self

Canvas

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this

But I tell you now, the story

Of the paint splattered canvas

Once white and bare

Awaiting kaleidoscopic ideas

Of painter, once in euphoria

It wouldn’t have ended up like this

But here is the story

Of the birth of insecurities

Once unknown, some well managed

But words sowed seeds

In a painter, once self assured

It shouldn’t have ended up like this

But the story is clear

The canvas white, no more

And awe no more, to its beholder

Because of unkind words and opinions

The painter, now in need of an inner mending

Meanwhile

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

“I know I can trust you, but…”

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…

Pockets

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

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

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

Undoing

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

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

Tower

Tower of refuge

They say You are

But to get to You,

Is going to take some effort

Lord be my helper

As I find my way to You

Tower of restoration

I’ve heard You are

But I’m deceived,

By the people so few

Lord quench the lying voices

That stay manipulating my thoughts

Tower of Purpose

Stay right where You are

Because I’m not losing You this time

Be it bend or bump on the way

I’m coming to You Lord

Sometime between sunset and sunrise

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