my eyes are totally on the prize
as I lockdown my life
I’m more focused than before
and my treasures lie beyond shore
yet the urge to mine those gems
keeps my purpose on point and aligned
in search of my treasure
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Category Archives: writing therapy
a poem for lippy
a mood is lippy on a cup of something crucial
a person’s choice of lip shows social preference
hear your red and you’re redolent with riches
touch your pink and you’re prior to other pinches
taste your lip and you’ll experience that fully
see your beaut and you’ll believe you are lovely
smell your grey and you’re grazing something truthful
listen to shade: you’ll touch your wounded core place
the rhyme of him and her
he loves her when she’s sweet and juice
she is loved when needy and loose
he takes offence when she doesn’t give truce
she feels tears as he shouts his dues
he takes hold when reaching a sluice
she holds cold, fearing an energy noose
he is truth, she is bruise
she is now, he’s set loose
NaPoWrimo Day 3 2020: playing with a word bank of rhymes
not-so-splendid isolation
what writer doesn’t crave time alone,
to write, float, feel free to create
in a world of imagined forms
yet ‘on your own’ brings up all kinds of stuff:
the thought, the feel, the sense of nothing,
the loneliness of being alone
I thought I’d welcome the time on page
that can stretch so far and deep –
yet now it’s self-pressure to perform
in my restricted bowl, with views of nought,
I have to reframe the reminder ticks
as a chance to live, to write, and transform
my mermaid soul
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
If I were enough…
If I were enough,
I would devour my here-and-now
and not hunger for some perfect future.
If I were enough,
I wouldn’t wish for someone’s fish
or scoff at what’s on my plate.
If I were enough,
I would ask for a sliceable loaf,
not nibble at leftover crumbs.
If I were enough,
I wouldn’t feast outside
to try to fill my empty insides.
I would nourish my starving soul
and my heart would be totally full…
If I were only enough.
to my younger self I gift..
To my younger self I gift
a sense of knowing I have a right to exist,
imperfect and scared as I am
it’s alright to be me.
To my younger self I gift
a trust that life gives as well as takes,
that the blows and hurts won’t destroy me,
but will make me who I am.
To my younger self I gift
a self-belief that’s humble as it’s confident,
that the words I eventually write
will soothe me and touch others.
To my younger self I gift
a pen that scribes my truth.
