Hope

It has been around forever.

It often finds a way inside.

Confine and cage the clever.

Make a person’s path divide.

However, dread slithers in…

And hope is strong and swift.

Forever hidden deep within;

To set our aching fears adrift.

For The Sunday Muse and Poetry Pantry

Photo: Source

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

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Rhythmic for Rain

Hearts beat with the drums reverberations.

A tribes passion expressed.

Rhythmic for rain.

Clouds swell with the drumming.

Rhythms insisting the sun;

Fade into the golden savanna.   

Some wait for the sky to open;

Lingering there until blessings fall.

For The Sunday Muse

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There Was a Time

There was a time when I held onto insecurity –

Tight as the bottom of the ocean holds onto wreckage.

Unable to try new things.

Afraid of what someone might say –

Or worse what they might think…

And not say. I feared the eye roll.

Then there came a time when…

I unclenched the lap bar – held my arms in the air.

Opened my eyes wide and looked forward.

Embraced the ups and downs.

Mentally threw any eye rollers off the track.

And enjoyed the thrill of the ride.

Then there came a time not so long ago…

When gravity started whizzing me down the track,

A little faster it seemed – wind smacking me in the face.

However, my gears are still clicking and clanking.

I’m still climbing – the excitement of the ride still consumes me.

Now, I can only hope…

I continue to experience the thrill of life – in an exhilarating way –

Until my ride comes to a stop.

Photo: Pinterest

She Shook Her Loose Feathers Free

She found her spirit dimming.

Then determination surged…

Within her heart and veins,

Until joy emerged.

Vibrations of spirit soared.

Colliding with distant stars.

A sprinkling of sparkle…

Swapped for mental scars.

Her mind perched as the eagle.

Steady gaze – a turquoise sea.

Peace of graceful waves.

Tides of emotions flee.

She seized a tranquil silence.

Paused to hear the melody.

She’d finally unfurled her wings…

And shook her loose feathers free.


For the Sunday muse and Poetry Pantry

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Photo: Source

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Jesus Came Between Us

Jesus came between us a few days ago.

I sit and watch you brood – about what?

I guess... I will never know.

It has always been my greatest fear.

Living with your echoes of emptiness.

You always make sure I hear.

You mumble to yourself – shake your head.

Refuse to communicate out loud.

And always leave the loving words unsaid.

You make it very hard to forgive.

Still, I begin each new day happy.

It is how I choose to live –

You’re mostly vigilant on the razor's edge.

Letting anger come between us.

I’m done, my love – now, Jesus drives the wedge.


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Warrior

Did they think there were no women warriors?

Fox… did they think only men could have bravery?

Did they not see my cunning abilities?

When they forced their laws and beliefs on our people…

Did they think I would surrender to their demands?

They should have seen the fierceness in my eyes.

They thought they would take our structures and lands,

And force our people into slavery without a fight.

We joined forces and fought a good fight for freedom.

We may not have won the war, fox —

We may lie bleeding courage here in the final battle…

But we stood against brutal aggression.

Rising and falling – we will be remembered.

Do you see it, fox? The moon gate?

It is time to shed our swords and helmets.

It is time to shed our earthly skin – gain our ethereal wings.

Soon we will be on the garden side of life.

Soon we’ll lie our bruised bodies about the mossy knoll.

Our ears will only hear the soothing stream.

Our eyes will rest on the forget-me-nots in the green meadows.

Soon our hearts will be as light as butterflies – our story will live on.

Photo: "Guardian" by Chie Yoshii

https://thesundaymuse.blogspot.com/

Haiku

Warm smooth basalt stones,

processed by natures stresses;

now line a stressed spine.

Photo: Source

An Ornate Silver Bowl

Frail hands held an ornate silver bowl. “Is it for sale?” I enquired. 

Everything else had a price tag. “I have no one to pass it down to and no use for it” 

he grumbled. But he clinched it as if it were his life preserver and he was being 

tossed about the ocean fighting for his life. His face lit up as he recalled the

seaside town where he and his sweetheart bought and filled the bowl with seashells.  

“One day on a seashore so many years ago” he moaned. As if it were yesterday, his 

face lit up and he remembered the perfect day.

Towels laid out upon the sand.

Underneath a coconut palm.

Lovers gazing at the sea and each other.

Bringing on a sense of calm.

— Busy minds quickly silenced.

Meditating to shorebird psalms.

Sun-kissed skin soothed —

By the warmth of its healing balm.

Floating away the lovely day.

In a passionate tranquil sea.

Slowly the perfect day started to fade away. —

Flowing shades of coral essence…

Sauntered across the sky.

A panoramic dying day…

Vanished before our eyes.

Crescent moon minister…

Bonfire flames vigil’s light…

Honoring the day's memories —

Burning well into the night.

 

His weak hands reached out to give me the bowl. “I want you to have it.”

He whispered as a tear flowed from his eye.

“I couldn’t possibly buy it — it means so much to you.”

 I murmured. “You took the time to listen to an old man grumble”

he replied. “I don’t need it – I will be with her one day soon”

he sighed with a smile.


He stared into the silver bowl — and remembered.

The day a lifetime of love started blooming.
Amongst the tarnish in the bottom of the bowl.
His reflection showed a sunset looming.


Photo: Unsplash

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