Being Kind

Shame shimmers at the edges of my love.
A soft hand glides over my waist:
I remember I am a sensual being.

The beat of music is a mismatch:
My body is slow, tender.
I honour the rhythm that is my own.

I must dance to be still;
Be held for muscles to soften;
Gaze at another to see myself.

For the first time I am completely honest
With men I love,
And one in whom I have no interest.

Silly Xmas Limerick

Here is a poem for Christmas.
You can test it for absurdity with litmus!
I've not got the time
To find another rhyme
So I think I'll just say Merry Kissmas!

Am I Not Still

Before you ask me

What is wrong

When I am crying,

Ask yourself

If you wonder

What is right

When I smile.

Before you think

My anger defines

Today

Ask me if

I've also known

Peace.

The fact I have wept

Every day for a year

Has no less or more

Bearing

On how I am

Than my hourly giggles.

If my eyes are not bright

Am I not still

Myself?

Sonnet: Taking A Chance

I repeated the old words too often.
Now shadows of their former potency
Have delivered a still grey fog to me.
It was sent by God I know to soften
Wounds: new, ancient, shallow, deep, wretched sore;
To soothe the guilt of not doing. Being
Is a kiss caress, I am now seeing.
Compelling all the same but much less raw -
I forgot it had slipped; that it's still there.
I wish for baths of many colours: breath
Of green, blue diamond feet; rainbow of death:
Dense earth bones cascading up princess hair.
I surely wish to bore you with my dance:
This is the deepest dive, the biggest chance.

Hurly Pearly Limerick

There once was a lady named Pearl
Whose favourite thing was to twirl.
She thought it was a winner
To do it after dinner
But it made her fall over and hurl!

Global Codependence and the Old Myth

The world is going to end

The world is going to change

We are going to change

We are waiting for a change

Something big

Something sudden

A big bang

A new messiah

Something to lift us

Something to save us

From the mess 

We have created

For ourselves.

If only enough people

Will believe

In one moment

One belief

The world will change.

Of course

The chosen few

Will ascend

To new levels

Of denial of the dark

While others are left 

To feel their feelings

For them.

Some will live

Some will die

Most will just carry on.

Someone will get to say

I told you so

And won't we all

Be better off for that.

Children terrified by the myth

Will draw a breath,

Learn that 

Part of humanity

Is the need to believe

The need to be saved

And maybe the big change

So many hope for

Will be

An awakening to the idea

That the only one

Can save you

Is yourself.

Simple Things

Simple.
Such simple things.
A hand to hold;
A smile,
A wave:
Simple things make a day worthwhile.

Teaching,
Learning,
It's never too late to try.
A hug of comfort
Changes a life;
Love makes it easy
To be kind.

A Journey In Non-London

Rolling softness;
A desire to look out at the world,
Not hide in virtual contact,
Mp3's.
Smiles,
Connection with a beautiful
Face, a sweet heart.
I am able to be quiet,
Helpful, friendly;
To write, inspired;
To breathe.

Years have changed small things
With a big impact,
Stirring memories 
Of love and agony.
The smallest kindness
And I want to weep.
As space diminishes,
Cars, people and panic multiply.
I am no longer sure
Where my home is.

Communication

Yes, of course, anything to make you happy, it doesn't matter about me, I'm happy to help.

Fuck off the lot of you.

And there's a fair bit in between.

Old Dirt

Old.
Old.
It's all so old.
Ingrained
Like the grime in cracks
On a wooden table.
At times I wish for a jet wash
To blast it clean.
Perhaps I should get a
New table.
But I like this one;
I'm attached to it.
It is a long, slow
Labour of love,
Restoration.
Meanwhile, I must use it
Less and less
To slow the cycle
Of self-perpetuating
Old dirt.

Li'l Mavis

Tiny needle teeth,
A curious nose
Finding delight in leaves,
Shoes and antlers alike.

Soft white haircurls,
A lamb's spring in his step.
Anticipation of constant experiences -
Mooches, munches, minutes of madness.

Awaiting his pack,
A bark, snuffle or whine
Moves him from triangle rug to
Howling, twisty, frisky mantis.

A reminder of joy,
Spreading love
With a bobbing tail
And the nibble of an ear.

Exhausted

Lead rolls slowly through my veins,

Its weight holding me.

An arm is free to move,

Until the dense lethargy

Lolls back in,

The momentary release

Existing elsewhere,

Ever-changing.

No bellowing lungs,

Only old balloons

Slightly shrivelled.

A brain full of old thoughts

Connected to unseeing eyes.

The Lifesmith

Ah, the enticement of a fresh page:

Perfect, like a newborn baby,

Unmarked with blood, sweat and tears,

Its smell inspiring creative anticipation.

