Categories
Life

Elf

I just watched Lord of the rings, again;

I’m certain I’ve missed my calling as an Elf.

Twirling leaves, swaying, falling.

Flowing gowns, floating on air.

Softness.

Romance.

Light and trees.

I’m certain I’ve missed my calling as an Elf.

Oh well.

There’s always next time.

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Categories
Poetry

Sweet Aching Quiet

Sweet aching quiet.

Soft night, curled up beside me.

I know you.

I know your fragile whispers, well.

Categories
Poetry

The Wish

It would be okay,

I believe,

If you were to make a wish

and put it in your pocket.

It would be okay,

especially so,

if the wish was sweet.

For a wish made carefully

is often much sweeter

if forgotten

(in a pocket)

and found

somewhere along the drifting line

of life.

Somewhere lovely,

of course.

Somewhere really quite lovely,

I would think.

Categories
Poetry

How Lovely

How lovely.

The wind of peace.

Here.

Now.

My

how lovely.

Categories
Poetry

Lovely

Good morning, sun.

And river.

Flowers and trees.

Happy day to you, wind,

and the bird song you sweep over mountains.

(Good morning, birds, and mountains, too.)

I will let you be, this day of life.

I will let you all be as you will,

and I will call you

lovely.

Categories
Poetry

The Lonely Soul

The lonely soul

is a beauty.

She is quiet,

so quiet

as she whispers her way

through the noise,

through the dark,

through the rain.

Sing a sweet song to her.

Call to her

and she shall hand you

a soft and thoughtful dream.

Categories
Poetry

Evermore

Hold my heart, dear music.

Let me float in the clouds,

on the sweetest of tunes;

let me hold this feeling, still,

while the moon wraps around me.

Sing it again, sweet Angel.

Evermore is the breath

of this beautiful, beautiful song.

Categories
Poetry

Love

It is a beautiful thing

to know love.

To feel it

burning,

aching,

glowing;

how I have known love

is as small as an hour born

of its grand, magnificent day.

I have loved in many ways.

Is there a garden I am yet to find?

A moment still to spring

upon the delicate plough of yesterday?

I am certain there is more to come.

I shall wait for it by the gate

where the red roses wither

and the daffodils wake

in sweet tufts

of two.

Categories
Poetry

Gypsy

I see the world,

and I know it has been named

by those who came before me.

Who have I become

(or not become)

because of what they have shown me?

Voices claiming to guide are often sour

to my ears.

The world is alive,

delicate,

beautiful,

when my gypsy heart flies

free.

I see the world.

I name it for myself.

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.

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