Through a Child’s Eyes

© http://www.waiming.com

Simple morning chores all done
she was drawn by the metallic tinkle.

To a jingle-jangle of sound
which echoed so clear.
It was sweet, sweet
music to her ears.

Such a beautiful noise
drowned the gurgling sound
of water swirling at her feet.

The chimes were not placed
there through error though.
As with most of the small
Himalayan village
her papa is a fisherman
and he’d placed them
there to please the Gods.

To ask them for their blessings.

In awe
…she hesitates
wishing so to own.
To covet their music-bringing-joy

but,

as if to show displeasure
at being thought a toy
to her surprise
a sudden gust arrives
and blows the chimes just
out of the young child’s reach.

shaken by this
to vindicate herself of
anymore such selfish thought
of ownership
she gives thanks instead for their sharing
and offers a silent prayer.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo           *All rights reserved

The prompt by Dani today at Poetry Jam was to use art/painting for our inspiration.
I wanted to write something to do with Tibetan wind chimes and, Googling it came across this artist’s stunning work. He has so many lovely paintings at his website.
Wai Ming

Shared with Three Word Wednesday: CCLXXIV Jingle, Error, Vindicate
Poetry Jam Painting a picture with words

Of Gods and men

They
(whoever they are)
say we live at least four or five
different lives
on this beautiful planet.

Each time we come back
we return to enable our souls
to repair our prior mistakes
Our sins, our damage to others
which is why we sometimes
go through Deja Vu

We come back to reach a higher level
of spirituality in order
for us to eventually return
to the Prime Creator

back to the
‘I am’
of which we are all
one small part.

When Gods and men lived
side by side
I guess we knew their source
The fountain of all knowledge
and we wanted a share in it too
to understand the magic
they could do

And,

I always knew I’ve loved you before
another time, another place
for I recognised your soul.

Soul mates see through the mist

…clearly.

The ache is soothed
with time’s healing balm
through all the setting suns
yet,
there is new love to
discover too which
awaits the lucky ones

So if it’s you

Choose again

and,

choose well.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #46
Poets United Pantry #100

Live Your Dreams

Life is
the long and winding road.

Sands of time
ever moving
shift once again
offering new direction.

Untied hair blows with
the winds of change.
Just the slightest breeze
but enough to tease those
tresses from their
sleepless rest.

She vowed a thousand kisses deep
to keep passion’s flow alive within
the core of her being
in the living stream.

A hand reaches
to brush a cheek
….tenderly
with love.

Smiles cover the sting with a
soothing balm of unspoken knowing.

A sea of sky
stretched arms out wide
before my eyes
as if Heaven’s awake to my needs
there is no sacrifice to
high a price for love
and,

if you want to be a hero
you have to live your dreams.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

Shared with
Carry on Tuesday#157 Prompt: The Long and Winding Road
With Real Toads Open Link Monday

Separate Lives

Image © Edward Hopper House At Dusk

Sun slinks low to the horizon
giving leave for darker shades
of dusk to arrive.

Trees rustle their conversations
with all manner of inhabitants
muted, to suit the dying of light.

The steps take us up into
another world.
One where,
we may not wish to go in
the dead of night
but, the street lamp
offers a quiet glow of courage.

Light plays across cold-stone walls
of the old house
somehow
softening their intimidating depth.

If walls could talk
what would they say about those
hearts they’ve known?

For all its rooms the house
is empty
save a woman, who waits.

Maybe she has always been
isolated in that one room
looking at its four walls but peeking
at the world outside every now and then

just as we all tend to live in our separate boxes
leading our own separate lives.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *all rights reserved

*I wanted this to be a bit on the dark side because the painting seems somewhat dark and lonely too.

Shared with Magpie Tales #119 Edward Hopper House at Dusk Painting.

Pearl

Always a free thinking spirit
trapped within a nacre cocoon of
out-dated, austere rules
she had no choice but to obey
but, longed for more than the old wives tales
burnished into her memory.

Barnacles covered everything. Eventually
leaving all surfaces, brittle, flinty and
prone to easily cut into the softest
of soft flesh.

Suddenly the water was churning
…gurgling
as if there were a storm approaching.

