my mermaid soul fears the sea,
the depths from which she came,
but the time is now to tumble turn,
to dive, to lose, to gain
Just when I’m about to give up on a creative life,
things from nature remind me of who I am and what I’m here to do…
The pale, pert optimism of spring daffodils
that always come up, no matter what, each spring.
The rustle of breeze against branch, a shiver of nature
that brings goosebumps when I’m aligned with my truth.
And a sudden, surprising deer, stopping in its path to pause and stare:
An emblem of creative spirit come to visit.
If I were a cloud I would love all my shapes,
shifting and wisping and forming with joy.
If I loved all my shapes I would welcome all change
and flow in harmony with the sky and the stars.
If I welcomed all change I’d feel freer to fly,
to carry aloft my dreams and ideas.
If I felt freer to fly I would grow my wings wide
and glide through the arc of a rainbow.
Second-guessing makes me lose my own mind.
Yet I spend my life seeking approval from outside.
Pleasing others is a fault in my design.
I’ve begun projects then ended up frozen,
unable to complete an abandoned idea.
Second-guessing makes me lose my own mind.
Reading minds is a skill I think I’ve mastered
but it leaves my creative output empty.
Pleasing others is a fault in my design.
I’d love to roam free in the land of imagination
freeing my thoughts to dance on the page.
But second-guessing makes me lose my own mind.
I can’t take the critic, it pierces and bleeds
my fragile self to the point I submit.
Pleasing others is a fault in my design.
I’ve spent my life waiting for the outside judge
to give a thumbs-up to my latest fudge.
Second guessing makes me lose my own mind.
Pleasing others is a fault in my design.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 5: write a poem in the form of a villanelle
What message for me in this fleeting fragment of spring?
Street illuminations shift the softness of blossom
to the moodiness of night.
The pink-white petals cluster in midnight suspense
like candy floss clumps skewered through the dark.
I twizzle my blinds,
the streetlight dazzles my walls with slats
and what do I sense?
A springtime promise, all hopeful and pert,
an epitome of creative grace?
Or a reminder of potential soon to be lost,
a petal carpet of regret to embrace?
NaPoWrimo2019 Day 2: Resisting closure by ending on a question
Eye the world with wonder.
Envy beautiful things.
View others take that leap of faith
while you watch from the side-linings.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 1: Instruction Manual
Pic copyright: alphaspirit
Come see with me, as the spring light fades,
a delicate pale dusk that hints at May,
a gentle hue that shimmers through
the retreating winter mists.
Come hear with me, as the birds make nests,
a caw and cackle from beaks unseen,
above me the drone of planes in flight,
beside me the sounds of nature stirring.
Come smell with me, as mowers emerge
from musty mould of damp old sheds,
to give a lawn its first shear of the year,
the encouraging scent of freshly chopped grass.
Come feel with me, the patio touch
of a lilac cushion, smooth bumps of rattan,
a still cool breeze upon the skin,
as fingers graze the pot-plant petals.
Come taste with me, this springtime zest,
let ice-chilled soda sparkle your throat,
the tang of past no longer bitter,
now savour feeling alive.