Poetry

A story of trees

Like two phoenixes who have been mated their whole, long lives

we will rise up from our ashes

and carve out space for ourselves

in dark, lichen covered trunks.

Our arms will wrap around each other

in an eternal hug

which will become an eden for birds and squirrels and bees.

From the strength and solidness of our roots

we will remain side by side forever,

entangled in a shower of leaves and blossom.

 

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Poetry

Sparking joy

The sand sweeps across the pavement and over our trainers as we scan the beach and the laughing waves. You lean on the railing next to me, talking about how our heads never bumped in the years we’ve worked together and how it’s only now we finally see we had a friend there all along. Mr Crow stalks up behind you, eyeing the decorative chains on your trousers, captivated by the sun’s glint that has also clutched my attention. I point him out and we watch him strut, then make our own way back along the front. Those chains of yours clink together as we walk, side by side and in step, not knowing how close we are until our shoulders touch.

Poetry

Vision

Spread out your collarbones, stand tall.

It’s how they’ll see you

when everything is trying to obscure you from their horizons.

Step through the doors that open,

but only if your heart tells you that’s where it wants to go.

If your eyes catch on another path,

even if there’s no sign,

it can always be enlightening to explore.

Tradition doesn’t have to stale up decisions.

Take the fresh air and use it as an arrow, letting it spin

until it finds your true north.

Poetry

If, If, If

If a matter is discussed and a plan settled,

does a question need to be posed

and an answer given?

 

If a shadow becomes more than just the absence of light,

growing solid, dependable, sentient,

shouldn’t it be given its own life?

 

If a half finds itself wondering if it’ll ever meet its other,

knowing some depend on it not doing so

and some hoping it will,

how can it live knowing one day

it might have to choose?

 

We puzzle scenarios to make sense of the world,

yet we neglect our own hearts

and are blind to ourselves.

Poetry, Uncategorized

Weather change

If the breeze could speak, I wonder if it would tell us where it’s come from.

Tell us about the butterflies that have surfed on it, or the parachuting spiders waiting to paint the trees with silk.

How many bodies it’s brought together,  channeling life from flower to flower,

catching dreams and sending them by sky post to Mary Poppins.

Would it tell us about the cut trees it’s seen, the hunters who have no hunger to warrant hunting, the water that was ice and the islands not made of rock or soil, but plastic?

Maybe it already is speaking and we just haven’t learnt how to listen.

Poetry

Light fades on the troll bridge

The light was fading as we talked, water

sloshing against the troll bridge that I was going to leap on

even before you said you were expecting me to.

 

I love how you can take my whimsical moments and wrap

them in tissue paper and ribbon, holding them tight

as if I’d gifted them to you.

 

You couldn’t see the path, only the puddles reflecting us

as we strolled along, together.

It’s so typically you – focusing on what is truly clear

and taking the rest, no matter how difficult, as it comes.

Poetry

Deal?

I never want you       to be anything less

than yourself around me       let yourself out fully, don’t       hold back

no matter what       tell me anything

bounce ideas off me like I’m a squash court

same with emotions: let them       out

laugh, cry, be low, be high

show me the darkness       show me the light

anything that’s on your mind, anything at all

I will always be a net to hold the rawest parts of you