A dream

I have been watching a favourite movie (Mamma Mia), listening to Abba's "I have a dream" and thinking about dreams.  Weaving waking and sleeping dreams together brought this, which I thought I would share for Poetry Palace's Poet's Rally Week 59, although it isn't Freeverse in form, it is somewhat free in subject. Enjoy, then hop on over to the rally for more fine verse.

A dream

I had a dream, a song to sing

A starving wolf who trusted me

Pursued by dogs to tear her throat

I lifted her to set her free

Safely borne by hidden breeze

On soul-taut strings in cool glade

Soaked in hues both rich and pure

Where thought could heal within the shade

Resting, growing in the warmth

Where each leaf shimmers in the sun

Kissed by clearest drops of hope

Alight with strength, soon she’ll run

Silken paws dance deftly through

Forgotten trails will heart's fire bring

Moonlight melts in the rainbow’d sun:

I have a dream, a song to sing.

Heartsong

This is  a piece I wrote a couple of years ago, but having had a really special Christmas this year, it called to mind the joy and thankfulness of this poem.  So, here is to everyone at  Gooseberry Garden, and dVerse, my two favourite poetic communities, as we stand poised on the brink of 2012....

Heartsong

Breeze sighing through golden wheat,

The paddock shimmering in the heat;

A horse's steady clop and the saddle's creak,

These are joyful whispers that I seek.

The sand's gentle squeak on my local shore,

The comforting tumble of the ocean's roar;

Laughter of my children as they splash and play,

These are joyful chants that warm my day.

The soothing tones of piano keys,

Caressing Celtic melodies;

Pure, clear voices in harmony,

All these, too, sing joy to me.

Magpie song, kookaburra's glee,

The call of the parrots in my gum tree;

The calming thrum of rain above,

Yet more of the joyful sounds I love.

My cat's purring warmth on my feet,

My husband's steady heart beat,

my sleepy children's goodnight calls,

These give me joy as each night falls.

But through each of these, in every note,

I hear the joy my Saviour wrote,

And deep within, I pause to sing

Reverent praise in awe to Him. 

Wonder

This is the first year that my children have been old enough to anticipate Christmas but still young enough to have that delightful sense of wonder.  My daughter (5) in particular, is in such a state of excitement about life as a whole at the moment, that Christmas almost pales in comparison.  

I appreciate Hedgewitch's comments on Christmas at dVerse this week, and so this poem seemed appropriate to share. 

Wonder

“Quick, come quickly!  Come and see! “

Joyfully, she calls to me,

Immersed in wonder, bathed in light,

Entwined in flutters of delight.

She scampers, dancing through the grass

Stooping,  laughing,  shooting past

And watching her, my heart expands

With love, as I reach for her hand.

Her smile lights up her face and eyes

As she unwraps each new surprise

Hidden in the earth and sky,

And catching clouds that pass her by.

I would love to hear your thoughts, and after you comment, please hop on over to dVerse to read some outstanding poetry.  Merry Christmas to you all - the kind of Christmas that is full of meaning, not just tinsel.  

Comic Conundrum

My children are of an age where comic superheros really appeal to them.  After 3 days of running around the house pretending to be Iron Man and solve all the world's problems, this poem seemed appropriate to share for this week's Poetry Rally.  So please, I would love to hear what you have to say, but then pop over to the Rally for some more exciting poems!

Comic Conundrum

BAM!! KERPOW!!!!!!!!
Life seems so simple
in the comic book world
of absolutes. 
Evil is always honest
in its deception
never hidden by
gentle smiles
or hearts that truly mean well.

If only the mirror
spoke the soul's state
reflected in the folds and creases
of flesh like a sign
on the forehead
“Well meaning fool – don't listen”
or
“Will cut you down as compost
to feed my soul”
a grotesque comic art
of Dorian Grey

Oh no, life isn't simple
black and white
distilled prose
and chromatic cartoons

Draw carefully now
let life touch those lines
with an infinite complexity
and depth of hue

Find your sight.

I have just heard that I have been honoured with the "Perfect Poet's Award" from the Poetry Rally for this week!  Thank you folks! :)

Goodbye

I think we are sometimes too willing to let a friendship die through misunderstanding. How does this fit this week's Gooseberry Garden theme of 'memories, nostalgia and family'?  Well, perhaps those things might make the difference when we are tempted to say goodbye. I hope they do.

