Silver threaded dreams

The prompt for Poets and storytellers United: we invite you to revisit one of our old prompts. Maybe one you missed but wish you hadn’t.
Friday Writings #145: Dreams and Memory

Silver threaded dreams

When your day is heavy,
rest in endless, gentle clouds.
The universe, featherlight,
carries your memories away,
lifts you into dreams.
Life loosens its grip.

You enter the place
where birds rehearse new lines,
Where the air hums with harmony,
softly singing “you are not alone.”

The universe carries you
on the wings of a bird,
gliding above your burdens.
Stars lean in,
spilling truths
that plant sparks of hope.

Listen.
The moon spins music,
silver-threaded,
drifting through an open window,
filling you with strength.
It weaves stones and memory
into something that breathes,
something that lightens you.

Renewed,
you rise into a new day.
You step into meadows
where buds shine like lanterns,
where trees whisper above.

Renewed,
you carry dawn within you.

Through the windshield

The prompt for What's going on is cars. Cars are something bringing me from A to B. They are Not just something but a synonym for freedom. I fought for that freedom. I had more lessons than I can count and was lucky that I didn't have to parallel park on my test. I just park a km further if I have to as that is still a nightmare.

Through the windshield

At first, cars didn’t set me
spinning with the stars.
My instructor sent me home
after two lessons
“You’ll never learn to drive,”
he said, after I cut the corner.

But the next one didn’t send me away.
He shifted me into an automatic,
and a few kind people
helped me practice, practice,
practice.

I swirled a little in my first Opel Kadet,
then steadied the wheel.
Slowly, I took the road to success,
conquering my dyspraxic mind.

Now our Lexus carries me
to the hills to walk,
to cafes to talk
a freedom I claimed
k by k

I came.
I steered.
I conquered.

Song of your flame

Poets and Storytellers United asked us to share 14 loving words, or words about love – any kind of love, for anyone or anything.

Far did I extend that invitation, as my mind drifted to much younger years when my flame of love danced. so may this love poem wander into all romantic souls

Song of your flame

I love you!
When you are with me,
love rests like a spider’s nest
nestled deep in my stomach,
your stroke stirs countless spiders
to dance in ecstasy

You guide me to a sky
cushioned with silver clouds
above lupine-lined, milky roads.
Like a string on an instrument,
your touch wakes me into song.

I catch whispers from your heart in the wind
and keep them in the net of my longing,
so I feel you forever.

Your voice is strung with starlight,
your words mystic poetry,
making raindrops dream
of an eternal downpour of love.

Your presence hums in my mind like a melody.
Together, my mundane life transforms,
driving me into trenches of exuberance.

Your flame fills the room with light,
warms me, wraps me in delight.
Never leave me
I would die a thousand deaths,
my aching heart drifting on airwaves
to the deepest, darkest corners of the universe.

Oh, I love you
a song still rising in the flame.

Woman's Rights

 A poem for What's Going On? The prompt: let's ponder womanhood, women's rights, our "herstory"
In recent years, women have faced a lot of setbacks. As a person with learning disabilities, I have often not been understood and have had to work ten times as hard. Through that, I have learned never to give up and to claim my space. This is what we, as women, can do. For some, the journey will be even harder, but moving forward, one step at a time, is something we all can achieve.

Women's Rights

Women, remember
you are fully human.
You hold the right
to stand as equals,
to rise into yourself
with strength and hidden gifts,
so let the world unfold through you.
Even if the world insists otherwise,
move forward, always forward.

If you long to study, begin.
Plant a seed of learning,
watch it sprout and branch.
If you want to work,
put a stamp on that world.
If your hands ache to create
to mend, to heal, to build
let them speak.
they already know the way.

Teach your sons, women
let them feel, in the gentle weave
of a tea towel, what fairness means.
Let them hear, in words shaped with care,
what respect sounds like.
And teach your daughters
to stand proud and capable,
to trust their strength,
and claim their place.

Let us be the ones
to craft a future
where woman and man
walk side by side,
sharing one horizon,
one path,
one goal.

Halswell Quarry Christchurch

Close to us, on the edge of Christchurch, Halswell Quarry is full of surprises. What was once a busy quarry is now a park where you can wander leafy tracks, go for a picnic, or soak up views of the Port Hills. One of its special features is the six Sister City gardens, each designed to reflect Christchurch’s friendships with cities around the world, from Adelaide to Seattle, and even as far as Songpa-gu in Seoul.

We had our first Spring Walk and as you see, the cherry trees are blooming

The quarry is a special place for us so I wrote a poem about it

Halswell Quarry

The stone bones
of Halswell Quarry
became the skeleton
of Christchurch’s early buildings.
Basalt braids woven
into the fabric of these cliffs.

Shifting air looks down
on green hills,
fields, and the path
where my footsteps wandered,
where my breath met silence
in times when memory weighed heavy,
in times when my steps were light.

On the ridge: the cradle
of my husband’s beginning.
The path still crosses
the garden he made as a child,
the remnants of his cactuses
softened into the ground.

Now, some cabbage trees
hang out on the hills,
a little gathering, chatting in the wind.
Now, Korean totem poles stand tall,
watching families spread picnics
in the Songpa-gu Garden.

Voices and laughter
cling to the air,
in the living green close
to my home,
close to my heart.

And still
the quarry listens.

Where shadows weave light

 The prompt for Poets and Storytellers United is "Tell us something good"

Where shadows weave light

Can you hear the music?
You said it is slow and spiritless,
but her heart danced to the edge of the earth.

Do you see the shadow’s shape?
You said the dark makes you gasp for light,
while she saw light being woven through the shadow.

Have you breathed the air today?
You said it’s damp and dusty,
while the scent of rain on stone made her inhale deeply.

In the vastness of your mind,
a world is built of thoughts 
some hard ones were taught.

To hide the fractures and ruptures,
you press a plaster to the pain,
you polish your pride
and place it on display.

But she walks barefoot in the sand,
writing verses in the sky 
so soft the clouds will carry them,
so true the birds will echo them in song.

I give you a lantern to see her lightness,
your thoughts settle into softness.

Her soul twirls and stirs the stardust,
she invisibly moves you into beauty.