Rainwater

With each step
we write our lives
with quills dipped in rainwater
for as soon as it is written
it fades under the glare of happiness
or is washed away by storms of solitude

The mere act of dipping
is enough to send ripples along to the roots of Gaia’s smile
where she drinks in the questions of us mortal masterpieces
for as soon as it is written
our souls, our spirits, our hearts and our minds become
lost in the frustrations of being unable to comprehend
the reasons why we are given such beauty
only for it to be washed away

The act of being kind to the rains as they fall
brings its own rewards
for when we write our lives
with quills of love
we shall be given
in return
the truth of how to live in the now moments
of how to flow over storm-crusted stepping stones of haste
and of how to write with rainwater
and know there are no answers except for those we create

When we write with rainwater
the sun shines
and the storms rage
as we breathe
know and feel
the beauty of existence

~

Another poem from before that seems to resonate with the way things are going nowadays.

From 2017 published in After the Rain.

Let the good break free

break free

 

I’m back to work on Monday after a month off recovering from a small procedure in hospital where I had a stent fitted.

With my time off I’ve not done much writing but have read more and relaxed. With this time I’ve seen the good and the bad of humans during this crisis.

Some of the good I’ve seen is people helping by keeping in touch even if it’s just a simple text and shops with the cashiers being on the front line seeing many hundreds if not thousands each day but still soldiering on.

The bad is the scouring of the shelves and people buying to sell at ridiculously high prices but one which affected me the most was a message on Twitter saying (in a conversation about death rates between young and old) …Old people are old. They’re supposed to die when they get ill… I was shocked and upset by this but I’ve let it pass now.

I try to dwell on the good and not the negatives.

A tingle of chemistry

soul's voice

There is someone for each of us, and maybe we should listen to the breeze, or be more open to those subtle moments, or maybe we should be brave and say “Hello”.

However we find love, our soulmate, our friend we must be able to allow them to find us too because if we let our souls go on that romance trek then we must also allow our feelings their freedom to show who we are and so let our colours merge to paint a tingle of chemistry.

Struggle

We struggle through our time
we see so much of the things we’d rather not see
we look upon each moment with a feeling of fear
and yet, here we are
living and loving through our time
seeing and making things we love
and with feeling, feeling
with feeling we strike at the heart of fear
and see that its blood, its soul
struggles just like us

for things to survive
even that pretty little flower
there has to be a struggle

Life, you see, isn’t so easy
it takes so much effort for it to be,
look at the chick breaking through the shell

Look at a baby pushing its way out
and listen to the mother and just feel her effort
and hear that cry, that primal scream from those tiny lungs

Why do we make it such a struggle
do we forget our first call while still covered in life’s blood
all that effort we made to live
only for us to live in fear of our neighbours

and yet, here we are
living and loving through our time
seeing and making things we love
with feeling, feeling …

Open arms

A new decade is upon us
It is ready to open its arms
to those who welcome it
with love.

Give without expectations
Feel with honesty
Live without
Seek within
Be brave once in a while

And love
because without it
the clock stops here.