Goodbye

I saw two friends say goodbye today

I watched them smile and drift away

Politely agree there was nothing to say

In sorrow, saw each turn her own way

Each unconcerned mask on a pain pinched face

Tears shimmered unseen, disappeared without trace

Each rigid step then widened the space

With shoulders held high, to quicken the pace

Why did this friendship that once was so rare

Let something dissolve what they each held so dear

Why did each one's desire, so seemingly clear

Tremulously echo somewhere they couldn't hear?

To be a blessing

This is definitely one of my more emotional poems. It is honest, sure, but the question is - is it emotional, or just plain sentimental?  I am very thankful for the opportunity at dVerse this week to get some constructive feedback on that very issue.  So, don't be shy!  And thank you Victoria, for this great opportunity to improve my writing. 


To be a blessing
"greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father..."  John 14:12

How can it be that we will do greater?
What will You do with the things that You gave?
How can a life that is squandered and tawdry
Bring forth the impact and meaning I crave?

So long I have believed there is nothing of value
Wanting to give, but ashamed of the gift
So often retreated alone in confusion
Fear smashing hope, shipwrecked, adrift.

Watching it creeping like poisonous algae
Sickening taint of shame spreading ill
Under the glare of perfection's harsh sunlight
Blooming in too sluggish pools of good will.

Weeping as gifts that were given in earnest
Corrupted by panic, writhing in pain
Soiled beyond reason, beyond all redemption
I've turned good to dust, echoed Midas' bane.

There is One, only One, who can cleanse where I muddy
Turn ashes to beauty, restore what I spoil
So Lord, take my mourning and somehow, with mercy
Anoint these hands' work with joy's holy oil.

Let your grace empty my heart of this algae
Your purpose and hope, my vision now sear
The talents You gave me, to shine for Your glory
Flowing in love, 'til these waters run clear.

Regret

This is posted for Magpie Tales - another great photo from Tess!  Thank you, once again, Tess for hosting this.

photo: Christine Donnier-Valentin, taken from Magpie Tales

Regret

Even the bricks weep

Blackened tears of anguish

Staining regret in gentle silence.

I will not heed their sorrow

They cannot know the faded years

Scuffed velvet and the imprint

of a thousand heads against

time's listing frame.

I once took pride of place

The deep red softness

sighing treasured comfort

in cosy evenings for two by the fire.

Then crooning wearily through colicky nights

Lending my strength to nudge

solace into sleep.

Later still, gentle sponging removing

sticky jam prints to preserve

my fabric's hue

against the tide of living.

Growing, ever growing

Each passing season

Faithfully bearing

time's gradual pressure.

Some days I feel their weight

twisting these old bones beyond endurance

shrivelled and stripped bare

of cushions like an old whore

left naked in day's harsh glare

Discarded

on some forgotten side walk of life.

I stand proud, wings held high

back (almost) straight

against the uncaring whip of hours

and as the wind mocks

the loneliness of what I have become

I close my eyes to the sting

And remember what I once was.

Wild

This poem is from the prompt at dVerse for today.  As always, there is a swathe of excellent poems there and I hope you will take a moment to link back and have a read for yourself!
I have been thinking for some time about the dangers of allowing the 'inner self' out and so this sat rather nicely with the excellent prompt from dVerse for today.  The post there simply focused all of these thoughts into this poem: 

Wild

The eye glints

Endless craving,

Crying though each beat of pounding blood

Restless seeking

Each nerve thrumming with

Anticipated adventure.

Longing

Fleeing

Seeking

Precious water soaking dusty, parched lands

Do you not know, O traveller

That the wilderness you seek

Is your soul?

Steel glints

Endless stalking,

Thrilling through each tread of silent feet

Raging conquest

Each muscle tense with

Longing for the chase

Tracking

Slashing

Subduing

Crimson life-blood staining ravished, cold lands

Do you not know, O hunter

That the beast you seek to vanquish

Lies within?

Pleasing Others

About 4 weeks ago, I prayed that the Lord would break me of the dreadful fear of rejection by those I care about - that He would break me of being a people pleaser.  You know, that panic and terror that says "I cannot bear to think that (anyone I care about) is alive in this world and thinking ill of me."  After one of the toughest weeks of my life, where I was placed in a position where silently doing what I felt was right, meant risking the good opinion of some of my favourite people (not being able to explain to them), fighting not to justify myself to all and sundry, something in me broke, and I chose silence. 

