January 2012 – Soul Speak

Breath of Life

A door opens
(or, does it close)
Curtains sway upon an
ice-cold breeze
teasing thoughts to
see-through lace
lightening flashes and
thunder crashes
or, was that heart’s
beating out of time.

Love has its own vibration
the deeper we fall the
higher we go
its flames reflect upon
the living stream
with tears and sighs to
heal its hurts
and hold us close
in its sea
without the drowning.

A tender kiss to forehead
smiling eyes
re-light the dying embers
and lines without hope
suddenly surprise us
with a new
breath of life.

~*~

Shared with dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #29

Evolving

>How far do we go in
pursuit of dreams
for joy or, passion
around the world
or, just next door to
find the other half
of our lost soul.

Everyone can see when
love-light’s in the eyes
like looking at the stars
they hold a certain twinkle.

In the wild grown meadow
of the mind it’s easy to
procrastinate
to deceive
especially ourselves
we don’t want
(yet we do)
such a complex being
in our complex energy.

We evolve
transform
some become as butterflies
if we try to touch
they simply fly away.

I don’t want to seize it
anymore
So I wait
holding keys to my fate
and let destiny do as it will
after all
tomorrow, is another day.

~*~

Shared with Carry on Tuesday #142
Poetry Picnic #24
Poetry Pantry #85

Abstract

There are lines of love and glory
circles with red dots
which start at their end
then, which way is up?
(who cares)

Although basically shy
I’ve always tried to be different
have never conformed to what
was considered
(by most)
is the ‘norm’

My one long earring dangles
although, it isn’t forlorn
I could have a pair
but just, like one there.

New fears are born
of not ‘fitting’ into
the confines of others
and concepts of how they
‘think’ we should be.

I say to them all:

I beat my own drum
dance to its rhyme
so what does it matter
if I sing out of time.

I don’t know the Jones’s
and won’t die of shame
if I don’t wear those labels
which make me the same.

Be bold
Be different
Be as abstract as you please

Don’t wear other’s labels
wear your own name
as you please.

~*~

The Painting is by an artist named Wassily Kandinsky.
Not fond of abstract art but, this painting seemed to suit what I wanted to say …lol

Shared with Magpie Tales #102

Occupy Antarctica

With anguish as befits any mother
she cried out to her new born
pushing them gently with quick flick
of a flipper until they were safe…
tucked beneath her belly
perched upon her feet.

The light from the sky orb
burned a brighter flame
although the snow was
permeable, it couldn’t
penetrate their thickness of
feather over blubber.

Each felt the shocks as
the earth seemed to move
once and, then again.

Fresh snow fell across
her field of vision as each
came to take their place
on this frozen waste.

This frigid land of God given serenity.

This land was theirs
they had always occupied it
for starters and, what’s more
always would be.

~*~

A lot going on, couldn’t think of anything to link the words to this week but for some reason, this stuck in my mind, so, out it had to come. LOL
With the new explorations going on at the poles searching for more resources to drill for and exploit, I’ve often wondered that…if animals could speak our language, if they would ever say they were ashamed of us and of the disgusting ways in which we have never ceased to exploit and destroy this beautiful planet and hence, cause millions of animal and plant species to become extinct. we forget that, man too is a species, can and probably will, become extinct.

Shared with The Sunday whirl #41

Undercurrent

There is a sense of unity
in those ties that bind
if all’s created equally
between those curves and lines.

Adrift inside the letting go
there is no choice
I cannot row any further
in the uphill of your stream.

Caught up in the afterglow
I still see hope in sparkles of the
dust that settles
(but must try to remember)
I need to forget
that it never was
and,
what will be, will be

~*~

Shared with dVersePoets #Poetics

Balance

He plays
and, waves of love
wash me clean
Sweep over my soul with
ancient sound in their
healing touch
and…
it’s raining.

Words too, fall.
Settle now in
puddles at my feet
where rainbows blend.

Footsteps displacing
pieces of a heart
with new ones
ripples then,
unbroken.

It’s all about keeping
it balanced.

Seeing thoughts with clarity
through spokes in the
wheel of gracious days.

