Rainwater

~

With each step
we write our lives
with quills dipped in rainwater
for as soon as it is written
it fades under the glare of happiness
or is washed away by storms of solitude
and yet
the mere act of dipping is enough
to send ripples along to the roots of Gaia’s smile
where she drinks in the questions of us mortal masterpieces
for as soon as it is written
our souls, our spirits, our hearts and our minds become
lost in the frustrations of being unable to comprehend
the reasons why we are given such beauty
only for it to be washed away
and yet
the simple act of being kind to the rains as they fall
brings its own rewards
for when we write our lives
with quills of love
we shall be given
in return
the truth of how to live in the now moments
how to flow upon and over the storm-crusted stepping stones of chaos
and of how to write with rainwater
and know there are no answers, except for those we create

When we write with rainwater
the sun shines
and the storms rage
and yet
when we write with rainwater
we breathe, know and feel the beauty of existence

The now moments remain, regardless of the rains
we do not need to know why
we simply need to write the next step
and smile

just smile in the love within you
and you will feel the love smile for you
and so
write with rainwater
feel the peace, know the freedom
and send smiles of love to ripple along
this most beautiful thing we call life

just smile in the love within you
and you will feel the love within you smile

just smile in the love within you
and you will feel your love smile for everyone
for are we not the same, you and I

Write with rainwater
and just let it flow

x

The end of summer

~

The coffee sits cold and forgotten
a liquid shadow in the silence of night
where movement becomes ethereal and silken
with a touch of the butterfly
as she kisses the gravestones of summer goodbye

and so we look for the warm remembrances
of times spent allowing our skin
to feel the heat of life’s caresses
as we wash the coffee cups
thinking and dreaming
of how warm autumn nights
will turn into the heat
of passion-fuelled winter evenings
where the beat of the butterfly’s kisses
echo ‘neath the stars
echo in the dark
echo to the beat of skin kissing skin

kissing skin

kissing skin

kissing skin …

First night nerves

Well!

I finally did it, I went to an evening of live poetry readings to read some of my poems.

It was in a caf√© I sometimes visit in Wolverhampton called WildBytesCaf√© and they have a monthly event called Viva Voce. I was rather nervous, or maybe a bit more than rather :) as I’ve only read my writings in the writing group I go to, or here on my blog and on YouTube. I was assured it was a cosy group which made me feel better.

We started at about 7.30 and read round the little group. I think I read about 6 poems and the piece I’ve written here called Love! and they were well received so that made me more comfortable with the sharing.

When I read my poetry here with just me and the microphone I get involved with the words and my emotions and feelings take over, so I was worried I would get too emotional and not be able to finish anything! While reading a couple I could feel myself falling into the self-conscious “doubt? agony? frustration?” of myself and so I had to control my breathing with a little extra breath here and there and maybe a little cough to disguise my emotions (I could feel them trying to break through).

As is normal with a group we chatted about this and that, which also helped to ease me onto the next poem.

And here’s me sitting with a coffee and my notepad waiting for it all to start (I think I’d just written a couple of poems to calm me). Can you see the terror on my face? Ha ha :)

Me at Wildbytes First reading

They serve lovely food there too :)

~

Well!

I was out last night at my local pub and noticed it was more busy than usual for a Wednesday so while chatting to the barmaid, while ordering another round, I found out they now have an Open Mike Night every fortnight, and she had to say it didn’t she :) she said anyone can come up and sing or perform or even read poetry, well with a couple of pints of Guinness inside me I happened to mention that I’m a poet and only last night I did my first live reading, so, she pointed someone out who I should speak to and we chatted and then a few minutes later I was visited at the table and we discussed me coming to read at the next event (he wanted me to get up and read there and then, ha ha not a chance!) so it turns out I’ve talked myself into reading in a pub in two weeks time, but this will be even more scary as I’ll be standing up in front of lots of people, GULP!! Aaaaaaargh RUN AWAY!!

The beat of your land

and there you fly, oh golden thread
‘pon the breath of time
your soul is bled

rising as the flower reaches
to kiss the eye
with petalled entreaties

and there the stillness settles deep
as tall they grow
with soft green leaf

into the tune of universe grand
my heart sings out
to the beat of your land

and there you fly, oh golden thread
‘pon a butterfly’s smile
your soul is bred

The whispered beauty of your soul

~

***

Sit in the silence
of yourself
breathe the essence
of life around you
within you
of you
and so relax
as all of nature
the spirits
and the stars
listen to the whispered beauty
of your soul
and so feel it
as time itself
slows down
to follow you
to be with you
to love you

***

Fodder for the beasts

The camouflaged dead
remain where they’ve fallen
motionless bodies
resting upon the stillness of the Earth
with perhaps a little ruffle of fur
or a lift of feather
as a gentle breeze kisses their souls
and so breathes the life of nature’s love
into the reality of their death

The camouflaged dead
remain where they’ve fallen
hidden within the undergrowth of life
; fodder for the beasts