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
Life

Scars

The scars of life run so very deep. It’s hard to remember them, hard to sit with that pain.

The moments of quiet are beautiful, though, and moments of love revisited are to be cherished.

How beautiful true love feels when compared to its total opposite.

Categories
Poetry

Empty

I open my heart

and close my eyes.

And I am just me.

Just me

in this silent night.

Let me be empty.

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
Writing

Moon Unconditional

‘Sun?’

‘Yes, Moon?’ said Sun as he fell into the evening sky.

‘I shine every night. I brighten the humans’ world. Why do they not love me?’

‘Moon?’

‘Yes, Sun?’

‘You have a chip in your tooth.’

‘Do I?! Oh, no! Maybe that’s why!’

‘Moon?’

‘Yes, Sun?’

‘It’s a tooth.’

‘I know. And I don’t want a broken one.’

‘But you have a broken one.’

‘Sun! You are not hearing what I am saying! The humans don’t love me and I don’t want a broken tooth.’ Moon stormed around the sky, looking for her lost boot.

‘Moon? I love you. And you have a broken tooth. Not but, and. Did you hear me? And you have a broken tooth.’

‘Sun. I have no idea what you’re on about,’ said Moon, putting her found boot on and keying in her crescent shine coordinates.

‘I know, Moon, I know. You’ll understand one day.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You will.’

And with that, Moon said goodbye and shone unconditionally for the humans below.

Categories
Poetry

Free

To know the soft skin of my own truth

as it peers upon the fears of others.

I catch their fear,

I hold it.

I catch their fear

I love it well.

And my truth

whispers:

of this ache, my dear,

you are free.

Categories
Poetry

I Am This

I have decided

there is a way life should be,

a way I should be.

As a woman.

As a mum.

As a fictional character

plucked perfectly from the sky

of humanity.

And I run

and I run

and I run to get there.

To be that.

And I run until I decide

that I don’t have to run there.

Because I am here.

I am this.

I am this.

Categories
Poetry

For Peace

No.

Nothing is more important than peace.

Not to me.

Me who has faced the wicked fire of others.

Me who has held my own heart

and felt it break in my hands.

I have broken,

but I am not broken.

I am ready to find and keep the softness.

I am ready to find and keep the peace.

Categories
Poetry

Call Me Shakespeare

Oh!

Has this truth been truly seen!

But a glimpse into a floating sea

of strange reality,

but a knowing truer than true can be!

Who is Shakespeare?

That terrible, desperate soul,

falling,

falling,

landing evermore in the stories

of aching romance and tragedy?

I am Shakespeare.

I am the writer.

I am the lover.

And so are you, love.

So are you,

lover of passionate life

and love.