I want to share this for Gooseberry Garden this week, despite writing it last week.  I believe that such changes as this bring hope - at least, they do to me!  I can think of nothing better to share for 'change, hope', even if it doesn't match November and Winter.  Hope you enjoy! 

On the death of pleasing others

There comes a moment

When all hope is lost.

You know you tried your best

But still

The words fell like rain

on wind tossed seas

vanished, unnoticed

into the depths

There comes a moment

When you stand

silent

still

beyond trying

to halt the flood

of opinion

filling the creaking hold

faster than you can bail

and you realise

that there came a moment

when with a mighty crack

approbation's mast

splintered and crashed

into the storm

wrenching tattered sails

of obsequiousness

with fear's coiled ropes

from this battered hulk

of shipwrecked regard.

In that moment

will self worth cling

to rotting timbers, smashing

against the rocks of others' views?

Or will realisation dawn

that you are not that wrecked vessel

and yielding in relief

loosen your frantic grip

as it slides to final rest

far beneath the broiling surface

Only then, with lightened heart

can you float alone

finding your feet on pristine shores

in jewelled seas

Free at last.

Childhood

This week's Gooseberry Garden challenge is about childhood.  A prickly subject indeed.  I am including three poems here, presenting three very different aspects of childhood.  I have included 'Dark Awakening' because unfortunately, childhood means abuse to so many.  'Belonging' explores a less sinister, but still very sad aspect of childhood for so many.  And finally, I have included 'A Friend' because I want to hold out the hope that even in the midst of darkness, comfort and friendship comes from unlikely places. 
I would love to hear your comments - good criticism is essential to growth and I appreciate your insights no end, but also if you want to share on any of these aspects of childhood, please do.

Dark Awakening

Detachment: Dreamer spies
through heavy-lidded eyes –
two joyful, faceless forms
are dancing, mesmerized.

Bemusement: Sleeper stirs
to ponder what enthralls –
a tattered, worthless heap
of rag against the wall?

Confusion: Muser hears
with fast-perceiving ears –
the leaping figures’ rage,
their snarling, stabbing jeers.

Discomfort: Listener sees
with painful clarity –
each slashing, vicious step
of cruel insanity.

Abhorrence: Watcher feels
with growing disbelief –
the Life within the rag
of broken, frozen grief.

Revulsion: Soul recoils
in horror, truth remains –
and with a sobbing breath
awakens to the pain.

********************

Belonging

Apart, alone, so different

She sits and tries to pretend

That she doesn't see the stares

Doesn't feel the snubs

Doesn't hear the message they send

But deep in her soul, where nobody sees

The pain throbs behind closed doors

The wounds in her soul

Inflicted each day

Reveal she is losing this war

The tears that she cries, dry unseen in her eyes

Freeze her heart but can't stop her longing

for friends of her own,

some place safe to call home,

Those who want her: a sense of belonging.

*******************************************

A friend

Through the gate and down the high street

Past rows of houses to the village outskirts

Cool red brick and sun dappled hedges dissolve

Into quiet green havens on rich loamy dirt.

A dream carries me

I peddle down trails towards this oasis

Calmly expectant of what will be there

Shimmering coats cloaking elegant forms

Long flowing tails and nostrils that flare

I long to see

Bike leaned against the old wooden fence posts

I snatch at cool grass, quickly filling my fist

Sneaking one hand past heavenly gates

Held open, revealing juicy grass wisps

And I wait…

Watching each move of these beautiful creatures

Gleaming in sunlight, whether chestnut or bay

Hoping they’ll come to eat this poor offering

Before casual breezes steal it away.

And it is too late

Sometimes each step as they graze slowly brings them

Near to the fence that forever divides

And my heart lifts in hope that I’ll briefly taste freedom

Whispered in snuffles of horse-murmured sighs

Of understanding

Warm neck of soft satin, smoothing my fingers

Steadfast heart calmly echoing low

Gentle companionship soothing my soul

Nickers of comfort and peacefulness flow.

And my soul sings.

I see in his soft eye galloping meadows

Joyful canters through pine scented trees

Feeling the ground churned by his hooves

The breeze swirling with him amongst dancing leaves

Without end.

He shares all of these for a handful of grass

And crops there beside me, just over the fence

And I bathe in his presence as minutes slip slowly

Enthralled by his beauty, lost in the scent

Of a friend.

Risen Moon

I have an interesting relationship with the moon. At times I have written about it in a very negative light.  This one celebrates its beauty and complexity, and hope.

