If only

If only

By marja blom

If only I could reach the stars
to paint a smile upon its face
to let it smile to every soul

lost in the daunting darkness
 

If only clouds could help these stars

to let it rain drops from the sky
to let it wash down all the sorrow
leaving simply hope to dry

 

If only rays could warm our souls
melting down the icy walls

architecture of our ego

separating you and me
 

when walls fall we will be free

nothing to lean on but each other
turning you and me in we
We can build eternally
 

build a stairway to the stars

to paint a smile upon it's face

If only you could go to writers island to read many other poems

My friend Julie

Last week I catched up with some old friends and one of them was Julie. I hang out at the art centre on Saturday morning where Julie had an exhibition. Julie is a sculpture and her passion is the ocean. Julie has organised the New Brighton Water festival and was involved in many other projects to promote the ocean which is important to all of us as 50% of the world's oxygen is produced by the plankton in the ocean.

We met each other because our daughters were friends. Because Julie lives near the ocean we had many beach walks together and lunches in her lovely garden. I am looking so forwards to the summer to go to the beach again. But first delightful spring is coming. The Cherri blossom is already out and it is such a treat.

More of Julie's work I have a bunch of  her beautiful flowers made out of flax in a vase at home.

Quote of the week

"We have thought of peace as passive

and war as the active way of living
The opposite is true
War is not the most strenuous life.
It is kind of rest cure compared

to the task of reconciling our differences.
From War to Peace is not from the strenuous
to the easy existence.

It is from the futile to the effective,

from the stagnant to the active,
from the destructive to the creative way of life..

The world will be regenerated by the people

who rise above these passive ways
and heroically seek by whatever hardship,
by whatever toil
the methods by which people can agree."

Mary Parker Follett

A trip to the city

The winter has been wet and dark. In a couple of weeks spring starts again and  we will be making more trips to the city as there will be always something going on in spring and summer. It is already starting
There was an Indian exhibitian and dancing in the art gallery called "colours of India" Very vibrant colours as you can see. You can visit it till the 22nd of August. Next week another friend who makes sculptures wil have an exhition at the Art Gallery.

A touch of Indian culture in the Art Gallery. Baswhati posed for me in one of her nice dresses

A shot of  part of my favourite place in Christchurch: The Art Centre It was a former High School and University. Now you can buy here arts and crafts.

In the summer we eat here some food  and listen to music while having this view

Even the trees are dressed warmly this winter

The Guest House

I love this poem I came along

Guest house in NZ

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

Spellbound

Time to stop and take a breath. A breath just long enough for a simple poem for writers island.

Vincent van Gogh

Spellbound
by marja blom

She is a dreamer

they say

not switched on

they say

missing so much
not running the race

 nor making the money

to get all you want

They are not awake

she says

running past

she says

missing the magic

 light and love

not standing still
to find all you need

Get spellbound by great poems and stories on writers island

Looked after by angels

by Marja Blom

Have you ever asked for a sign — and gotten one in the most unexpected way? Here’s a little story from my life about guardian angels, feathers, and gentle reminders that we’re never truly alone.

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When I was young, after any big fall that left me without a scratch, I would always say without a doubt, “I have great guardian angels.” It was just something I said, without giving it much thought—until about a year ago.

I read a post on Stoneweavers’ blog—she lives in Christchurch too—where she wrote about asking your angels to leave you a feather as a sign. It had worked beautifully for her. So, I decided to test it out myself. No feathers appeared all day.

The next morning, I woke up to find half the house covered in feathers. It turned out my daughter had hurriedly packed a feather boa to work that day. After work, she went straight to a dress-up party—dressed as an... angel, complete with feathers, wings, and a halo. The day before, she had told me she hadn’t found a costume yet!

Over the last six months, I’ve faced some struggles and thought maybe my angels were on strike. So, last week, I asked for a sign again. For a few days, nothing. Then, on a walk in the park with a friend, we walked right into an... angel with feathered wings. I quickly took a picture.

It was a wonderful sign—proof that I am still watched over by angels, just like you.