So soon words appear:

Memories, beliefs, regrets and successes,

The wisdom, or not, of years

Shown in lines, strokes, crosses and dots for the i's.

Can I trust what comes my way -

The words i choose or which are chosen?

I only know that I am here

To fill the page as best I can.

Spiders are Scary!

Spiders are scary
And yet very Zen:
They build webs and lose webs,
Start over again.
Are they frustrated?
There's no way of knowing.
All I see is
They keep going and going!

Goodbye

Desperation and loneliness

The eau de toilette

In my sweat

On a night full of

Decaying dreams.

The agony of what was lost,

Pushed away,

Denied,

Oozing from shattered hearts.

And I cried when I knew he still loved me,

For in that love was a letting go

Of all that had passed and might have been.

Waves

This time I tumble,
Rolling over and over
Unable to breathe
Life force fighting
For air and footing.

This time I stand,
Held by rock feet,
Focus; will.
A shield of flame
Cuts through the ocean.

This time I am the water,
Surrendered,
I am wild:
Dead calm; a tsunami;
A lurking, capricious mystery.

This time I am
Dappled droplights in spring sunshine;
Rain that sprinkles up
As well as down;
A crisp winter's dewy walk.

This time I am
An old quarry turned lake.
Moons, trees and faces
Are reflected in me,
While depths are only imagined.

Mirror

There's a mirror in my pocket.
It sets there all day
Reflecting to itself.
Sometimes it gets taken out,
The cover is opened,
And joy of joys!
It sees the world!

An eye, a nose,
A glimpse of sky or tree,
A flash of passing bus,
Even a whole face
Or a distant ugly building.

Enraptured, the mirror has
Slowly pieced together
A whole universe
In its mind
From the tiny snapshots
Gathered over years.

I realise that the more
I uncover that little mirror,
The deeper will be its understanding.
I'm not sure if it's ever seen
The moon, or the
Hat I hardly ever wear.
To gaze at myself then
Is not vanity but kindness.

Luna

The moon has gravity,
Drawing in men and meteors
With her bright light,
Her changing face;
Her dark side.

Already on an altering course,
Still they come,
Though the dangers are apparent,
While she watches
With her owl eyes.

Fascinated, she too
Is drawn in return,
Wishing to know
The ebb and flow
Of each beloved one.

Yet too she sees
The impact,

The responsibility,
Of her power
To inspire.

Cheesy Limerick

This poetry lark isn't easy:
It's hard not to make it sound cheesy.
Do I go for a pun?
Rhyme with fun, sun or run?
Oh dear, I feel terribly queasy!

The Bitter Pill

Every night,
With the same routine,
She swallows a bitter pill
With a hope of healing.

She wonders why
The fire never quite warms,
Why the garden always has
A place the sun can't reach.

One day, she knows
She will understand
That a bitter pill
Cannot sweeten a heavy load.

Days of gentleness and passion, delicacy and love

Exotic green birds make a home
Where they they were thought 
To not belong,
Their spirits flying,
Soaring as high as they
Allow their wings
To take them;
Giving their colour,
Their song,
Their extraordinary beauty,
Their juicy magic,
Their transformative brilliance
As a gift
To inspire the world.

Slow and Gentle

Stillness glistens in a dark pool.
Deeper and deeper this body sinks
Into cool nothing;
Gentle breaths
Bringing love
To a heart
In awe.

And

And suddenly my arm was a miracle.

I saw all the places it had been

And all the places it would go

In one moment

Like a path of light

It could not help but follow.

Yet still there was choice

And so too I saw

The consequences of a tiny action,

Of each tiny action,

Because each one changes the path.

And if it changes the path for me,

It must change it for others

For all our paths intertwine

Like lovers fingers.

A wave broke me open

And I wept tears of beauty

And forgiveness,

For none of us choose

And yet we all do.

And there is always an and.....

The Parallel World

I used to live in a parallel word.
A place where,
On the cusp of a dream,
Life took a different path;
Where nights were longer than days.
I did not know how to leave
Or even know I should.
I existed there a long time.

Today I woke to find
I was home.
I must have clicked red heels three times.
It's not the old cliche
That it was a dream all along
Because I'm older now - 
Perhaps wiser too.
I grieve for the many years that passed,
Yet rejoice that they
Brought me here.

For here is where
Everything seems possible.
All that I was and worked for
So long ago -
The life, wife, mother,
Friend, performer
Who existed then
Is living now
In Me.
And she wants
To uncover the world.

Take Your Time

Sink into the darkness of not knowing, my love.

For in the underground garden of winter,

Magic happens

And spring always comes.

Surrender into uncertainty, my love.

For the energy to begin

A whole universe

Began with the unknown.

Silly Friday Verse

My brain is full of mished up mush

As useful as hot jelly;

All I want's to go to sleep

With warm food in my belly.