It had been rough many times before
but this, somehow was different.

She felt a sharp scrape along her lips
tongue, chalk dry now from fear
as light came flooding in.

It was all a blur as she was
lifted high then
dipped back into the water
Naked now
completely drenched

and,

the little pearl
was born.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*I was going to write about a mermaid but then thought it might be a little quirky to write what a pearl’s thoughts might be.  lol

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #58

Roll up Roll up


We came for all the rides.
Not much money in our pockets
but it was all so much cheaper
back then too.
A couple of quid (pounds)
got us plenty of those and
maybe some candy floss too.

There were boat swings
and chair planes
ghost trains to ride
a Ferris wheel to sit atop
(and get stuck when it broke down)
if you felt so inclined.

The bumper cars were fun
yeah,
I was fourteen and so sure I could drive
(not)
right into the front, back and sides
of anyone in the way.

The switchback, the waltzer, I hated those
the carousel was a bore but the side stalls
excited, especially the guns.
Oh, how I loved to shoot those pellet guns
at the little metal men, knock them all down
win another free go and off I’d go again.
Even with their sights all bent
(just to make it harder to win)
somehow, I always won.
Don’t think they liked me much
but then, I walked away with a big fluffy
teddy bear so, I didn’t care.

Used to feel so sorry for the goldfish
tied up in plastic bags, no air to breath
nowhere to move, hung up in heat all day.

The darts, the hoops, the plastic ducks
all waiting to be hooked.

The noise, the music, the screams
the joy all carried on the air.

The smell of hot dogs and fried onions
burgers, fish and chips
along with
pink and white candy floss on sticks
and toffee apples
upon which to break our teeth.

The rain that came and never left
’till every step we took was mud
and we’d end up caked in it all
covered in the stuff
swearing we’d never come back
and yet
there we were as soon as the fair
showed up in town once more.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*Pics are all Google images

Shared with dVersePoets Poetics: The Fair

Honour

Honour
(to me)
is has always been
agreeing to disagree
respectfully.

Honour
(to me)
is not wanting to fight
and force my beliefs on anyone
who doesn’t share the same view.

Honour
(to me)
is honesty, trust and being
truthful in all things.

Honour
(to me)
is being kind, compassionate, caring
of everyone because, we all have hearts
that ache from callous words or deeds.

Honour
(to me)
was in serving my country
appreciating all who have served
and, fallen. Those who still serve
to protect our freedom to have a
point of view and not have to fight
for the right to express it.

Freedom is not free.
It has to be fought for and won by those
with the courage to make it happen.

Honour
(to me)
walks hand in hand, side by side
with faith, hope and love.

Always.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

*We spell honor with a U (honour)

Shared with Poets United Think Tank #98 Honor

You Know

Another day
Another dream
nothing is ever
as it seems.

A rain of light
sweeps across the desert
of my heart
quenching each thirst
of my desire in
life’s endless mirage.

Love wears no chains

It’s ancient
magical
Timeless and free.

Souls seeking safe harbour
nestle inside a total eclipse

Alone with destiny
ignoring the last requiem

Clouds part

Light appears

Unselfish

The tree of knowledge
grows and shares

Change is everything.
Everything we touch
is itself
forever changed.

Deep down you know

you just, know.

We are all part of life’s cycle

Real love last’s forever
and the circle
cannot be broken.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

Shared with dVersePoets Meeting the Bar: Stream-of-Conscousness Writing

Bully

 I’d kept the wheels off my mum’s old baby pram
in our back garden intending to make a
wooden go-cart for my two younger brothers.

One day they came running home and the youngest
aged about five had the makings of a black eye
the flesh above it, swelling. My other brother
was around seven and not a fighter.
I was their big sis aged about eleven.

I was never a fighter, a complete novice
when it came to violence, having a bully
for a step-father I’d seen enough of
anger, destruction of our home and, of
walking on egg shells around his moods
in case we set him off on one
so yeah,
I was not a fighter

but,

could not stand by and see my young brothers
bullied by a bigger boy of my age either.
Besides which, he’d stolen our wheels.

