The ones I hate, the ones I hold

 The prompt for Poets and Storytellers United is: write about three things you hate and tear them down, and/or three things you love and celebrate them.

The ones I hate, the ones I hold

Oh, how I hate the greedy ones 
those who hunger for a killing,
hoarding the world’s warm layers,
stuffing them into a thousand silent rooms
because they can.

I hate the icy ones 
those who let cold water drip
onto the tender heart,
until it shrinks,
starved and shivering
in their winter.

I hate the ones who ignore,
who let you drift like a ghost
through empty corridors of nothingness,
unseen, disconnected,
lost in the mist of disregard.

But I love the generous souls,
those who share their last crumbs of comfort.
Where laughter lingers in the kitchen,
hands pass the potatoes,
leaning close, raining stories,
whispering care.

I love the warm-hearted 
those who gather hugs like sunlight,
who unroll love from the sky
like long forgotten promises,
who reach out gentle hands
from the quiet.

I love those who make you feel seen,
who murmur kindness into the world,
who breathe hope into the air,
connecting with their small light,
gifting you a smile
that unrolls from the sky
like a promise remembered.

Peace whispers in white

The prompt for What's going on is black or white. I chose white as it reminded me of our trip a few weeks ago in Spring.
Sorry the poem is not very concrete as I just let a word take me on skies and let it slide down the hills to wherever it takes me.

We were so lucky!  We spend a few days of holiday in the south. We initially thought we couldn't reach our destination as Burkes Pass was closed because of snowfall. We gambled it and when we came to the pass, the sun shining, the road clean. We drove through magic landscape and took it all in, in awe and peace whispered in white. 

Peace whispers in white

The mountains exhale white.
Light shimmers on their robes,
and this pure world
asks for nothing
only to be seen.

The mountains lean close to the water.
The lake waits,
its wide hands cupping the aqua
that sparkles with silver stars.

Nothing is urgent here.
Peace whispers in white.

The sky clings to my skin.
I shiver and let the white world
purify my heart,
let its simplicity breathe serenity,
its wisdom fracture into colour,
and in that quiet breaking
I feel the pulse of life return
a hush before creation,
where I write my life
upon its empty page,
and new stories rise like dawn.

Lake Tekapo

Lake Tekapo

Lake Tekapo

Lake Pukaki and Mount Cook

    Lindis Pass

The sound of silence

Written to the prompt Silence for the local poetry club 

Not all sound comes from noise.
Sometimes the loudest truths live in the quiet between words.
Listen closely as silence has stories to tell

The sound of silence

Silence
an underrated sound
in a world of noise.
A tool to turn chaos
into soft connection,
where energy carves
the air itself
and settles into fibres.

Silence
an eloquent answer
when words aren’t valued.
Dust of empty words
blurs the vision.
Silence clears the sky,
its hush
shocks the thunder.

Silence
the pause
where truth cuts through
the noise and motion,
the key to mental clarity,
the entrance
to wisdom’s chambers.

Silence
where tension simmers
between notes,
where emotion gathers its breath
and bursts
into the echo
of melody.

The other side

 

The Other Side

At the end of a question
I don’t always find answers,
but I do find doors
to new ways of being.

I wore admiration like silk,
but it frayed in silence.
I feared being unseen,
forgot the sky has no label.

I unbuttoned the world
to find its naked truth,
found the breath between thoughts,
the pause that needs no name.

I touched the space
that quiet beauty beyond self,
where you breathe
air from the other side.

I danced with it,
was moved by it,
witnessed it,
and grew quietly through it

and found myself,
once more,
on the other side of the question.

Whirl through wonder

dVerse Poets Pub 
Quadrille #235 "Take your poem for a whirl around the block"  Posted by whimsygizmo

The prompt for Poets and Story tellers United is What do you like about the dark

Photo Brendon Ghilchrist, Christchurch

Whirl through wonder

Curling in my sleeping bag,

I gaze at a swirling starlit sky

in the darkest depths of night.

At Lake Tekapo,
lights pinned high,

whirl through wonder,
tracing the Milky Way’s endless maze,

spilling a neural network

of celestial beauty.

Mind and matter mending.

https://dversepoets.com

The house of perception

Old furniture in our (1940-50) kitchen 

 

Shared with OpenLink Night #395 dVerse by Bjorn Rudberg 

Part 1 - The House of Perception

Perception is not just noticing
it is a magic world,
where every glance,
every sensation,
is folded into the tapestry
of what we call reality.

We use the threads we weave
to predict the world ahead,
tracing patterns
that mirror what we believe.

Sometimes we test and adjust,
sculptors shaping the clay
of our house of knowledge.

Other times,
we grow fond of a sunlit room
furnished with cherished ideas.
When the world rattles the windows,
we draw the curtains,
guarding the safety
of our inner home.

We live,
surrounded by our stories,
our maps and our illusions 
this magic we call perception,
the house we build for ourselves.

Part 2 Inviting the New

Exploring new ideas
is like bringing home new furniture.
Sometimes they don't fit
with what we have.

A mix of rejection
and curiosity stirs.
We feel the clash,
then the comfort
of the new chair,
where we sit and watch
the old pieces in quiet.

We pause,
seeking clarity in the fog.

Slowly, harmony
finds the rooms
we thought were fixed,
and slowly our fog clears.

Excitement rises.

In the end,
our house expands,
we expand.
free.

breathing in the space
between expectation
and surprise,
where truth unpacks
its boxes.

dVerse | Poets Pub