As you find yourself
Chasing after your dreams
Bringing life to your desires
There’s a meanwhile
That encircles you
Our Creator, Our God
He knows best
He wants for us
What will exceed
Our highest expectations
Dear one,
Fret not,
Over what’s on the other side of the fence
But in the meantime
Floating in the meanwhile
Be content, and also ready yourself
For a forever blessing
When the going gets tough
There and then
A pouring, of what we’re made of
No one looks at the bird in flight
To make mention of its fatigue
But let same bird see a falling
Poor bird, with ruffled feathers
When the going gets tough
You keep going, soaring high like the bird
Till you meet ground
Poor fellow, with a few hiccups
You’ve seen a falling?
Get up, you forlorn one
And try again, that you may fly
To heights you once knew
Trust, like a tree in autumn
Questioned by the unknown
I know I can trust you, but…
Said branches to leaves
Said leaves to branches
Trust may break
Trust may be shaken
Trust may be lost, completely
Like a leaf in autumn,
One may feel betrayed
When suddenly let go
By whom they thought as their backbone
High up on cloud nine
Left to a plunging, cold fall
Like a branch in autumn
One may be shockingly abandoned
By leaves that leave
One may be made a fool of
By leaves that threaten to leave
That may be you, shaken, broken inside
Trust, like a tree in autumn
Broken by the unpredictable
I know I can trust you, but…
A day at a time
A tear that will dry
There is a reason,
There is a season
But still there is despair
A hug to say all is fine
A word of encouragement
To calm a racing mind
But there will still be that moment
Hands in pockets, and emptiness felt
Such is a revisiting sorrow
That comes in waves
Such is a daunting anxiety
That comes uninvited
Such is the guilt felt
For shifting the mood
So I ask that you bear with me
You jolly soul, best friend, confidant
One day it may be well
One day the pockets may be filled
With something other than emptiness
Something worth remembering,
Something that will carve a smile
The little things
Do make the difference
It has taken some years
But the eyes now see this
Some fancy jewels
But she, a reading chair
For the lustre many seek after
Is second to a great novel
The little things
Do make the difference
Like a bowl of macaroni and milk
To appease the hunger pangs
Some prefer take out
But she, a home cooked meal
Because temporary delicacies
Wear out this body, her temple
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
To know that, she’s had you
Over and over
I want to understand
When you say you’re committed
Just how many times must I have you
To teach your body something new?
I say that I’m fine, but these words…
Need undoing , revealing that I’m not
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
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 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
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 ?”
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
There are so many eyes on me
So many stares, so many labels
There’s something about black
Black sunglasses
Boosted confidence?
Possibly
Black to go with everything?
Definitely
Protection from harmful sun rays?
Guaranteed
But none of these is the reason
For my copping of a pair
For as timeless as they may have made me out to be
There was something that I didn’t want the world to see
I know a thing or two
About broken wells
Consequence
Of a broken heart
Quenching their thirst
I know a thing or two
About the broken-hearted
Drawing and drawing,
The well, almost bare.
And when broken, none seems to care
I know a thing or two
About these two, broken well, broken heart
But I wish I had earlier known
That one would leave
Right after the mend and quench
We witness masterful art,
In a breathless moment.
The world stops,
Because even it…
Couldn’t have imagined,
Something as idyllic,
As a thought provoking Score
bowendiaries 