My two brothers crying, the three of us
reached the bullies house but he was across
the road in a field playing with, our wheels.

Quietly I told him they were ours and had
been stolen from our back yard.
He denied it, swore and shouted me down
so, I ignored him and reached
to take back what was ours.

I didn’t see it coming
with my brothers watching closely
his fist slammed into my lips and then
his fists rained down on me again and again
I found myself fighting to protect my face
from a further sear of blinding pain.

A crowd gathered around to watch this spectacle
and I was struggling with this bully
trying to hold off his blows
whilst trying with one hand to also stop my pants from
dropping down around my knees because the
button had fallen off them long ago and
tearing into me he’d ripped off the safety pin
which had been holding them up.

What a mess.

The crowd of kids were shouting
‘Go on, get him Bren.’
I don’t even remember what happened
but somehow I managed to beat him off
and,
whatismore, seemed to win the fight.

He quit trying to beat me
and we walked away with our wheels.
My two brothers were amazed
and, so was I.

One big fat bloody lip, a few cuts, bruises later
I looked much worse for the wear
but, was a hero in my younger brother’s eyes.

We did make a great go-cart too!

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

I don’t agree with fighting at all but, sometimes you have to make a stand and do what is right for those you love. I was so upset that my youngest brother of five had a black eye and neither of them deserved to lose those wheels to a bully of my size and age.
Bullying is so difficult to tackle because there are no rules. Adults seem helpless to help kids who are bullied because usually parents of these bullies are bullies themselves and don’t see a problem with that type of behaviour. All I know is, you have to stand up for what is right and take back your power from anyone who steals it by bullying.
Who knows, maybe God was on my side…. LOL

Shared with Three Word Wednesday #CCLXXIII Flesh, Novice, Sear
Poetry Jam Bully

Xena: Warrior Princess

An old debt had yet to be paid

A ghost behind the veil
waits for a sword’s mystical help
where in-between worlds
death can still be cheated
through ancient mist
if the Gods are pleased.

How absurd to play a coda
as if it were the end
of a love which never dies.

I shall tell it to the sky
I shall tell it to the clouds
I shall say it all in teardrops
on stormy nights like this.

Sometimes love needs a champion
The demon cannot win his
grand intention
so,
with the sacred Katana
she’ll free the souls he’s trapped
in so doing will
find her own redemption
and hence, a state of grace.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo          *All rights reserved

This video clip is taken from the last two-part episode of my most fav TV series Xena: Warrior Princess. ‘A friend in Need’
The music is from the movie Pearl Harbour.
Some of these episodes were downright silly but, some were very good.  In the final episode Xena has to die and use the sacred Katana to kill a demon ghost who eats souls to gain strength.

Very intense, passionate, lovely.

Shared with dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #45

Tomorrow is another day

You play havoc with their
emotions
flirt till it hurts
make them want you so.

You tell them you love them
will never let them go
meantime…..
your eyes will catch another
across a crowded room
you meet them at their game
…flirting
and, off you go again.

The dollar signs means everything
to you.

You can never ever be
faithful
but, in your mind you
don’t belong to anyone
but Ashley.
Never did and never will

’til you finally realised
what love was all about
but Rhett was leaving you by then
so sick of all your games
too late, you knew you’d lost him.

But with true O’Hara grit
you declared you’d win him back again.
The life you once knew may all have
gone with the wind but there was still hope

After all,
tomorrow is another day.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

Shared with
Carry on Tuesday #156 After all, tomorrow is another day
With RealToads Open Link Monday

Spring Awakening

© http://www.billmclaughlin.ca

After winter’s stillness has settled Autumn’s passing grief
perhaps marrow in bones which ache and stiff hips from
all that cold, seek the heat once more to oil their creaks.

A hand hesitates.
Moves to open the sealed window against
a massive doubt
(maybe it is too soon, too soon)
and yet,
the heart always knows its secret need.

Wiping away weeping condensation
new hope rose in early morning sunlight.
The old frame groaned as heat reached in on
happy dust-mote beams
and,
she espied the late spring awakening.

A full clatter of bright colours from
fresh sprung crocuses greeted her
from their distant flower beds.

