Anywhere you go.

I’ll follow you into the grey, my love;
To touch those satin lips.
I’ll bear witness to the flashes of light,
And listen to the roaring,
To find a heart that beats like mine,
Under a lilac-tinted cloud.

I’ll follow you into the blue, my love;
To hold those silk eyes.
I’ll give up my earthly obsessions,
And offer my voice,
To find a soul that speaks to mine,
Within a warm spring stream.

I’ll follow you into the yellow, my love;
To breathe in your roses.
I’ll display my heart on a podium,
And wet it with my tears,
To find a smile that returns mine,
Within a cold, bitter breeze.

I’ll follow you into the black, my love;
To lie beside your body.
I’ll trade my life of happy sin,
And tie it with a bow,
To find a love that holds me,
Until eternity lets go.

By Maégan Jane Boyle
27th June 2019

Whispers

I wake,
To find myself broken.
Uneven, split between
Dark lines.

I face the light,
The day’s new dawn.
Came again,
And again.

I would fret
For the dawns last rhyme.
That golden light
Behind the satin,
Would it remain raven.

I hold within me,
A rhythmic beat
That calls itself my life.
A song.

One I’ve heard,
But not one I listen to
Unless
It’s rattled.

Yet hope;
still shimmers.
Like the tiniest
mirror.

A reflection of me,
True me.
Behind an overshadow.
Looming,
I’ll weave it a carpet.

Then lay this soul,
To rest.
A little while, you must
Repair yourself.

Hold close the echo,
To your lips
Shall keep it tender.
This is your elevation.

By Maégan Boyle
15th April 2019

A Fine Art.

Winter’s come, and taken everything.

I cut the cake, to find it bleeding.

Sweet lustre, tempting reverie;

A tasteless memory.

I divine a remedy,

I pray for release.

The issue is inside,

Turmoil aside,

And I must oblige.

It’s a quiet kind of heavy,

That sits; so smiley.

Where has it gone?

Sweet frosting, so delicate.

Mentality; it’s intimate,

And as bad as the climate.

Mortality, morality –

Stir to combine.

Blurred into a mixture,

I read the literature,

I see the fine line…

And I hope it will rise.

10/12/18

– By Maegan Boyle

Exhaustion Sets

Exhaustion

Sets in like it’s staying.

A sleepover

I didn’t agree to.

Unpack, unravel, set up,

Sit down.

I watch it unfold.

Blindfolded.

Whispers of worry,

Self-hate,

Is this a debate?

It’s a little broken.

What is this token?

Winter is here,

And I can’t

Hibernate,

Or recreate.

I’m stuck,

Black mud.

Is this my life?

Expect

Unexpected.

Rivalry of words,

Made swords of my pens,

Stabbing at pages

A4 flesh.

Self-torturous.

I fall,

Rainbows of bruises,

Not on my surface.

Undercover sleepover?

Fight within the secrets

Of how you fear

For your future.

Tired of these lies

We keep

Telling ourselves,

That we tell

Each other.

We’re not alone.

Inside

It’s just me.

A One

Woman

Sleepover.

I ache

To wake.

To see the light

I know is there.

Somewhere.

Close by?

Most likely.

But out of reach,

And sight.

But not of mind.

When can I take off

This blindfold?

It’s not too late.

It’s not too late.

It’s never

Too late.

 

– By Maégan Jane Boyle, 28/10/2018

Tempest

The mighty rumble,

And a flash of light – not from my torch,

As I search the ground that night.

I look, but I wonder if I’ll find.

 

Some are vibrant; alive with electricity,

Then appears a dome of coral – not from my sun,

As I tread from the fired wood laurel.

I move, but I wonder if I’m forward.

 

The fork; it pierces, and the cloud bursts open.

Rain, like a cloak upon me, and my earth,

Tries to flatten the scarlet bowl,

And I wonder if we’re in danger now.

 

Some are dark; a monochrome picture delight.

The flash flashes – not from my camera,

As I peer through my eyelashes.

I click, but I wonder if I’ll capture.

 

The intense roar,

And a spark of fluorescence – not from my city,

As I cry out for my friend.

I shout, but I wonder if I’m heard.

 

And through the under bush,

I see the eyes glinting back at me;

Brighter than any flare of light.

I smile, because we’ll drink from teacups tonight.

 

By Maégan Boyle
21st June 2018

NOTE: Picture is of my gorgeous boy, Zeus, on the beach in Prestonpans, Scotland, earlier this month.

The Magick Word… or should that be ‘World’?

It’s been 11 months since my last update in regards to my novel, here on my WordPress blog.

