Inspired By Thaxted

Dawn sweep away the perils

That chided me in sleep

Praying and crying out, though nasal

My Saviour, He hears me weep


Turned on side, pillowing my fears

The stillness, so loud, envelops

Reminded of a hymn to repress the tears

Gathering courage, to never give up hope


The day is bursting through

And the remnants of night, they fade

Flee away you woe, perhaps one or two

For today we choose joy, and will not trade

Miss Shelly

Miss Shelly

I call her

For she’s spared these eyes

A humbling moment


I hope that I too

Will someday be a Miss Shelly

She’s clothed in dungarees, blonde hair in a messy bun

She cradles her wee one, who’s also matching her khaki jacket


Miss Shelly

Ever so protective

Very much the doting mother

She loves on her little one


And me? I watch

Till his eyes meet mine

Baby chuckles in delight

What a wonderful sight to behold


Ah Miss Shelly!

She’d do anything for him

She’d put herself last

Miss Shelly, go on and be blessed


And I can’t help but think

Of all the purest connections

My eyes have made

With the very young and innocent


I wish they’d remember

I wish that, this could someday make them smile

I wish they’d know, how for a few minutes

They had made a stranger’s day

Blues

In a world of chaos

Some are choosing their blues

The big ones, the little ones

And they ponder in recluse

So be wary and considerate

That you know not their fate

For some have slept

Only to wake and walk

Walking, but not existing

For some have dreamt

A thousand dreams, yet still sulk

Moping in misery

And for some, they are hoping

For a glimpse of a miracle

Hands clasped tightly

As they mumble prayers of petition

And as for the writer,

She cries out for reassurance

Tonight, feeling weighted more

By the littlest of blues

He held her close…

He held her close and she lay her head on his chest. The silence competing with the tension, till the latter could no longer bear it. Counting three breaths, she mouthed, “Are you sure we’re not lost in ourselves?”

He held her close and she cuddled up to him, like a koala baby and its mother. In that moment, nothing could shift attention from a bond, formed over distance, over texts, over a forged, genuine love. A bond, now released to temperaments and the intricacies of the human connection

He held her close and they experienced a feeling so familiar, previously emanating in waves, now static. This was home, their home. This love had traveled and finally arrived at its final destination. Sunflowers had always been her favourite. Today in full fictitious bloom, they gave their approval. Joy has cometh

Night of…

Night of laments

So why do I see the stars?

For every mistake, a choice I made


Night so contoured

Why do I sense hope?

The haze, slowly fading into the horizon


Night, of…restoration

Certainly must be

Regrets are in the distant

Someday

Someday, worried one

You’ll find the light

Someday, wretched one

You’ll be on the other side


Through the swampy marsh

Over the land mines

Past the naysayers

Beyond any obstacle


Someday, somehow

You’ll rejoice, where the light resides

How many more sighs

Gone are the hours of yesterday

And dawn, knocks behind the window pane

Before we let her in,

There are some matters to resolve

A worrisome heart and a pondering mind


Loud is the silence

But louder is The Voice

Beseeching and reassuring,

That we worry not about the morrow

And spare some minutes to rest


But stubborn as we are,

Owing to our human nature

We toss, turn and fret

And try to reconcile with hope,

With one question taunting, “How many more sighs, Lord ?”

While Minding My Business

A fortnight later

And he’s gifted me

A glimmer of hope

This, while simply minding my business


He could be the one

But he often disappears

Then I’m left to ponder

My only warning, being a moment’s notice


Then he reappears

As if to make amends

My heart jumping with joy

As if to tell me, “Didn’t I say so?”


Who does he think he is?

Leaving me in disarray

Telling me about his day

Then gone in a whiff


I better stay calm

Guard this heart of mine

Lest she warms up to him

For the grandest of falls


A fortnight to come

I may be left morose

And so maybe it’s time

To dish out my trusty detachment

The Best

The best is yet to come

It wasn’t today

Nor was it yesterday

Perhaps, a morrow sooner


The best is yet to come

I tell myself every day

Someday, one day

The waiting time, shortening


The best is yet to come

Said gleefully, because…

Who knows, it may very well be

Right after this utterance

ANEW

From what was a hushed night

We have now, morning

The silence remnants,

Still enveloping creek and corner


Soon it will have competition

When with sunrise, comes the bustle

And with the bustle, comes the hustle

The hustle, bringing forth a new chapter


The living are readying

To attack the day

Such zeal, such motivation

Pot scoops of such, invaluable


A brand new day

For the lonesome, the nurturers

For the caretakers, the peacemakers

Even more brilliant of a day, for a dreamer

Somewhere

Somewhere in a past time
Smiles were wide and forever
Beyond the dark clouds
We found once again, our prime

Somewhere in a moment
Home was felt
And though now an afterthought
There is no room for lament

Somewhere in the future
We shall meet again
Having conquered every rolling billow
This told, from the Creator’s aperture

Attic of hopes

Fears, aspirations, desires 
Hang in the attic, as shelled hope
Not to be seen
But now it’s hard to breathe
As the aura is strewn 
With hanging hope
Hitting against one another 

A walk in the attic
Is deemed to be bittersweet 
For broken pieces of hope 
Pierce the feet
Taut muscles constrict that visitor 
With a hazy view of what could be
Of what is left, of hanging hope.

THE FOREIGNER

–3/5–
george-marks-woman-wearing-dress-looking-in-mirror

She speaks, I listen and stare in wonder,

Poised, a whim of the moment,

Why can’t I see that this is me?

She is a voluptuous figure, curves back then mistaken to be extra pounds,

Beautiful and alluring, très étonnante, c’est moi,

The day has arrived, a whole new woman,

A free spirit, ready to delve in new beginnings,

The sad memories of the past have been shattered to pieces,

Hope for the future, is in her that I see and admire,

She has seen the best in me, helping me to my feet

But, why can’t I see that she is I?

She watches her muse, and I listen to my teacher

She claps and out of exhilaration screams at me, she is proud.

The lonesome nights will be no more, gloomy mornings have been replaced

It’s sheer bliss, he that couldn’t see the good in me, she has seen

She is I, C’est moi,

Ponder I may, but I know better, now that she is here

I’ve been cradled for long; I woke up a new woman

I kick my heels off,

Sway my body side to side,

Hugging my curtains, serenading my wall paintings,

There’s desperation to go on,

*THUMP*!

Falling down to the carpet, I can’t help but laugh at myself.

Boy oh boy, what now!

THE DREAMER

The dreamer is quiet, one to listen more than talk,

His head is full of many ideas, so many plans for the future.

 

The dreamer is cheerful, his heart never as hard as a rock,

Positivity runs his day, and each passing second, in his mind, is bred a new desire

 

The dreamer is grateful, appreciating what is given today.

He sees the beauty in the present no matter the underlying effects of any situation.

 

The dreamer is daring, but knows when to keep at bay.

Self control is a trait and any doing of his has a reason.

 

The dreamer is intelligent, not one to be taken advantage of,

He makes educated guesses and is well aware of everything around him

 

The dreamer is spiritual and meditates day in , day out, His Maker, he never scoffs,

He gives praise and honour because every new day is a blessing, and another opportunity to dream

 

The dreamer is full of confidence and believes in himself,

Discouraging opinions people have to give don’t really matter.

 

The dreamer is accurate;  in his thoughts he continuously delves,

But most importantly, the dreamer is a man of actions, and every success is a zeal booster.