Risen Moon

Rose tipped clouds drift in lazy splendour

Weary sun slides in its nightly bath

Sighs its fatigues of the worn out day.

Moon tiptoes silently down her path

Tonight, her face seems richer in beauty

Tonight, I see her with wiser, clear sight

She stills shines softly in silver skirts

But I also see swirls of refracted light.

And I'm touched by the hope that these rainbow hues

Will caress all that lies in her gentle glow

Lighting the night, as darkness melts

Into star sparkled tides that sing and flow.

Renaissance

I had a wonderful opportunity to spend today with a friend and artist, who opened my eyes to new possibilities in art, hence an art rebirth for me. 

I thought I would share this for dVerse this week, so happy open link night! 

Renaissance

Her eyes are like water

Gently lapping

Contemplation

Into the still pool

drops

a

new

thought

Pigment isn't rigid purpose -

lines and value, tone and composition each justified

but instead

expression

in

pure

honest

colour

of her soul.

doe-gentle brush

verdant pigment

luminous paper

flowing water

rippling

in

celebration

of

Life.

Summer Comes

The challenge at dVerse this week is a lovely one of Colour and there is nothing more colourful to me right now than the coming of our summer (yes, even including the drying grasses and soil!).  So, firstly, thank you, Victoria for a great prompt and secondly.... 

 

Summer Comes

Jacarandas splash their gentle accent against a cobalt sky,

Cicadas chirrup in pale sienna, against the wheaten rye.

With washes of vibrant intensity, the sun calls forth each hue...

and the warmth shines through.

Gum trees soak the canvas now, in swirls of olive green,

with bark of burnt sienna and deepest ultramarine.

They soften as they touch the sky, diffuse amongst the blue...

and the light shines through.

Parrots cry their freedom in brilliant rainbow ease,

With gorgeous accents here and there, they braid the sky and trees.

They mingle with the softer edge, but keep their colours true...

and the life shines through.

The atmosphere sings golden in the sun's aureolin glow,

it warms every pigment that it touches high or low.

As it spreads throughout the land, it wakens life anew...

and the summer shines through.

Suffering and Sorrow

Although this only remotely connects with figments and fidelity (from this week's Gooseberry Garden), I have to share it.  Every so often, I grieve for the people around me, whose lives seem filled with suffering - some through their own choices, some through circumstances, some through the terrible choices of others, many through a combination of all those things. When this happens, (after I have done whatever I can do to help on a practical level), I often reach this point:

Sorrowful

The World's sorrow seems close to the surface today,

Under evil, I sense her reel and sway.

The groan of a thousand tortured lips

Wrest slumber from my tenuous grip -

Whispered gasps of moonlit tears

As she holds close her child, whose breath disappears

His frail body, ravaged by cruel disease

At last, in death, has found its ease.

“You worthless whore, you should be dead”

Lies echo unceasingly 'round in her head,

Their poisonous phrases spurn all her pleas,

Under their venom, hope shatters and flees.

“You loser, why can't you do anything right?!”

Her loathing contempt, bleeds him of might

Dejected and angry, he walks out the door

Self esteem shattered, he cannot bear more.

Wordless shrieks from a mind caged by fear

Huddled alone as his footsteps draw near

Dreading the touch of his incestuous hands

Powerless to escape his vile commands.

Relationships strained, innocents scarred

Bitterness causing hearts to grow hard

Fury and terror, trials and stress

Trying to survive each day nonetheless.

Their pain shudders through the cracks in their mask

Answering questions that I cannot ask

The darkness in lives, tangled and torn

Tonight leaves me grieving, burdened and worn.

So instead, I come to the foot of the cross

Knowing my Lord bled and died for their loss

Trusting that He'll bind each sorrow-pierced heart

Praying for comfort and healing to start.

For I've felt His balm in my life's pain

His whispers of comfort and love, like the rain

Gently cleansing the lies in my mind

Lifting me up, His freedom to find

So I pray for those voices that cry in the night

Asking that one day, they come to His light

Pray for the words to comfort each one

To offer them hope, revealing the Son.

Roses budding

This poem is something I wrote a little while ago, but I wanted to share it for a special invitation I received to join a rally at The Poetry Palace.  Thanks, Orange Tree, and I hope you enjoy this one. 



Rose
Beginning to blossom, a delicate rose bud

She waits for the tide to wash away the mud,

Wide eyed and hopeful, like a pearl in the sand

Then tenderly she carries it, cradled in her hands.

