Articles written by Rebecca Healy

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About me - Rebecca Healy

I am about to turn 29 years old and I live in Perth, Western Australia.

I am a mother of two little children.

I have always loved to write but it has always just been a personal hobby.

In a perfect world I would be a writer, but I am a happy mother and student

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Despair: 18 of 241

Hospital Silent corridors. Black and white photography which tells me what happened At 2.49am on a cold winters morning Nurses with strained smiles And trained patience Orderlies who are past caring carry out their jobs like clockwork Their minds elsewhere I feel so small in this Lonely corridor So tiny in the elevator My he...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Life's funny little quirks: 5 of 27

A Childish Conversation I'm a piranah, says the boy So am I says the girl I'm a white belly piranah, the most Dangerous of all says he Well I am a red backed one! She declares No way, he scoffs, there is no red backed one Well I am a yes no fish, the girl declares Yes no yes no yes no Or maybe I can be a hawk I'm bored says ...
Creative Writing > Reflections Reflections: Being the adult child of divorced parents: 5 of 24

My parents divorced when I was seven years old, so for years my sister and I endured the snide comments and derogatory remarks each made against the other after a far from amicable separation. Twenty years later I am beginning my own family and more now than at any other time I am considering the massive impact this environm...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Whole: 3 of 11

Love It came over me as I sat there, scared, humble and unsure It came to me like the rays of the sun,creeping across the floor, gently touching my face and giving me warmth. It came, out of nowhere, all my senses focussed here, on this one thought, this one feeling. On this love. Came and took me over, spreading from my hea...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Death of a loved one: 260 of 562

Christmas Card I bought you a Christmas card, I never sent it Your name was written on the envelope, there was no address. As always, I had a sense of you, as always I couldn't quite pin you down. I bought you a Christmas card and I didn't write much inside. It said how I loved you my friend, and it didn't say that at all. I...
Creative Writing > Memoirs Memoirs: Living with depression: 88 of 166

In attempting to work through the black fog that consumed me for years, the first ray of light came from realising that I had nothing to be ashamed of. The problem with being depressed is that it can't be seen by the average person, as a teenager I didn't look sick in class, as a child I didn't look desparate and lost to a p...
Creative Writing > Songs Songs: Being alone: 73 of 130

(Pitcher on a) Dusty Bar Pitcher on a dusty bar Five times emptied in the blink of an eye Wooden floor slants, so it appears To the model of a drunken man Sticky under foot a while On a journey to the porcelain shrine This is the walk, the longest of walks Cuts into drinking time Closing time comes and always too fast Follow...