Categories
Poetry

Still I Dream

With these soft eyes,

I turn to the angry mob

and I speak.

I tell them to leave me be.

I tell them I want no part

in the way they raise their swords

and bring each other down.

I ask them to spare me their daggers.

They will not understand my requests.

They will see my silver sky and call it grey.

Still, I hope.

Still, I dream of a new day.

Categories
Healing

Brave Face

I walk the streets listening to music that makes me cry.

I suppose I will do this until I have made peace with my past and become all that I am in this moment forever onwards, but for now, this is me: and me feels achingly beautiful. Like snow.

To walk the streets in this way, releasing newly risen anger and pain, is the gasp for breath I’ve needed to take for so long. Was I holding my breath, all those years? What did I do with anger and sadness before I learned to tie them in a ribbon of apricot sun?

I am no different to the one who reads this. Each of us travel through childhood gathering scars we will carry for the rest of our lives, or at least until we face them. I am facing mine, now.

I am feeling the anger and the pain.

I am also feeling a greater love than I’ve ever known.

For the sweet little girl I was, and still am in many ways.

For the beautiful people who loved me. How they nurtured my softness, how they pained to see it tarnished by the hardness of the world.

This is the gentle home of me.

Please, come in, just the way you are.

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Categories
Poetry

Best Friends

Oh, the softness you are.

The sweet story of you

whistled through my pages,

the sharpest sorrow, bringing me to

life.

There is nothing more beautiful

than the glistening shards

of a lifetime of broken hearts

melting together again.

This softness,

this story of two best friends,

fills my heart with quiet.

When the roar is over

there is only me

smiling softly.

And you,

somewhere.

Somewhere in time

gone by.

Photo by Diana Jefimova on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

The Rose

I wrote this poem for the beautiful father of my children, today.

I wrote it on a white sheet of paper, using a fine tip pink pen and I left it beside a jar of soft pink roses on the kitchen counter. Then I snuck out of his house, with a smile, wondering what he might think when he discovered it. ☺️

I’m sharing this moment with you all because I believe beautiful moments are a gift to be cherished. I hope you do, too. ☺️

I also believe it’s important to share beautiful moments in the hopes of inspiring more beautiful moments in the world. And heaven knows we need that right now.

So much love, my beautiful bloggy friends.

Give the love hearts, always.

No matter who, no matter what. xx ❤️

xx Brooke

The Rose

Life is like the sweetest rose.

Layer by layer,

it reveals its true beauty.

In its own time

it opens

and becomes

everything

it was always meant to be.

Categories
Poetry

Tomorrow’s Sweet Sun

How sweet it is, dear life.

To choose better, without handing a cup of pain to another.

To know my worth and to ask equal to its value without hesitation: a true gift from the whirling, twirling invisible world of all.

I have a choice, is what life has shown me. To kindly and carefully choose a brighter day. To say thank you but no, this does not work for me.

To seek compromise fairly

or else

gracefully capture

tomorrow’s sweet sun.

Categories
Life

Unconditionally

Bloggy friends?

If ever there comes a time

where you think you have no one,

please remember

that is entirely untrue.

If you feel alone,

If you need more love

more connection

more safety

than you have?

I’m here.

You have me.

I just wanted to say that.

xx

Categories
Life

What Do You Need?

Let’s work this out together, bloggy friends. What can I give you? What do you need?

Ps: I’ve missed you. xx
Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 31: Kindness

Most would consider it an embarrassment, I suppose, the darling life lesson that found me at the supermarket yesterday. But to me, it was a beautifully mysterious lesson, one I will never forget.

We’ve all had that moment, I’d imagine. The moment we see a person with a small handful of things lined up behind our massive trolley full, and the done thing is that we would usually let them sneak in before us. (No judgment if you don’t, we all have our reasons: shyness and social anxiety happen. And are absolutely worthy of understanding and empathy.)

Anyway, I’m waffling already, sorry.

Back to the supermarket line.

I had a full basket of things, not just a couple of items, and the lady in front of me had a trolley that was about three-quarters full, so according to my calculations…she really would have only taken a few extra minutes to check out than I. Still, she offered to have me pass, and would see it no other way.

I’m always so touched by genuine kindness, and this time was no exception. How could I return the kindness, and have her know just how much it meant to me? Could I pay for a small amount of her shopping as a nice surprise? No. I was paying by card. Could I buy her one of the mint packets sitting on the counter? Umm…no.

And that’s when I saw the bag. A beautiful country style shopping bag: I would buy that for her, and as I was leaving I would turn around and hand it to her, knowing we had both done our bit to brighten each other’s day.

The cashier announced the amount I owed, I opened my purse and…my card wasn’t there. My only way of paying for two bags worth of groceries and the special surprise bag…was-not-there. I was gutted. I walked away, without my bags, knowing that when I returned the kind lady would be gone, and I would have a random bag that I really didn’t need.

But as I drove home to pick up the very pesky card that had left itself in my jacket pocket, the universe flashed me a feeling here and there and suddenly I was face to face with the truth.

It was all meant to happen.

And it was meant to happen exactly as it happened in order for me to learn a lesson. What was the lesson? The lesson was kindness—my most fluent, and cherished language. And why did I have to forget my purse in order to remember that I value kindness above most things?

Because if I’d not forgotten my purse…I’d have given that bag to the lady.

And If I’d given it to the lady… I wouldn’t still have it, always to remind me how beautiful it feels to both give and receive kindness.

***

Well. 🙂 We made it my beautiful bloggy friends. 🙂 All the way through these darling days of May, and as always I’ve been so ridiculously grateful for your company. I really didn’t do an awful lot differently, did I, apart from add the word darling in here and there. Ha ha ha. Thank goodness I’m such a love hearty girl, in general, hey. 😛

Until we meet again, Brooke. xx

assortment of fresh vegetables with lemon in food net
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

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Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 11. Nan

She was just one of those people everyone loved.

Darling, through and through.

When she was good, she was like an orange wind, laced with mint and strawberry sweet. She was kind, but not in a: ‘Hi, how are you?’ sort of way. She was kind in a: ‘Let me hold your soul for you,’ sort of way.

Of course, she had her demonic side, as we all do from time to time on the ever puffing human train. But her darling side far outweighed any dark side of the moon nonsense circling her sky.

She was the first non-doctor to hold my tiny human body, before even my Mum.

She was also the first to hold my soul, and really truly keep it home.

And so today’s darling day is for you, Nan.

I hope you look down and smile every time I do the ‘Nan dance’ on the porch or cartwheel alongside the car to wish my babies the happiest of goodbyes. I learned all of that silly beautiful from you. And as long as I live, I’ll be proud that most of me is made from the love you gave me.

I now share that love with the world, because it’s the only thing that feels truly right to me—so thank you, Nan.

Thank you for teaching me what true love is.

Always in my heart, sweet lady.

Every darling day of mine.

pensive grandmother with granddaughter having interesting conversation while cooking together in light modern kitchen
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

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Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 9: Truth

Darling diamond,

fire within;

the birth of

home

in a burning house

of ‘good’ and ‘bad’.

Aching truth becomes the

darling

ever and always.

Passionate truth becomes

the choice

never to hold another’s

heart

with selfish hands.