Scuzzy wuzzy fungle fuzz,

Jingle jangle jem,

None of these are proper words,

I just like saying them!

Life Purpose

There is a thing inside me
Which needs to come out;
I know it, I know it so well.
For years I have run from it,
Terrified, unworthy;
Even to speak its name
Feels like a boast
Of which I must be ashamed.

But this thing -
Desire, impulse, need,
Burning, unquashable ambition,
Or simply inner knowing
Of what it is
I am meant to do -
Has kept pace with me
All the same.
I have tried to quench it
But the fires won't be tamed.

Now I feel it in every breath,
In every cell of my being;
The importance of still present fears
Diminishes each day.
And suddenly the permission
I so readily give to others
Makes sense! I understand its aim:
It's the permission I need
For myself
To break all the rules.

Thoughts of ageing on being greeted by a bus driver

There was a time, not so long ago,

When wherever it was that I went,

Whether I dressed super glam, very smart,

Or with a more casual bent,

That I'd be addressed as Mademoiselle, Miss,

Señorita or similar name,

Yet now it is Ms, Señora or Madame,

And it doesn't feel quite the same!

When did it change, why did I not notice?

What happened to spring missy me?

I can't help but wonder what might happen next -

What might the following clue be?

A mortgage, a marriage, kids and a dog,

Listening to radio four;

Feeling the aches in my body post-dance

That never were there before?

Watching grey hairs start to sprout on my head

Needing glasses to read a page?

I now understand why I was told to be grateful

That I never looked my age!

What If

What if the rain stops and ne'er comes again?
How will the water fall?
What if the butterfly's wings start to beat,
Bringing the end of us all?
What if the lion rips open my guts,
Showing the world what's inside?
What if the snake's curiosity ends?
Would anyone know it had died?
What if I always kept my eyes on the ground
Ne'er flying with birds above?
What if I stayed in a shell all my life
And never had courage to love?
What if I never once said what I thought,
Took a risk that you would not leave?
What if I ne'er let myself care enough
To feel the loss, to grieve?
What if I never took a risk that might fail
To keep me from getting it wrong?
What if I ne'er loved, sobbed or danced till I dropped?
Would you want to hear my song?

EGOS

Entertaining

Gorgeous

Ordinary

Sweet

Adorable

Rare

Energetic

Natural

Outgoing

Tenacious

Beautiful

Angelic

Delightful

Thoughtful

Heartful

Effervescent

Yearning

Sensible

Innocent

Magical

Playful

Laughing

Youthful

Necessary

Efficient

Effectual

Darling

Lovable

Obliging

Vulnerable

Exceptional

The Man Who Didn't Know How To Hug

Game shows, soaps, celebrity big jungle factor houses:

Ways to avoid an evening of talking with our spouses.

All because one man could not stand to feel

The unbearable agony of love.

Buildings fall and turn to dust while inside people die;

Parents weep for babies lost as bombs and bullets fly.

All because one man could not stand to feel

The unbearable exquisiteness of love.

Children who are forced to fight with sticks, tin hats and stones,

Grow up as freedom fighters who have fury in their bones.

All because one man could not stand to feel

The unknown ecstasy of love.

Road rage, fox hunts, scandals, rows, betrayals and excuses;

Global warming, poaching, lies and human rights abuses.

All because one man was never taught to feel

The warm embrace of love.

The Remote Flow Of Change

One I is climbing a mountain

On sheer and rocky paths.

Another sees only gentle meadows ahead,

Rests in soft grass

Smelling earth and watching dragonflies.

A remote flicks from one to the other,

Held by someone wiser than me.

I stroke the silk and velvet nose

Of a content cat,

Steeping us both in trust

And I am in awe of this world

And my changing places in it.

Thoughts Of Unknown Things

There is something I can't quite see.
Tingling mind's
Awakened to possibility.

Grains in the corner of an eye
Are a clue
But they slip like dry sand down the lines

Of a hand and there is no time
To dive in
To not knowing: I grasp as I climb,

I see the one two three, jump in
To the beat;
It is ours to end or to begin.

These thoughts of unknown things are travelling;
Age old beliefs are now unravelling.

The Yes No Yes

All the resistance I can muster
Drags me through hot tar.
Suddenly pen on page
Is not just last on the list,
Not just for pleasure as and when,
But a dreaded
COMMITMENT!

My hand writes who knows what:
My brain has gone on holiday,
Destination anywhere but where
I said I will go.
Terror of expectations
From dead weight compliments
That say I must also
Be great tomorrow.
Terror of failure
Brings plans B, C and D
With a bucket of
Reasonable excuses.

This terror is mostly of success:
For who knows who
This decision
Will lead me to be?