Welcome to "Supportive" where I write words that I hope can help certain people deal with their everyday and to give them a little support, in writing, of course. A little bit of support can make all the difference to somebody who's struggling......


This poem came about after I started to write down my feelings, thoughts, or simply any positives or negatives from my day.
I supposed I realised that this was working for me so just maybe others could benefit from putting pen to paper, if only for a few minutes at the end of their day.
Once again the words that built this poem just started to flow and rhyme again so I just kept going.
I hope that some of you can take something from this, and start to try things out, and feel better about yourselves through the power of the pen and the mind.


Isn't it weird
When you realise
The notes that you take
to your brain from your eyes.

Pictures and faces
Numbers and lists
But what do you do
When your memory mists?

Frustration, anxiety
Brought on by the lack
Of the space in your brain
Your mind under attack.

From something unseen
All due to "that illness"
Blocking your thoughts
You have no fulfillness.

No longer, no more
Can't remember, or think
The stress of this now
You're beginning to sink

Into a lost space
Your psyche is strained
The "fog," your diagnosis
Your mind being drained.

Forgetfulness rife
Remembering dented
The scars of your previous
Thoroughly cemented.

Is this how it is?
How it's going to be?
I'm feeling as though
I'm no longer "ME".

Conversation is broken
When the words will not come
Can't string a sentence
Without feeling dumb.

Writing things down?
Maybe that's the best way
It's the remembering to write it
That gets in the way.

Apparently mindfulness
Is surely the key
To relieve this huge burden
Stopping me,..... being "ME".

"It's all work in progress"
I keep telling folk
It's just finding the words
From my mind that feels broke.

I can't change what's happened
Looking back down that track
Just find a way forward
To pull myself back.

Putting pen onto paper
Keeping things real
Concentration levels now
Are amazing to feel.

The words flow right from me
As a river, at its source
The lines come together
As a poem, of course.

This brings me much joy
And sadness also
As the memories involved
I'm willing to show.

Please never be frightened
Of letting it go
It helps with the balance
If some others know.

The details, of course
Are all up to you
Be they many, or little
It's your choice what to do.

Yet, writing's been around
many thousands of years
A way to communicate
Our hopes and our fears.

So, do what you will
An oyster, your world
Just open your mind
Your fingers unfurled.

Pick up that biro
A pencil, or quill
Let the writing begin
Let your mind fulfill.

Tell your story to many
Make up something fun
As long as you're writing
You'll never be done.

Words are so endless
Just link them together
Mindfulness now, it seems
Goes on forever.

Soon you'll be lifted
By what you achieve
This simple old pastime
Will make you believe.

That you're capable of greatness
Albeit in your own mind
But don't ever forget
To yourself, you're being kind.

You're now helping out
To fix your own issues
If you get this just right
They're going to need tissues.

As your words can touch minds
Their hearts and their souls
As this sense of wellbeing
Was one of your goals.

From what you are giving
For others to see
Has now helped you, inside
To break out and be free.

"live on, mum"

This poem I wrote for my Mum, Janice, who has been through a lot in the last few years.
The loss of her husband, my Dad, Wilf, back on 18th July 2004, when he was just 66 years old, from bladder cancer. This was just 3 months after he became a Grandad for the first time, after the birth of my daughter Piper in the April of that year.
Mum has never got over it, and I totally understand that in my heart.
My dad was my hero, simple as that, and an Army Veteran too.
Just before Covid struck in 2020, Mum had a cancer scare herself on her left forearm in the January. When I took her to Derriford Hospital, Plymouth they performed a CT scan, (after much pestering by myself and family) they found Cancer at stage 1a, luckily (if you can class that as lucky) and had to operate to remove the mole, which, in turn, had spread to the nodes in her elbow and also her left armpit. They also had to take a skin graft from the back of her thigh to cover where they had to operate on her forearm, which was an area of around 5" x 3".
A bad start to the year 2020, never mind what was to come shortly after..... COVID-19!!
Pushing Covid to one side, Mum had another huge and very serious event that was to take place in October of 2020.
She had a stroke!!
I called for the ambulance. I got there soon after the paramedics arrived.
They got her in the ambulance. The doors closed. This was during Covid. She was alone.
i went to live in her council flat for about 6 weeks, over Christmas and New Year after she was discharged from Hospital to the Stroke unit at Mount Gould Hospital, Plymouth.
For the first fortnight I got up and went to visit her every single day, standing outside her window and talking to her through a vent, in all weathers, mostly rain.
I did her washing, took her gifts and Eccles cakes, but most of all I was there to see her and to talk.
Those 2 weeks nearly broke me, as my mental health spiralled downwards, and I found I was out of control. I actually felt bad that I was struggling to support my own Mother when she needed me most. I was angry about what had happened, and it left me feeling so low I felt as though I had to ask my Mums permission to go to see her every other day, as I was struggling. You know what? She understood entirely, as obviously she knows about my issues.
I took my children, Piper and Kyle to see her too, to give her a lift, which it did, and they could see how much their Grandma had aged in such a short time. We could all see it.
After the 6 weeks in the Stroke unit we managed to get Mum into a temporary respite home for another 6 weeks nearer to my brother, just outside of Portsmouth, so that he and his wife could be there for her and in the meantime look for some supported living accommodation for Mum to rent. 
Finally they found a place, and it wasn't easy, but we moved her in, and she lives within a stones throw of the sea front in Southsea. She's been there 3 years now and just had her 83rd birthday last month in January 2024.
Mum, to this day is still struggling, after being such an energetic person who would walk for miles, or take herself out on the bus for a day trip. All that has now gone, and she has still not come to terms with what has happened.
This is why I chose to write "Live on, Mum" as I thought that if I did, I could frame it (which I did) and stick it on the wall in her flat (which I did), to support her and she can read it whenever she needs to.....

