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.

Photo by Amanda Klamrowski on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Love and Pizza

I firmly assure you.

Love

is all

there is.

Stop mucking around

and get on with it, world.

The pizza tastes better, there.

Categories
Poetry

The Stories We Tell

The stories we tell ourselves

about what life

is,

does,

means,

will make our hearts

or break our hearts.

The choice,

I suppose,

is ours.

Make, break

or both, sometimes.

If only the answer were simple.

Then again…

what is simple?

Categories
Poetry

Love Kept Her

And with a smile,

she held life gone by.

And love kept her.

Love kept her,

home.

Home, at last.

Categories
Poetry

Seasons

And when there is sun

such as this,

and when there is beautiful drift

and swaying trees,

I see life as it is

and I know it is good.

For, the mind, I know

tells stories.

And yet

perfect truth

is this touch of fresh air.

Just another season.

Another precious season

of darling life.

Categories
Poetry

Careless Life

Do not touch this softness.

I see you

angrily tearing at her bones,

leave her be.

Dear sweet, peaceful girl.

For she must rest,

she is weary,

must rest, she has been

battered and bruised

by the tentacles of careless,

careless life!

Categories
Poetry

The Rose

Even the most darling rose

is a work in progress.

Be the rose.

How beautiful

that she will show you the way

to freedom.

Categories
Poetry

Each New End

Life is a story I tell myself.

And I daren’t tell it wrong

for fear of the unhappy ending.

But what is unhappy?

And what is an ending

if a beginning is found

on the other side

of each new end?

Categories
Poetry

Messy Life

There is no need to be afraid of the

not good enough.

This weakness you perceive,

this pathetic softness you scold yourself for

compared to

she who declares herself strong.

Close your eyes.

Breathe and know this.

You are perfection

just the way you are.

For you must know this flimsy frailty

in order to recognise the goddess

who one day will rise within.

It must be.

For without this shadow

the towering goddess inside

would remain hidden to you.

Trust the journey.

Trust in the perfection

of messy life.