~*~

Shared with Theme Thursday #Balance

Skateboarding

“It’s so easy Bren, you just get on and you go.” They all shouted at once.
“I’m not so sure I know what to do.” I replied, a little nervous.
“Just do it Bren. Go on!”
So, on it I jumped and as the wheels spun, I wobbled and soon ended up on my bum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My nephews all nagged me to try skateboarding when it first came to the UK. I was in my late 30’s then, still young enough to feel pretty invincible and not worry too much about broken bones (back then.) They had their skateboards outside and we had a long path at the side of the house, they were all nagging on at me to have a go.
Having been a decent roller skater I thought a skateboard was the same, so easy. I didn’t realise the wheels were on a balance thingie and the board itself rolled from side to side so, you went sideways as well as forwards. As soon as I stepped onto it…it started moving and I came right off onto my butt. That was my first and last ever try on a skateboard.
They are strictly for the young or foolish. LOL

Shared with G=Man’s Friday Flash 55

Life Painting

She came like a thief in the night
seeking my possession.

Sleek

Moving here, there
and, everywhere she moved
my eyes tried to follow
through her sensual dance
with snow.

Ripples from the pen
ride fluidic waves
across a vacant page
filling it with passion
from this heart on fire.

Memories of love beneath
a thousand moons recalled
in a dissonant interval
between the dark and light
of dreams where once, the
river cried
gifting me new liquid
with which to further paint
the canvas of my soul

~*~

Shared with Thursday Think Tank #82

Cocooned

Sand slips through time’s slimline waist
and life’s all about taking chances.

Pale rays of dawn usher in
new potential but I resist
Speak in hushed tones
leaving stillness undisturbed
but golden light will not await
and soon begins to dissipate
the darkness.

Cocooned…
reluctant to leave this bubble
of lucid dreaming
I drift into
meditative gratitude’s

Heavy lumber
carried yesterday is
a floating wreck I can hold onto
to stop myself from drowning.

Breathing in blessings
Breathing out woes

So, I let you go
ease myself from
this sleeps most
tender arms
and thus,
the day begins.

~*~

The Poets Rally
Warms the cockles of my heart
through these coldest months

I would like to nominate Life Between the Lines LBTL

Shared with Three Word Wednesday CCLV1
Thursday Poets Rally Week #61

The Road to Now

Feelings sink or swim on
emotional roller coaster rides
which rise and fall behind
comforts painted veil.

Sharing secrets with the moon
in coldest gasps of clear nights
in winter reprieve
I sing the song of my heart
to twinkling, silver stars
trying to be close to you
in wishes, prayer
Anything, to take me
‘there’ and never have to
leave.

Trust isn’t always a given
and, isn’t with-holding truth
the same as a lie
as a lie, as a lie.

Always,
so many hills and valleys
to be traveled
The deepest depths of sadness
the highest heights of joy
unique for each and every
one of us on the
road to now.

~*~

Shared with dVersePoets OpnLinkNight #27

Interpreting Art

Crinkled walls
paper thin
and,
just as fragile
..like life.

Curled up on a
bale of papier-mâché
to which she is
(apparently)
tied
She sleeps.

Is that all there is?

In fetal position
and,
naked too.

Is that to lure you in to
her world?
A wolf above what was
sheep’s clothing?

This is anything and everything
you wish for it to be
a woman on a rice cube
naked with black sash to
complete the look.

Is it art?
Some would say it is

…Who knows.

~*~

I’m not altogether certain what this image is meant to portray at all. Not sure if with the crinkled walls
behind her, she is curled up on a cube of paper, or if it’s wool, or what, so without knowing for sure, I wrote about the things it ‘speaks’ to me. I don’t know if I would call it ‘art’ at all, though.

