 
To make a smile 
It's not a trial 
just wait for the flash 
then you can dash 
of to play 
for the rest of the day 
just say cheese please 
all mummies and daddies 
will make this plea 
Just say Cheese...... pleaseeeeee !!!!

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Space Cleaner

Space Cleaner 
Belgium Street Art 

Is it gonna take a space warrior ? 
To clean up our bricked corridors 
To rid society of all its spills, 
Of  media garbage,and governments bitter pills,
Of societies that consume and consumes. 
Turning our world into a ineffective sickroom .

Is it going to take Darth Vadar ,
To take the bugs from our mental radars, 
Should we be left without any immunity ?
Cleanse society, but destroy humanity, 
We'll have to take control of the filter, 
 The world then will remain on kilter.

Submitted to : dVersepoets  for Open link night in the Poets Pub 

Monday, 12 September 2011

Grandads Knee

Grandads Knee

My granddaddy always said to me 
You wait until your thirty three 
You'll have some little'uns of your own
Your little princess or prince will sit upon this throne, 
This throne that's reserved just for you
Till childhood fairyland bids adieu.                                                      

So upon his knee I'd clumsily scramble,
Listening to his stories and rambles, 
His stories were off  far of lands, 
Of fairy queens, her kingdom and commands, 
The only wish he had for me 
Was I be as happy as happy as I could be.

On his throne that was his knee,
My childhood was like a fantasy, 
No seat ever has replaced that spot
That I'd climb upon as a tiny, tiny, tot 
Perhaps if grandaddies knees  were the law 
I'd still see my fantasy lands of wonder and awe 


 Submitted to : Jingle Poetry

Sunday, 11 September 2011

Tis The Season To Decorate

Tis The Season to Decorate 

Decorate the world, 
with russet leaves 
that swirl in a colder breeze, 
Jump in a mound of crispy vegetation 
that carpets our nation. 

Decorate the night, 
crisp, cold, starry, ones 
 and burning, woody fires, 
Huddle round its flames, 
See in your mind eye what transpires 

Decor is all around 
Colours all to be found 
In our autumnal spell,
before our winter 
and the peek of the first bluebell. 

Submitted to :In Tandem whose picture was the prompt 

Zen Fountains

In memory of all victims of 9/11 and for those who have lost their lives since trying to protect our freedom 

Zen Fountains 

Concrete mountains.
replaced by fountains
Soothing Zen like trickling noise
Unable to drown out memories
Of terrorist attacks from other countries  

Concrete mountains,
Replaced by fountains
Unable to ease away the pain
Felt by relative of victims
Whose lives were erased by planes.

Concrete mountains
Replaced by fountains
Soothing Zen like noise
Wars still rage in this age,
Lives still lost by Soilder boys.

Concrete mountains still remain,
Are zen like fountains all in vain ?

 Submitted to :Dverse Poets Poetics  for the theme of  In Memoriam

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Silence Is Golden

Silence Is Golden
Charlie Chaplin In The Kid

In times of Old
Movies were entertainment gold,
No sound or special effects
Filmed only in a two
Dimensional aspect.

In black and white
Life was only wrong or right
No grey or in between
What you got,
Is what could be seen.

No politically correct rules
Actors could play the fool
With waifs and strays
No interfering busy bodies,
 To allay

Those old silent movies,
Still have a hold on us, that is kind of groovy.
The actors have become iconic,
The  movies minus vocals,
Subtle, yet ironic.

Actions still speak louder than words ! 

Submitted to dVerse Poets Poetics On the theme of Silent Films

Friday, 2 September 2011

The Lament

The Lament 
A very short story
Art at

Each night she stood reminiscing that final farewell,in her memory the mighty ship stole away her beau. Beneath her,course grains scratched at the soles of her feet yet in her mind tortured thoughts of all those 'what ifs' rattled constantly in her head, As the ship had sailed away she swore she saw angels perched upon the mast, this reassured her their love would forever last, and it had, it was an everlasting love that would last longer than she .She caressed the soft mound forming under the dress she had made for the day of their church union, but he had left his seed within her and though they were parted they would meet again in heaven till then she would nurture and love there child away from the sea, away from the lure of her lovers last mistress and with this thought she threw her bouquet to her watery rival and never again looked back . 

Submitted to Gooseberry Garden
Submitted to Bluebell Short  Story Slam wk 9

Dreams For Sale

Dreams for Sale 

If dreams were sold, 
What stories would be told ? 
A bedraggled street urchin 
Dining at the Ritz for Luncheon?

If dreams were sold, 
What transgressions could unfold ?
A remedy to untruths and lies,
Even truth in politics made to apply !

If dreams could be sold 
What could we do with unlimited gold ?
Destroy our moral being, 
See all of humanity fleeing ! 

If dreams could be sold, 
What would happen to all the old ? 
Driven to maintain our looks and youth,
Or would indifference become our truth ? 

If I could buy a dream,
It would be to mend humanities seams,
Let all suffering and fighting cease, 
Bring about moral and spiritual peace. 

Dreams should be our reality 
When it comes to societies humanity. 
Freedom and peace should be a given!
Until this end we as a race should all be driven!  

Freedom, Peace and good health, 
Should not depend on monetary wealth
The whole mixture of mankind 
Should ensure this elixir is assigned 
To The World !

This photograph was taken by Amy Shepherd In Southville Bristol UK the artist though is unknown