Categories
Life

Creativity Rises

I intend to write one thing and another is born.

Creativity rises.

It controls me, not the other way around.

The poem I’ve just written began with a feeling of being stuck. Stuck in COVID lockdown. Stuck in a middle ground of dried up creativity.

So I sat down. I opened my computer. And I saw a cupboard on the blank screen of my mind.

I was in there.

In a dark cupboard, looking out at something…a little brighter.

The story began from there.

But it wasn’t the story I’d expected. It was something different, not at all what I’d originally planned.

Isn’t

creativity

amazing?

It drives.

I am just here.

Allowing it to be what it chooses.

Photo by kira schwarz on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Wherever I May Go

Life and her currents.

I feel them like tears in my bones.

And all I can do is let the river run,

let the stream carry me

wherever I may go.

Through the high clouds of white.

Through the deep dungeons, dark.

I will be there.

Life,

I will be there

to follow the rainbow, home.

Photo by Monica Turlui on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Searching

How deep is the sea that clutches

and drags me to the muddy floor, within?

How many days will I tumble

into the swell of inner life

unspoken, unwanted, unkind?

Shall I stand here, now,

battered and smiling, beside this beautiful life?

Still searching.

Still searching.

Always searching, but for the fleeting days

of clarity,

of home neat and tidy.

The creative knife;

sharp, yet desperately beautiful in shine.

Still searching.

Always, still searching.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Some Days I Fall

Some days I fall. I’m not a good mum. I’m not a good human. I’m not a good me, on those days I fall.

It’s not a consolation to know that I do not fall alone. That humanity itself is in constant fluctuation, that some days we rise and some days we fall. I’ve fallen. Me. The writer of these words, the feeler of these aches. On those days I wish for more, I also wish for peace. The two do not go hand in hand.

But it’s not as easy as finding peace and being happy with that. Without this beautiful depth—without this wild and wistful wind that moves me—there would be no passion to whoosh me along the creative river of life, the river I know and love so well.

Is it about lowering the expectations I have of myself? Or is it about lowering my expectations of life? What, I wonder, would help me to feel at peace in a world that so often clips my wings.

I was given wings to fly.

I long to use them.

Is this me, using them? Right in this moment, is this the way I was meant to fly? To write about love and loss and sorrow and sacrifice? About life at its best and life at its worst and how, at some level, it’s all the same thing, anyway?

What is it all for?

And when will I stop asking: what is it all for?

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Categories
Poetry

Unlimited

I feel the way I feel

because I feel the way I feel.

Because I am soft

and gentle,

because I am wild as the rain

and free as the sky.

But I am not free,

not really,

not in this world.

And that is surely

a tragic day

for the aspect of me

who knows she is unlimited.

Categories
Poetry

Emerald Sweet

I breathe

but I can’t feel you.

I soften but creation does not flow.

Am I stuck?

Or do I just think

I am stuck

because I am not flying

through raw wisps of forestland?

It is my choice to be there,

drifting in the emerald sweet.

Where I am meant to be.

Where I will always be in my mind.

And my heart.

Categories
Life

The Soft Girl Snooze

I like to pop in every day, if I can. Often there are days that I miss, and today was going to be one of them. I’m just a bit tired, today. The only me I have available to give is a little ‘hello, I hope you’re all doing okay.’

It frustrates me when the Soft Girl is out of action (for those of my bloggy family who are new, the Soft Girl is what I call my intuition/connection to self/connection to my creativity).

That beautiful wind feels ridiculously lovely as it moves through me, and the results of the Soft Girl’s blissful energy in motion are often just as lovely. So I’m missing her, today. She’s having a little snooze, and that’s okay. ☺️

Anyway, so much love bloggy friends. Hopefully I’ll be back with a little more in the tank, tomorrow. xx

Categories
Poetry

Fly Away

Falling from the sky

she sings,

‘One day I’ll fly away’.

Knowing she’ll always be falling.

Knowing she’ll always be

longing

to fly

away.

Categories
Life

Rainbow

Is this a rainbow I see

reaching through the collective heart

of the dreamers?

Wide eyes open, lovely dreamers.

You were made to shine

the most beautiful lights on the world.