Your hands were never empty

Back from overseas. I had a fantastic time in the Netherlands, meeting up with family and friends and discovering neighbouring countries
A bit rusty with writing and not 100% on topic set by Poets and story tellers United:
Take a negative concept and turn it into something positive. 
                 

Your hands were never empty

And you open your hands
to offer the best you have.

And sometimes
your hands are left
in the air,
like a tea towel
forgotten on the line,
hanging in the rain
because no one took it in.

And you learn
that not everyone is ready
to let someone
dry their tears,

and that if someone
doesn't want to walk
through your open door,
you are allowed
to close it again.

And sometimes
they took your hand
and pulled you
across a threshold,
and for a moment
you lost yourself
to the other side
as they took all of you.

And then you
braced yourself,
found your own ground,
and understood
that the word No
can be your friend,
helping you
keep your balance.

And sometimes
your hands have scattered seeds
in someone's garden,
and you learn
that not everyone
will appreciate
the flowers that grow from them.

But you also know
that some are delighted,

and others
have learned
how to plant
their own seeds.
And you realise
you were painting
the world
a little brighter.

And know this:
your hands
were never empty.

The Hidden Path - poetry collection

 

The Hidden Path - poetry collection

My poetry book, The Hidden Path, still has a number of copies waiting on the shelf. Many have already found homes, and I’d love for the remaining copies to continue their journey into the hands of readers who enjoy poetry, reflection, and life’s small moments.

NZ$20 plus postage - New Zealand only
Pickup available if you live in Christchurch

If you’d like a copy, feel free to contact me at marja.blom@gmail.com

For readers outside New Zealand, I’ve created a downloadable PDF for US$4.99, available HERE.

The collection contains 59 poems, divided into four chapters:

Chapter 1 — Scattered Seeds
Chapter 2 — Earth and Sky (Aotearoa)
Chapter 3 — The Art of Being
Chapter 4 — Becoming Whole

These poems walk a hidden path from stillness to movement, from shadow to light, and from what is held inside to what dares to grow.

 

Among castles and crowds

 We have been to the netherlands for 2 months to visit family and friends. We went from there  on a bus trip to several cities. The weather was amazing and there was so much to see. We had bus and boat tours and guided walks and great company.

Berlin

Budapest

Budapest

          Prague

Dresden

Vienna

Among Castles and Crowds

I mingled with the masses
in Budapest, Berlin,
Dresden, Prague and Vienna.

Like Alice in Wonderland,
I became smaller from
drinking the potion
of looking up
at cathedrals and castles.

But then I grew again
and took my place on the stage,
an equal among equals.
Head held high, I opened myself
to what the world offered:

The sound of a violin drifting
across a square in Dresden.
Restless waves cradling me
on the Danube,
while evening gold
settled softly on the water.

Food lifted my spirits,
and good company
created bubbles of bliss.

Experiences washed over me
like soft morning rain.

I walked in the footsteps
of kings and paupers,
watching people arrive
from every corner of the world.

Travel washes the mind
with new discoveries,
new insights,
new horizons.

And I returned from the journey
with pockets full of dreams
and a heart stretched wider
than the map I followed.

Our Bolderman bus driver, Marcel, showered us with his amazing knowledge and let us listen to some beautiful local music, like this composition by Hungarian pianist and composer HAVASI.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

The prompt for Poets and storytellers united is a book title I choose " On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous"

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

And when you crawled out
of the suffocating wreckage of life,
the simple act of standing
became a declaration carved in air.

You showed your colours,
even for a moment, like a sunset.
If its colours clung to the sky forever,
we wouldn't notice them at all.

When words touch someone,
when you lift them like crumbs
to soothe a hunger you didn't name,
a thin current of connection stirs.

Ripples run along the fine filaments
of the skin of the world,
and the earth becomes
briefly gorgeous.

Everything else evaporates.
What remains drifts softly,
filling whatever space
the world forgot to hold.

White sails fly

The prompt for Poets and Storytellers United is: We’ll invite you to return to a favorite Friday Writing prompt of the past.

Friday Writings #231: White Sails Flying

White Sails Fly

White sails fly
across the water
like whispers of peace.
But what is peace?

It is the hungry hearts
in the undergrowth,
their arms of roots
sheltering,
reaching outward,
connecting.

Sharing scones and wine,
hugs and blown kisses,
paintings and poetry
like offerings laid
on a forest altar.

And above them,
the ones who stand proud,
breasts forward,
their pride
burns through ancient wood
to warm your meal.

When they, like wolves,
prowl the shadowed edges,
we waver,
weaving purple,
pink, and pasture-green
through grey garments
to cast a gentler shade
over the world's trembling skin.

Will the grey tilt into darkness?
You already know.

So let us gather
an army of peace and love,
set out our sails,
and call the world
back into harmony.

The shape of my sky

The prompt for What's Going On? is :Use mathematical terms and images to poeticize an aspect of life or experience.

The Shape of My Sky

Sometimes my mind spirals,
mapping out a thousand possibilities
for why my life refuses to align.
I thought it would be a constant,
yet the variables kept shifting.

Then I notice the invisible math trap:
our instinct to balance every ledger,
even though life rarely evens out.
Losses accumulate,
and hope begins to seem improbable.

Still, there are moments
when you rise to the top of the bell curve,
its gentle arc carrying you upward,
where crescent moons and quiet stars
reclaim your sky.