Like a child chasing butterflies, she runs up the path

Wonder enlightening, and she begins to laugh

As the sun burns brightly in joyous azure skies

I watch her hopeful seeking with tears in my eyes.

Helpless to stop her, as she tries to share her find

One after another, they turn away, blind

She wilts, tears glistening, hands drooping beside

And turns away alone again, her treasure to hide.

I call her name, she turns to me, with sorrow in her eyes

I reach to her, and gently start to brush away the lies -

Lies that tell her she has nothing worthy to impart

And like a balm, I whisper words of truth to her heart.

I tell her how I glimpse the beauty cradled in her hands

I tell her how God made those pearls, glinting in the sands

And as the waves of truth wash away rejection’s mud

The heart revealed in her hand’s a delicate rose bud.

Desert Night

I want to share this new poem for dVerse this week, and as always, I am looking forward to a feast of poetry there.  Sometimes, I meet someone who reminds me of the desert - energy sapping heat or plummeting temperatures in the night, with a brief few hours of relief.  I wrote this with the desert in mind, but I do have to wonder about desert souls too...

Desert Night

Bitter wind-whispers echo loneliness
Whistling their derision through the scant grass
Their cold unconcern slices through parched skin
Leaching warmth with each sabre’s pass

The red dirt hides its mineral wealth
Deep below the flint-hard face
No quarter will be given in searing day
No comfort lies in the night’s embrace

But if you wait until the sun sets
Above the hush of the fleeing heat
Listen to this barren desert
Hear the plea beneath your feet

Though its heart sneers at your frailty
Mutters impatiently, finding fault
Its hatred comes from heat worn years
Spilled hope lost with each weary jolt

Perhaps one day gentle rains will come
Compassion soaking the drought-stiff ground
Sprouting beauty in delicate colour
As seeds of new life and hope abound.

The Gift

Over the years I have had a myriad of excuses for a total lack of ambition and belief in my abilities.  I think it is time to face a reality that there are, actually, things that I can do relatively well, and to acknowledge that those things do not come from any merit on my own part, but rather are part of who I was made to be. So here is my offering for dVerse this week.

The gift

Sometimes, as I lift my eyes from the hills

to lose myself in daily uncertainties

I long

For the wisdom of knowing Your will

But then

I wonder, if it isn’t instead

that I long

for the patience

to wait for Your time

Or the courage

to move when it comes

But then

If I am honest, I know

that I fear

the beauty of the purpose

You have shown me

Daring to hope for

The faith to believe

You have given me

This gift.

Somewhere

 

I actually wrote this last week, but this week's Magpie prompt (thanks once again, Tess!) just kicked these emotions to the front in full force again.  Definitely feeling a bit city bound at the moment. And when that happens, when I am tired, my thoughts fly to moonlit nights in the countryside.  A bit  idyllic, I suppose, but that's fine by me :)  I hope you enjoy it too.

Somewhere

Somewhere

Beyond the lamplight’s baleful glare

Stars sing silently

Somewhere

Beyond the concrete’s looming hulk

Planets flicker endlessly

Somewhere

Beyond the slick surface of civilisation

The universe gazes patiently

I stand unmoving

The pavement’s cracked inflexibility

Lashing city bound feet

That groan with longing

For release.

 I question the moon

Faint and alone in the orange glow

That hides the sparkle of galaxies

Around her.

Her answer calls me

Where my feet cannot take me.

As I close my eyes, my vision flees

Beyond the street’s impartial prison

Into the night.

            *          *          *

I watch her pale eyes dissolving the ties

Binding me to the roads down below

And hear on the breeze, the whisper of trees

Entreating and pleading, insisting I follow

Their murmuring branches soften and sigh

Their rustling leaves brush and sweep through my hair

I slip from their chatter to bark that is gleaming

Its smooth imperfections by moonlight laid bare

I breathe in its promise of moist verdant fullness

Resounding from trunk to the roots deep and low

Then dance on the scent of sun softened earth

Life springing soil caressing each toe.

I splash from its warmth to the hush of the ocean

That rush silken waters to welcome my feet

Cleansing life’s grime as its saltiness carries me

Heaven gleams brighter and burdens retreat.

And so with a sigh of longing contentment

This respite slips quietly out of my hand.

Seeing the stars growing dim in their splendour

I whisper a gentle adieu to this land

My eyes open once more on daily existence

Buoyed by those moments of peace in the night

Whose stars gilt the rivers 'neath luminous trees

And murmuring oceans reflect the moon’s light.