For my Mum, Janice McEvoy


When I was a child
You were always there
For me and my brother
You showed so much care

And as we grew up
You taught us how
To be honest and truthful
Just as we are now

To be clean and tidy
With good manners too
All of these traits
We learned from you

You always comforted
When needed the most
As when we got sick
It was "eat some dry toast"

Nursing our wounds
Our scratches and bumps
Putting the Savlon
On all of our lumps

As we grew into men
I left our home
To serve for my country
I felt all alone

I boarded that train
Was on my own way
To never return again
for a permanent stay

9 years 2 months later
Some medals I'd earned
The Falklands, the Gulf twice
My memory was burned

Unknown to me then
Yet deep in my core
To rise so much later
Leaving me on the floor

This illness inside me
Brought right to the fore
When life became tougher
I walked out the door

Into a wilderness
Many years after
Never letting on
No more of my laughter

That used to be part of me
Was there no more
I kept all the bad from you
To protect you I'm sure

Yet, i see you struggle
After Dad left this earth
You seem troubled much more
Feeling no self worth

It was all a massive impact
On all our existence
When the love of your life
Couldn't quite make the distance

I just see you stressing
Over the silliest of things
Get upset over nothing
The sadness, it brings

To see you suffering
When you really need not
You cannot do anything
When control, you have not

So please, take a breath Mum
Just think for a second
To see you like this
What would Dad have reckoned?

When he looks down on you
And sees you so sad
When I'm sure all that he wants for you
Is for you to be glad

I'm trying to deal with
My demons and stress
Depression, anxiety
Sometimes it feels less

I just wish you would listen
Speak up, and take aid
Have counselling, talk it out
Please, don't be afraid

It CAN make a difference
So consider it, please
The last thing I want
Is to see you on your knees

You owe it to YOU
Nobody will judge
Swallow your pride
Please, don't bear a grudge

I'm sure that my dad
Would think the same way
We'll never stop loving you
Won't ever turn away

Your grandchildren need you
They love you so much
They too, worry for you
As they feel out of touch

I'm sure that everyone
Would agree with me here
That you shouldn't worry
Or have any fear

To live your life freely
The best way you can
Enjoy your time honestly
And not give a damn

Move on, go, "Live on" Mum
It's what you deserve
And I know without doubt
Dad's memory you'll preserve

Just want you to be happy
And never be sad
Your love will never falter
For the man who was my Dad. X

R.I.P. Dad XXX

"Painting by numbers"

This poem came together after a thought I had, when I was trying to find another way for describing what rebuilding and recovering felt like in a day to day, week by week, month after month scenario.
I was attempting to describe it, simplify it in a way, so that people could understand what it is like for me. Just possibly, again, others might resonate with how I put it, and get where I'm coming from.


So tired, I'm finding it hard to stay awake as I write this.
I have no control of myself, my life, my existence is amiss.

Need to pull it together, find a way to make this better.
Easier said than done, when in your head there's nothing but writing letter after letter.

I've said it before, writing it down really does help, so much.
But you need to have a plan to stick to, a kind of virtual crutch.

I can't even think straight at the moment, and I've only got myself to blame.
I'm not "stepping up" nor "stepping out", I'm not even in the game.

Just wanna lay down, close my eyes, rest up, push out some zee's.
Take my mind away to a dreamland, where I'm never down on my knees.

Where I can feel no pressure from the state of my reality.
Just act out, pretend, dream, if you will, not worry about my mentality.

Problem is, you eventually wake up from your slumbers.
that's when all becomes real, and life is simply "painting by numbers".

Where you sit and fill in the colours, to make the picture come to life.
Problem is, you don't have all the paints, so you end up, again, with strife.

Reality bites, no dreams are going to help you here.
The colours you need to finish the picture, are inside of you, it's clear.

Get it together, think it out, take all the time that you need.
To find a way to love yourself, so you can ultimately, be freed.

"SELF" first, others will follow, but you look after "YOU"
Your life depends on decisions made, and the actions "YOU" follow through.

Let it grow just like a seed, all the way to becoming a flower.
Because "YOU", my friend, are the only one, who owns the right to this power.