A dance with emotions

 Poem for Poets and Storytellers United

A dance with emotions

Do emotions lead my life?
Like sadness when it drips
along my body like honey
sweet and sticky
Sadness sifted from
memories of times
when living close to
the stars and crashing waves
broke on the shore
to be taken by the outgoing tide

Do emotions lead my life? 
Like keys of the piano
unlock my heart
turn on the fire inside
Burning the mundane
I bury its ashes
The embers of beauty
still smouldering
I walk on stilts
above the bodies
of the frozen ghosts 
feeling fiery and free

Do emotions lead my life? 
When I watch the state
of a weeping world
Tears of men merging
into an ever-swelling sea
where predators ruled by greed
strike out with their tentacles
like an ink fish
staining my spirit
clouding me with
anxiety and anger

Do emotions lead my life? 
When I build dreams on 
water where words drift
Its characters 
intimate secrets
woven into patterns
presenting the petals
around a face with 
a soft yellow glow 
revealing the joy 
resembling the sun

Do emotions lead my life?
Often I tiptoe around them
till they sweep me off my feet
till I fall into it full face again

Flower Girl

Poets and Storytellers United

We have nice Spring weather so I am out a lot. One of the things we went to was The Rusty Acre, a beautiful sculpture garden close to Christchurch. I loved the sculptures which inspired me to write poems 

Thanks Duta for the idea for the last Stanza

Artist Allan O'Loughlin

Flower girl

It is the moon casting a shadow
over a petite pale grey girl

His tender kisses erase her voice
erase the lows in her life

and the voices of an organ fill
the fast space of the cathedral
growing to a crescendo

After the music is long gone
the shadow remains
Your quest for life a tedious task

Today, you ask me
How can I move forwards
without the scent of love?

Bombs of critique
have cratered your landscape
The beat and bicker of your inner voice
have chopped away your being

A layer of fresh and vivid
earth is left along the base
In the depth of who you are grows
kindness on fertile ground as

a soothing sensation
which lingers like a brush
of the wing of a hummingbird

Look, the sun has risen
You carry her colour of light and love
You are strong, woman
climb to the top and flower

Surrender

 

Prompt The eye of the hurricane for Poets and Storytellers United

I consider myself a spiritual person, especially in nature I have some spiritual moments. I asked the universe recently: “How can I become more spiritual”? Soon after I had some spare time and some unread stuff on my kindle. The first book I read was all about surrender.  The writer tells his life story and accepts everything coming in his life and deals with it good or bad. The next book I read talked in a slightly different way about surrender. They seem to use it at AA meetings. Sometimes you are not able to get things under control as it is too hard, then leave it and surrender to God, the universe, divine love or whatever name you choose and just ask for help. That was a book from Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I bought it as I love her poem.
In an article on the internet I again bumped into a paragraph about surrender, to just let things go.

Now that must have been a sign There was my answer. Nothing harder than give up control though 😊 So I had to write a poem about surrender and wove the eye of the hurricane in there.

Surrender

I cannot help but stop
look at the unremembered sky
vaulted roof of the earth
holder of golden stars

I return to the same space
on life’s spiral stair case
I drift in dreams, a cluster of clouds
opening to the cosmos around

The light trickles through
I remain untouched
Till I hear music
a celestial echo

springing from my soul
The infinite opens inside
A beam of light to guide
For years I tried to ride

the skies to find warmer climes
as a seed on the breath of a breeze
Now it all seems futile
I surrender to the wind

go with the soft summer air
look in the eye of a hurricane
come sun, come rain
I surrender to the divine

let it fill the empty room
where I become a tool
of the great mechanic
who leads me where I need to be

Ps

Just after I finished this post I received a phone call that a well respected colleague died, far too young. I worked closely with him for a long time.  Puts me straight to the test: to accept anything....?  RIP Greg. 

Paper is patient

Paper is patient

Pristine white welcoming
a string of ideas
waiting for the birth
of one bead at the time
each like a little prayer on a rosary
each settling in the fertile ground
softly unfolding your truth as

Paper is patient
It doesn’t move on, nor ignore
when words shyly hide inside
when words take away your pride
as they pretend to be absent
and you silently scream
hey, I have something to say
Then turn to paper as

Paper is patient
Take time to explore
the maze in your mind
twist and turn away
from the path of daily pursuits
Don’t abandon your treasures inside
but trust them to empty sheets when you
arrive at the other side of the threshold as

Paper is patient

Peacock Feathers

 

Artist Patricia Allingham Carlson

Peacock feathers

Often my days are dull, covered in dust
Hours creep forwards in grey colours
moving in a robot like fashion
Wind wafting an everyday smell while
I yearn for the fragrance
of exotic flowers
I yearn for taking spoons full
of undiscovered lush land
with fern trees sticking
out their feathery fingers
to touch me with a tingling thrill
I yearn for hanging out
with poets and philosophise
on the café terrace under starry skies
where the wine whispers secrets
transforms us into soulful sages
with young hearts, beating wildly
to the rhythm of the flamenco
Our scarlet skirts waving away worlds worries
I yearn to pull the curtains
to jump on the stage of life
and say hey if this is the last role I play
I do it with verve
I fan my peacock feathers
I play a drum roll to wake you
to a zest for life
like a tulip bud longs to open
to show it’s colours
Go and blossom and I will too
Now dig out the courage

Past meets present

Past meets present

My fingers touch and trace a face on a photo
a memory muddling my mind and I think of
a time when the streets were injected with
innocence and lined with dwellings
build on dreams fragile as frail old ladies,
Light as a feather we moved through life
swayed like sunflowers in a summer breeze,
spilling wine, love and strawberry kisses

We had no depth but darkness bore a hole,
a hole carved like a black barrel 
I got blinded by the night, craving for
the light, leaving you behind
My soul became visible and the
wind called me towards a new
destiny where love lands like a flock of
birds spreading their wings in delight

Today, the wisdom I gained lost some
of its gravity as I longed for lightness
These days I dip my fingers into honey
to sweeten your lips and whisper
words on paper, like Aroha, which
dances like a tender tango on my tongue
which takes off into the world,
to soften a spirit into serenity