My Light: a poem for National Poetry Day 2015

You don’t get to blow out my flame

when you huff and you puff.

You don’t get to turn down my glow

when you’re feeling bored.

You don’t get to shame my spark

Into snuffing itself out.

You don’t get me to dim my light

so yours can shine brighter.

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discovering the point of me

inktuition 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.

the illusion of control

Control was my calling card,

what everyone knew me for.

Control was my comfort,

a way to keep the score.

Control took my humour,

replaced it with sour lips.

Control was my defence

against the highs and dips.

Control and I had a battle

until I learned who was boss.

Control gave me power

that was way too easily lost.

Control I gave up

when robbed of those I loved.

Control I still explore

through story, rhyme and word.

the joy of helping

it used to be all about me

now it’s kind of all about them

because when I help all of them out there

I learn things about me in here

and in seeing things about me

I grow and understand more

which helps me understand them

and isn’t that life’s adventure…?

Spirit in the sky (silent retreat – day three)

Isn’t it the way?

When you look for answers within

the real world reflects

the truth that’s held therein.

Just tuning in to nature

hearing chirps of nearby birds,

admiring springtime blooms –

then clouds leave me lost for words.

inktuition angel wings

 As if to show some hidden depths –

something intoxicatingly amazing –

the clouds command the pre-dusk sky

and stretch their angel wings.

inktuition spirit in the sky Then strips of spirit send their light

to the curious land of open hearts.

The dignity of cloud and field and sky

make me in awe to be a part.