~*~

©   Daydreamertoo      *All rights Reserved

Shared with The Sunday Whirl #57

Our lady of the Isles

Hardly invisible
from the ground you reach for the sky
at thirty feet high.

A gentle mother reminding us of peace
as soldiers bused by from north to south
to test fire on the range every day
but you
you hold your own most powerful weapon
as the child in your arms.

Standing on the Hill of Miracles
it certainly was one the day
something returned that was not
on the flight plan
and almost landed at your feet
causing a huge outcry.

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

When I was stationed on Benbecula it was a test firing range where army and air force regiments would come and practice firing the newest ground to air missiles and fighter aircraft would also practice firing at targets other aircraft had being pulled behind them.
I was a tracking radar op, it meant as opposed to following a huge sweep of info like on a round screen, our radar ‘locked’ onto one individual target and followed wherever it went without loosing sight of it’s flight path, height etc.
One day we’d fired a (new back then in the 70’s) drone and instead of returning on it’s proper flight path it somehow went quite haywire and dive bombed…landing right beside this precious statue. Being a very religious island, you can well imagine the uproar it caused among the locals folks and, I could see why.
The hill it sits on is called ‘Hill of miracles’

Shared with dVersePoets Poetics: Tools of the trade

Telepathy

I’ve always tried to teach my dogs to do things without
my needing to say anything. Either by looking
at them or, with using hand signals. I think it’s kind of
a neat thing to do.
Tim is a very smart dog. He also tells me when he thinks it’s
time to go for his walk. He won’t leave the front door!

Chloe used to get so frustrated when I would look at
Tim without speaking and he’d react by jumping up and down
excited, wagging his tail and such.

“How do you do get him to do that?”

“I talk to him.”

“No you don’t. You can’t talk to a dog without
saying anything Bren!”

“Yes, you can. I talk telepathically and tell him
what I want him to do and he knows.”

“That’s so not true. But, how does he know what you
want him to do?
Tell me because I want to do it too!”

“I am telling you the truth. I just have to think
about taking him for a walk and, he’s there at the
door, waiting for me.
I just have to think about feeding him and he’s
there in the kitchen, waiting.
I just tell him in my mind to go get his toys
and he brings them.
Sometimes I just smile or raise an eyebrow and he
knows it’s play time. Dogs are very smart, you know!”

“Well, teach me how to do it too then because
he just ignores me unless I speak to him”

“I can’t teach you. You can either do ‘it’
or you can’t.”

“Not fair.”

“C’est la vie.”

 

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

 

Shared with With Real Toads Mary’s Mixed Bag: Two sides of the coin

Adventure Playground

The land had been donated, it
was being built by students and
student teachers from Sussex University
for us local kids to have somewhere to
go, to run around and have fun.

My friends, younger brothers, sisters and I
were helping, when we weren’t
running around like lunatics.
playing.

All rough and tumble
there was always
mud, sometimes blood and tears
but it was always such an adventure.

This type of park was a new idea
(in England).
They turned trees into forts
and made high walkways that had to be
negotiated with care because there was only
rope as a side bar to hold onto

and, on some trees they tied zip lines
about twenty feet above the ground
sloping down the hill
where we’d climb up to the platform
and queue like fools waiting
to jump off and swing
yelling like Tarzan as we whooshed
down the line
holding on to the rope pulley for dear life
because there was no harness to sit in back then
it was all hanging on and on a wing and a prayer
adrenaline on fire through
excitement and fear.

There were no safety nets anywhere
we were tough and if you fell
you hurt and you yelled.

We’d swing on tyres
hanging from those trees
fall off
scrape our hands and knees
get back up and do it all
over again

then,
when we were tired out
we’d join the student teachers
sit around their camp fire
where they’d
talk about peace and love
and teach us hippy songs like
Kumbaya and
Blowing in the wind.

~*~

© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

LOL Some of my ….good old days.

*The images are all from Google but, our Adventure playground was much the same. There was nothing built by anyone official to do with making ‘safe’ playground for kids back then. It was all rough and ready and….a huge adventure to us kids who weren’t too scared of getting hurt.  LOL

Shared with Poets United Think Tank #97 Playground