Shared with
Carry on Tuesday #141 ‘Is that all there is?”
Magpie Tales #101

Little Women

Trying not to dwell too much on her new and secret crush, the elder of the two sisters fluffed each pillow behind her younger sibling. Of all four sisters she’d always had such a knack of knowing exactly what it was this sister needed. Shards of sadness pierced her heart as she glanced upon the younger’s pretty face, now so ashen, tired. The thought of losing her was like an open wound. A badly blistered scald which, if popped and opened to the air would be too raw. Too, too heart-breaking to endure. She opened the drapes wide, admitting the mid-day sun and shook her head, whispering a prayer as she resisted those angry urges and oft times head-strong instinct of the fiery temper she possessed to scatter. To shatter anything and everything, send it all flying into the walls or floor at the unfairness of it all… but instead, she hid the deepest of sad sighs beneath a smile. Quickly gathering her wits about her with a lift of her skirts and a well practiced charm. She flopped down beside her on the bed where she took up the book then continued to read aloud from her sister’s favourite story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little Women Written in 1868 by American author Louisa May Alcott was the first book I read by myself as a child and, fell in love with all of its characters. Enough to make we want to read it several times over.
Being quite a tomboy in my early teens myself, I so identified with Jo March. Even now, I still remember the first words of the opening lines of the book.
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
The story is set against the backdrop of the American civil war. A family where the father is away serving in the army as a chaplain. The mother and her four daughters, Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy, are trying to cope with surviving on a day to day basis, and Beth’s succumbing to an illness which eventually brings about her death.

It’s a lovely story of love, of growth, of sisters fighting and of sharing. It was made as a movie in 1933 with Katharine Hepburn as Jo and re-made a couple of more times since then but, unless they’re exceptionally good, I don’t think re-makes are ever as good as the originals.

Shared with The Sunday whirl

Brighton & Hove

Peace stands proud between the borders
where,
holding an orb in one hand and arm
out-stretched with olive branch
her wings are reaching for the sky.

Didn’t pay much attention
to her as a child
so much more interested in the
different coloured paving slabs
then,
When I could really be in
two places at once.

For years Brighton was in East Sussex and Hove was in West Sussex, two different towns in two different county’s. Brighton Peace Statue (Info Here) Brighton, being the much larger and more popular of the two for it’s two (then) piers and, seaside attractions.
The peace statue was built in memory of King Edward V11 (Queen Victoria’s eldest son and heir) who spent some time in hospitals in Brighton, convalescing when he was ill.
As a child we would walk the whole seafront right up to the boundary with Hove. To this statue where the paving slabs would change from a dark gray to a deep pink halfway between the base of the statue up to the road, to denote the borderline. My sister and I loved being able to stand with one foot on either side of the line to be able to say we were in both towns at the same time.
In 1997 the two towns joined to form one authority and after a campaign to win over other cities also applying for the status the two towns were finally granted city status by Queen Elizabeth II as part of the millennium celebrations in 2000.

So there you have a history of a border that I knew so well as a child. Built in 1912 and still in place, today.

Shared with dVersePoets Prompt #Borders

Never say Goodbye

Sorrow oft times sings her song
through ice cold blasts and
whistles down the wind

Melodies which call between
the darkness and the light

She weeps for a silent heart
and sadness heaves its heavy
burden upon a mother’s shoulders.

Haunting notes here and there
reach in to touch so much more
than any words would ever do.

We forget we were born to fly
and love gives us wings

To fly as Angels do, above clouds
carried on the upward lift
of your beautiful love

Always say ‘adieu, so long’
but,
Never say Goodbye.

~*~

For Ann and Chris.

Shared with Poets United Think Tank #81

Timmy Two Balls

The little dog is not complete without his balls.
For he always plays with not one ball, but two.
Bright yellow, practice golf balls but, he doesn’t care
what their colour is or what their real use is. All he cares
is that they are his to pick up, chase, chomp, chew on, and play.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since he was a young puppy Timmy has never played with just one ball. He won’t chase just one, it has to be thrown and, he’ll wait with his eyes on the other one until it’s thrown before, he’ll go for them. These are like a sponge but not soft at all so that bits come off or I wouldn’t let him play with them. It’s very comical to see him run with two in his mouth and even more so if he tries to pick up and carry three, or, one large and one small one… LOL

As the dVerse prompt was ‘Imagism’ I was looking through all my pics, for objects to focus thought on for the prompt and saw several pics of Tim with his two balls and thought, ‘ah ha…hope his spherical objects fit in with Imagism.’ It also is for G-Man’s Friday Flash 55 prompt too. Just a bit of fun.

Shared with dVersePoets Prompt #Imagism
G-Man’s Friday Flash 55

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