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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Tag Archives: purpose
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
NaPoWriMo 2018 day 22: a poem for stars
The pattern of stars in the sky above my head –
as I lie on my patio chairs, feeling the evening breeze –
is scattered and twinkly,
but not distinct.
I ask them for an answer.
The lights from planes on their way to
destinations far and wide, flicker
and flirt with the stars,
evidence that another flight took off OK.
I need to know my purpose, why I’m here,
and why I keep messing up my life.
I look to the stars for an answer.
What seems to be a plane
is a star that shines bright,
that is having its moment
in the firmament.
I pray for an answer.
I look away, look back,
The stars in my night sky,
above my patio,
have rearranged
into the shape of a heart.
My heart that I must follow.
discovering the point of me
I’ve been apologising for oh so long,
as I explain and cringe my choices,
that I lost the point of me.
Born, I was too much crying,
too many nappies, too much bother
to feel there was a point to me.
A child, I was told I was far too messy,
warned to be good and stay quiet.
There was no point to me.
Teenaged, I was never allowed my style,
was asked did I think I looked good in that.
I cried and searched the point to me.
Studied, I gained diplomas, degrees,
which I thought would make me whole.
Looking back, I wonder the point in that.
Grown up, and business gave me power
to manage, to lead, to create.
My star waned: what was the point of me.
A mother, a new life with other fertile ones
I thought would give me meaning.
Playground bitches destroyed the point of me.
Stressed, I feel the yawn of my heart.
Pleasing others from dawn to dusk:
who would ever make a point of that?
Broken, a life with a faded façade
and scaffolding all torn away.
I start to vision the death of me.
Darkened, I think of ways to loosen
my grip on this mortal soil.
What the **** was the point of me?
Soul-bound, I’m saved from today’s maudlin.
Tomorrow I’m not so sure.
What’s the point of staying here?
Awakening, I take a daily breath
that surprises me each morning.
The only thing that keeps me alive
is the point one day I’ll believe in.
inktuition 