a poem for uplifting things

 

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.

 

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 9: write a list of things

NaPoWriMo 2018 day 26: Senses of Spring

 

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.

 

NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 4: my garden of spirituality

 

It’s the quality and direction of light that tells me

of presence, of a beam, of something greater than me.

Like torchlight from an invisible source,

it pools between thick leaves, through autumn cloud,

illuminating the darkest part of my garden.

 

The new-grown laurels have taken root,

wildly, greenly, not caring they’re uneven, mismatched.

They huddle around the scraggy old wooden bench

with its rectangle feet set firmly in the shingle:

a bench with a view, that leaves you with a sore behind.

 

The cheeky red berries shine crimson in the sunshine of youth

amidst the demure and dappled undergrowth,

their cherry fire and beaded little heart in full-bloom denial

of any future state of wither or decay.

An so shines the purity of that insistent beam of light.

 

a poem to my creative blocks

 

my blocks pop up in colourful ways

sometimes when I least expect,

and often – when I’m pulled

by that crazy creative force,

that desire to put my words out there –

the opposite has to exist:

primed to put a stop to my course,

to cut me from my source.

 

the horizon may be dewy,

the breeze may be blowy

the potential stretching out

may be incredibly alluring,

and yet a part of me,

a stubborn and relentless saboteur

wants to stub out

the scary unknown.

 

what I’d like to do is

kick those blocks aside,

send them scattering

off the pier of fear,

and to open my future

to run wildly, wind in my hair,

trust at my feet, sun in my dreams,

and strength in my belief.

 

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NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 2: a to-and-fro on commitment

 

 

Me:

I really love you, I want to commit,

But life has me stressed

up to the armpits.

 

You:

You love your stress, can’t live without,

you create it all ways.

In you I doubt.

 

Them:

If only they knew the short time they had left

they’d spend less on the lack,

nor let fear be their theft.

 

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my creative heart

inktuition creative heart

my creative heart has been

beating but not seen,

patiently not known,

hoping, lying in wait

that one day, like this,

I would notice its pulse

and take heed of its sounds

listen to its beat,

see all its signs,

act on its guidance.

Create, at last,

what makes it sing.

A full-hearted swing

at life’s infinite joy.

(pic courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net/cuteimage)