Lyrics of love

 

Happy mothers day to all mothers and especially mine 😊

 

Lyrics of love

Segments of memory merge
with slanting light, shaped like
staves of star like extensions
illuminating the stories
of the past where
lyrics of love emanate
from memories of my mother
Vibrations tucked behind words
Vibrations bounce off a tear
while grasping the depth
as beyond the surface
lies the essence of a mother
who has hold me
nurtured me into being
released me into the unseeing skies
Where I have found my place
My wings soar in freedom
carried by the echo of her song 

Only shreds of her strength remain
in her once robust house of being
The light still shines through
the windows of her soul
and flashes of the past
are now a warm blanket
covering my inner child
She liberated us into the world
like a warrior of love
walking a thousand miles
battling in the war of life
Her last footsteps will again
leave lasting imprints
to be followed into eternity

The Painter

The painter

Purple flames hug a Nikau Palm
Shreds of blue, brown and orange
seeped from the centre of the artist
A pulsing heartbeat transformed
into paint, electrifying colours,
splashes of passion painted

by the one who presents the essence
of what he sees and senses, to the world
His brush dances softly on canvas
in tones of Turquoise and Terra Cotta
He smiles in red and cries in raindrops
reflecting refracted light in rainbow colours

His pain is in the eyes of a face he sketched
touching the sadness in your soul
His love meanders through a river in watercolour
scintillating on the surface, flirting with the sun
On top, a blue boat having an intimate affair
with the water while sailing to freedom

With strokes of magic the painter talks
to you in fabulous shapes and forms
When you stare silently you hear the echo
of the universe translating the painting
into a poem on the music of your heart
You are learning the language of beauty

Autumn of life

 Finally a poem again for Poets and Storytellers united 

Autumn of life

I am in the autumn of my life
spring petals long gone
the blossom still hiding in my heart
shining through the mist

Leaves are red golden now
together an anthology
of experiences caught
in a cocktail of everyday life

mixed in my mind
I now possess a few pearls of wisdom
investments monetised each day
although my inner child

still throws a tantrum
I try to soothe it
with timeless patience
to align her like a bird in flight

soaring across the horizon
to give her a wider view
to see the glowing hillsides
to see the setting sun kindle the sky

There are still a thousand clouds
and a hundred dreams left
and though the days left are less
and the dance slower

life is more graceful and thoughtful
and autumn days are filled
with fuzzy socks, walks in the woods
and complex life purified into poetry

Exercise in self-love

For Poets and Storytellers United

I love myself.’
the
quietest.
simplest.
most
powerful.
revolution.
ever.
Nayyirah Waheed 

Exercise in Self-love

I practice self-love in the mirror
“I love you woman “You’ve got this”
An empty canvas of emotions
stares back at me
What is this self-love?
What is love?
When young I had no eye
for the rose I now adore.
The rose did not change
Maybe an inner torch
connected me to the inner
source that knows beauty
My heart beats to the universe

When young I fell for 
bewildering infatuation
Was this love?

I got scars from

the broken pieces

of the jar of life.

I connected through
my wounds and learned
about love as

separation evaporated

A sensitive soul handled
my scars with care

I learned to accept
my imperfections
my shaded reflections
on the lilac lake of life 

Now when it rains inside

I seek shelter despite

a ceaseless ticking clock

I rest under the golden

moon and silver stars

I still wear the night

but also dress in radiant rays

as I was meant to shine

like a tangerine sun

I paint the world with light

but paint does not hold on all surfaces

and love is not always enough
and what is love?

I falter as I look in the mirror
“You’ve got this”
I wait “and?”
“I am learning to love you woman”
The mirror smiles back

Marja Blom

Wildness

I wrote this poem in the visitor book in the Bach we stayed at Fox river on the West Coast of the South island of NZ a few weeks ago, although it is slightly edited
I share it here with Poets and storytellers United

Wildness

We inhale the wildness
Washing the hustle
and bustle from our mind
The daily this and that
do not matter
The ocean doesn't care
We are entranced 
by it's vibrant voice
calling us with a roar
waves unfolding
a fuming fading tapestry
welcoming us
teaching us to retreat
Telling us tales of far-off
poetic places 

What matters is the silver
sand born from the sea
rugged rocks towering above
sea singing its lullaby,
birds, elegant white lines
on bright blue canvas
piercing cries of freedom

On the mystic altar of stone
we offer our grace
as we have come home
as we have received
a gift of peace
Imprints of seagulls,sea,sand
synchronise with our soul.

beach shack oasis

We stayed in this bach for a few nights. There is no electricity except for lights connected to a battery. No cellphone reception either. But it was a little paradise straight on the beach.
 

West Coast vegetation, opposite the entrance to the Truman track

Rocks carved by the ocean

Clear water close to the Nile river track

Our beach

An altar with stones

Sunset

Gulls on the rocks

twilight on the beach

sunset on the 2nd day

        Rocks along the river track by Panakaiki

Forgiveness

Poem for Poets and Storytellers United
I witnessed a fight between parents and their adult child It was sad and I had to write a poem about it

Forgiveness

They spoke a different language
not hearing each other’s needs
Flowering had ceased
petals dropped off its stem
Glory gone but not forgotten
Ruptured roots forever intertwined
under a blanket of silent memories
of cuddles and conversations
of laughs on long summer nights
that sprinkled silver on their souls 
Now a stream of sadness
seeps deep into the damp earth
Shriveled petals of ego on top
as the right to be wanted
is jumbled and muddled
by the want to be right
The decay of dreams begins

In this raw dirt of reality
re-enter the cycle of love 
by scattering sweet seeds
of gentle forgiveness 
to exile unexamined expectations
to accept our humanness
to erase the winter
Seeds watered with warm words
caressed by a waft of wind 
waiting for the dawn of spring
when the sun tentatively touches
the new expecting earth
from which flowers sprout
in red, yellow and purple
and laughter is heard again
in the back garden where
souls bask in a golden glow