Poems from the last couple of weeks
Poems from the last couple of weeks
One about a friend, one about feeling drained over bureaucracy and a couple of others
Often, I look at people and sort of ‘feel’ them.
Is it aura? I don’t know.
Doesn’t even have to be in real life, I can see a pair of eyes on a screen and my gaze seems to hold their pain. I feel the weight of their life and have been known to cry for complete strangers, such is the intensity. (Okay, might be a bit of peri menopause kicking in….😉😂)
Other times, it’s like looking into a depth, object or colour.
Don’t worry, I’m not about to tell you your Aunty Sue has a message from ‘the other side’ or anything…..😉
Anyway, I have this one friend and she appears as a flame to me. I look into her red hair and see a cool blue within, the way one sees blue in a real fire, only to realise the blue is always the hottest part.
Well that’s the first poem anyway. The next, ‘Victory’ was written straight after I won my battle over my son’s transport so it felt very bittersweet to me, was drained.
But that was then and I have been known to be a bit of a drama queen……
I’m alright now.
Flame
Courts apple eve as lucid night
Sports silver sheen so rare
Skin bathed in moon beam radiance
Her voice makes lace of air
A vent of art, end housed in start
Each layer, mischievous game
Her form, bee swarm, ice swim in warm
Blue cast in fervent flame.
Victory
How can it be a victory
When it has taken most of me
When what remains is but a ghost
Phantom parade of dignity
.
Man made charades of fairness die
Crumbled cubes of fallacy
Their stock take, bitters brew with lie
We choke on raw reality
.
Each battle horse it trampled me
Each boot sought out and stamped on me
Each metal spur pierced life force
Took pleasure in each bite of me
.
How does one rest, recuperate
Chained to a bridge of sighs?
Pained as sunsets spill their bleed
Jealous of their demise
Gone Again
You’re gone again, and so it is
My time has no occasion
A restless clock with no alarm
A train without her station
I carry on, playing the part
Making the usual sounds
Unsure of how to sweeten hours
To sugar ‘round and round’
Days and seconds merge as mud
A malady of beige
Ferrying my fleet of blood
To sink in silent rage
What did I do before I knew
Each smiling dote of daisy?
Observed by gold, in wonder held
But law of love, a mystery…..
Don’t Let Them Put Your Fire Out
Don’t let them put your fire out
No matter what they do
The spark you wield effortlessly
Was my first gift to you
Your fierce rush bounds through my heart ,
A spirit wild and free
The confidence you radiate
So unafraid to be
You move and laugh so joyfully
A spill of blaze and fun
Be sure to keep that magic safe
From thieves of light, my son
They’ll want to tame and rein you in
Don’t let them go too far
And if they try to snuff you out
Remember all you are.
Absolutely! I feared this is what might happen. Because of the numbers of pupils involved, secondary schools are all about getting control by training pupils to conform and not stand out. Basically it’s all they do in the first few months. I can only imagine what it must be like for a bright and exuberant chap like your boy. Schools have to be one size fits all institutions. Some are just not cut out for it, two of my grandchildren are cases in point. They would never be able to ‘fit’ a school’s expectations but they’re not strong characters. Sincerely hope he can carve a niche for himself with your support, without compromising his spirit. ❤️
Don’t Let Them Put Your Fire Out.
A message for all young children.
As an art teacher, this resonated. An example:
EVERYONE can draw. All little children draw happily until formal education tells them it has to be done in a certain way then the majority stop believing they can. How many people have you heard say ‘I can’t draw for toffee’ ? Everyone can draw, just perhaps not in the way they’ve been conditioned to believe is acceptable. They had their fire put out.