Admittedly, comparative to how far I thought I would have come in that time to how far I’ve actually come is… well, disappointing.

Too many have long since given up asking me about when it’s going to be finished, and I don’t really blame them. It gets old quick having to give the same response; ‘still editing, but progress is progress’.

And yeah, progress is progress. I can’t get hung up on how little that may or may not be, because at the end of the day, I have health issues that makes it near impossible to have much of a timetable or daily structure. I have to focus on my health first and foremost, but I can assure you, my novel comes err… joint second. (Family life, y’know?)

Speaking of which, you may have noticed not one but TWO Border Collies in the featured image. On 28th March we welcomed a new member to our family. Say ‘Hi’ to Apollo!
He’s now 7 month’s old. He’s sweet, a little bit crazy, and quite the handful in the beginning of his energetic adolescence! Zeus is doing fantastically in teaching him the basics, socialising him, giving him a whole lotta confidence, and helping me use up some of that puppy energy. So I’m pleased to say he’s adjusted to us very well, and quite quickly!

… Back to the book update.

If I were to give you an estimate, I would say I’m 3/4 of the way there. I really am nearly finished, I just can’t tell you precisely when that pivotal (and long anticipated?) moment will be. All I can really say, though, is it’ll be finished this year.

Right now I’m stuck on working the ins and outs of my magick system, which – if you didn’t know – is ridiculously difficult and exhausting work. I’ve already created a system of laws (societal and physical) which I’m happy with, it’s just a matter of figuring out the schools of magick, which type can do what, the limitations of that school, any branches (or not) in said school, and how many schools of magick can be learnt by a single person… and probably other things I can’t currently think of.

I have a rough idea of what I want, and although I probably don’t need all of this set in stone until in later books, I personally want a solid foundation of something that drives my story.

After that, I need to finish up some of the main lore behind my novel. I can’t even begin to tell you how much lore I need to create for the entire series, but lets just focus on a bit at a time, yeah? Haha.

So as I finish up the last 1/4 of the book, I’ll be working on the magick system and lore on the side…

Also, in the last 11 months, there have been three new story ideas put in my “others” folder, making a total of 45 other novels to write, majority of which are a series. Sigh.

Let’s finish tackling this novel first, I think.

Best wishes.

 
What is the magick word, anyway? Did I even say?…

Also, err, word count total currently sits at around 109,000.

Unrest

Just finished watching the film Unrest on Netflix… I wish everyone would watch this, if only to see what life has been and is like behind closed doors – from those who suffer M.E. to those who care for the sufferers.

It is a cruel, dark, painful, lonely, and tiring journey for everyone.

I have been told it’s all in my head. I have been told it’s growing pains. I have been told someone else is making me sick. I have went through painful physio- and hydro-therapy sessions time after time. I have had numerous mental health assessments. I have had blood work done many times; an MRI on my brain; CT scans on my body. I have been pushed and pulled, and humiliated, and I have been called a liar.

I have been a 7 year old girl, in agony at school, alone on a cold metal bench, watching other kids play, and asking God if I was going to die, and asking what I did to deserve it.

I have been an 11 year old girl wanting to be free of pain, dizziness, migraines, light and sound sensitivities, mental fatigue, slurring, exhaustion, unrestful sleep for so many years… Just wanting to do things I should have been able to do.

I have been a 13 year old girl struggling to make it to school, bound in a wheelchair, and feeling so alone.

I have been a 15 year old girl mostly house-bound, finally diagnosed with severe M.E./CFS and CPS by a specialist in a specialist clinic, having them tell me they were so surprised I’d managed all this time with so little help… Asking me to speak in meetings to the other patients to help them, but having to refuse because I was too ill.

I have been a 16 year old girl too tired to fight, self-hating and self-harming. Wondering why very few believed me despite a diagnosis – wondering why anyone would think I would make this choice to limit my life.

I have been a 17 year old teen, realising that even those closest to you can be blind to your suffering.

I have been an 19 year old young adult, trying to come to terms that no one has a cure, and no one is coming to offer more help. That this is what life will be like for me. Trying to work through the anger and the grief to accept what I’ve lost, and what I won’t experience.

Here I am, 26 years old in 10 days time. Grateful for what I have, and for those who support me. I have learnt to dismiss the non-believers, and focus on what I can do.
I am an OU graduate with a 2:1 honours degree, determined to do a Masters.
I am a writer, editing my current novel that I will publish, and many more novels to write.
I have ambition.
I have patience.
I have imagination.
I have determination
I have strength.
I have compassion…

I also have M.E.

 

 

https://www.unrest.film/