Categories
Poetry

Remembrance

There she was.

She had always been there

beneath the rubble of crumbling

life.

How sweetly the sun did shine

upon her remembrance.

Welcome home xx
Categories
Poetry

In The Gentle Woods

It is the depths that call me here.

It is the silence

and the bells

of yesterdays wish.

Let there be now.

Let there be this walk alone

in the gentle woods.

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Categories
Poetry

Soft Arms

I hold this fear in soft arms

and let her be.

She is a dear traveller.

She knows this village well.

Peace, dear friend.

We shall sit

and we shall be, without wishing

to change one another.

Categories
Life

Wishes

I’m on holidays in the middle of nowhere.

I have books.

I have my computer.

I have a heart that wishes for silence and the soft smiles of love.

I will sip some tea and close my eyes.

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Categories
Poetry

As I Am

And I will quietly be

as I am.

Yes, I will quietly be.

Categories
Poetry

The Echos of Love

The echos of love

will unravel your soul.

Let them.

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Categories
Poetry

Quiet on a Hill

I close my eyes, my foot on a chair.

Pots clang. Time flashes,

bright and loud.

Could there be just me and the stars?

Me and my hands on dry earth?

My heart glows at the thought.

And I run, and I run from the noise.

And I run and hold tight to the sweet,

sweet moments of quiet on a hill.

Exhaustion is the arrow to peace.

Peace is the home that waits for me

always.

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Categories
Poetry

She Remembers

How my soul asks to be held.

How she breathes

the cotton thoughts of yesterday

through the trees

as she remembers.

Categories
14 Day Creative Challenge

Golden Light

She holds my hand and walks me home

while rabid dogs do lie,

she takes each ache, and wraps them dear

though fear, old foe, won’t die.

Her seeds of goodness, daily, sprout

she guides my heart by day,

the softest wind, she whispers me,

her sun the warmest ray.

And with this peace, I lay her tune

I sing her through the night,

oh, softness, take, me home again,

sweet angel, golden light.

***

When I believed in angels, a golden one would shine.

And I would see her face in the dark of my mind, always smiling, always soft and sweet and dear.

And she would hold me through this life, the golden one, when I was broken, lost or bruised.

I wish I still believed in angels.

I wish I still believed.

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Categories
Poetry

Stop. Imagine.

Stop.

Imagine.

There is a human here and a human there.

Both are different, vastly so.

Human number one feels okay being bombarded with a box full of emails. He tackles them, one by one, and then he continues on to more busy things. He flies to the top of the work chain. He never rests. Not even when he’s sick. Successful. They say.

(Nobody can figure out why success looks like that.)

Human number two feels overwhelmed by emails and noise, so instead he chooses to paint. Beside the trees. He struggles with focus, but he needs to struggle with focus, because if he focused he’d lose his flow. His authentic flow. The thing within him that changes the lives of others in profoundly beautiful ways.

(Nobody can understand him. Nobody can figure out why he’s broken like that.)

He feels ashamed. He has a choice. He takes medication so he can be more like the first guy. Everybody breathes a sigh of relief.

He slowly dies inside.

And so does everyone around him because

where are all the beautiful things?

Imagine.

Stop.

All toxic cultures die.

Everybody is happy, being the person they were always meant to be.

Everybody.

The end.

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