Categories
Poetry

The Carpet

The wind was crisp

and the sun sang warm to my skin.

The rest of the world was too fast

to know bliss like that.

The truth is: the truth is too expensive;

a depth of emotion most are unwilling

to pay.

Humanity can’t see through true eyes.

Can’t see the fighting is a small child’s game.

Who are the adults?

Let me know when you meet them.

Wounded and scared;

don’t you know how deeply you once felt the world?

The carpet is there for a reason.

The broom is used by all until the carpet

spills the truth.

The truth, they say,

will set you free, and I am free

to tell you that.

But, then again,

the carpet is good, too.

Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Sweet Muse of Mine

Where do you go, sweet bell?

Where do you hide

when I long to feel your voice

sing through my bones?

I only know you;

the place I call home.

I only know you, dear constant voice

of heart,

of soul,

of love.

Oh.

But here you are again, little bird.

Here you are with the words I have missed,

the song I have so wished to hear on the wind.

Stay a while.

Please stay a while, sweet muse of mine.

Categories
Poetry

The Web

It is beautiful,

I think,

to be a very small thread

on the web of it all.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Little Light

What colour shall I paint my sky?

Soft-pink and grey:

clouds of spun sugar,

sweet dreams that drift me to life?

Bring me a cool breath of clarity.

Bring me a little light,

and I will shine it, wherever I may go.

Though the roads may crumble

and darken

and fade,

I will have my little light.

I will have my sweet dreamy sky.

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Sweet and Quiet

The sweet and quiet of life is where my soul belongs.

The essence of a strawberry.

The taste of the softest kiss beneath a swaying tree.

It is not all that I am, this sweet and quiet that calls me.

But it is my favourite place to be.

My favourite aspect of everything.

Photo by Alina Vilchenko on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

My Sun

When the sun woke up

in my small human frame,

I learned that love lives

on the wings of the wind.

My dear sweet, darling sun.

Always swimming in my eyes

as I gaze at those who need me.

Always melting this heart of mine

so that I might paint the world

with a bright new day.

I will never close my eyes

again.

I will never close my eyes,

beautiful sun.