The moon screams.
I can hear its cries.
Its tears pour
through the trees
in the night sky.
It cries for you.
It cries for me.
It cries for us.
…what will never be.
Sleep,
sweet moon,
sleep.
There is time tomorrow
to weep.
- 21st June
2012 - 21
- 14th June
2012 - 14
Sunshine Fills My Lungs
The sound of sunshine
fills my lungs
with so much joy.
The warmth
soaking through me…
through my skin
through my bones
through my soul.
(Healing from within.)
I can hear it,
the sunshine,
resonating within me
like a child’s laughter
with the scent of freedom
on a cool, crisp morning.
The vibrations in the air
akin to a concert of emotion,
ears flooded with musical notes
and lyrical notions.
Its radiance knows no bounds.
My heart may burst
through my ribs
through my breasts
through my skin
to feel sunshine
at its core.
- 9th June
2012 - 09
Firefly
I danced with fireflies
by moonlight last night
alongside
the glowing embers
of a warm campfire,
much like
the glowing embers
of my heart.
I could feel
their tiny wings fluttering
like a million sweet kisses
on my summer skin.
I have danced with tiny gods.
- 8th June
2012 - 08
Feel
The heart isn’t meant as a life force. It isnt just a muscle to pump blood through our bodies and back like an engine runs a car. It’s purpose is to feel. Feel everything; your pounding heart in your chest, your lungs, gasping for breath, your muscles contracting and releasing as they work overtime, your skin tingling with the rush of adrenaline, and your hair blowing in fresh air. Just feel it. Every little bit of it. Feel your heart rush and race with passion and excitement. Feel it break with sadness and heartache. Feel it tugged on by sweet things and tender moments. Feel it crush with death and uncertainty. Feel it melt with sincerity and unexpected surprises. Feel it expand with laughter and love. Feel it overflow with birth and nature and all that life has to offer. But you aren’t really living, unless you remember to feel. Just feel.
- 1st June
2012 - 01
Hot Summer
Rain falls softly
on the blazing earth
immediately soaked up by its thirst.
It is far too damp outdoors
for my bones to feel fire.
Dust being washed away
from streets
and street signs.
Nature’s housekeeper working overtime.
Who will blow the dust
from my veins
and bring me back to life?
City walls are crumbling
from the stagnant heat
and roads breaking and falling apart
I think the bricks
are being used
to construct barricades
around my weakened heart.
- 29th May
2012 - 29
Grounded
Great oak,
mighty and strong,
withstands treacherous winds -
rooted deeply within the ground,
determined to stand tall,
sways gracefully with
heavens breath
but never falters.
Sweet sappling…
there is so much you could teach me.
(Source: innermedley)
- 29th May
2012 - 29
Grounded
Great oak,
mighty and strong,
withstands treacherous winds -
rooted deeply within the ground,
determined to stand tall,
sways gracefully with
heavens breath
but never falters.
Sweet sappling…
there is so much you could teach me.
- 26th April
2012 - 26
Lessons in Nature
Do you hear it?
The wind in the trees.
Leaves rustling, with knowledge,
of a storm pending
their veins - ready and waiting
patiently aching
for a sweet release
from the heavy sky.
Roots reaching -
below,
under foot,
and down
stretching southern legs
towards the center of the earth.
Branches reaching -
up
over head
and above
stretching northern limbs
towards the center of the universe.
Pulled -
in every direction.
Focused -
on so much.
And still…
the wise old tree
never fails
to look towards the sun.
- 25th April
2012 - 25
Lessons in Nature
Do you hear it?
The wind in the trees.
Leaves rustling, with knowledge,
of a storm pending
their veins - ready and waiting
patiently aching
for a sweet release
from the heavy sky.
Roots reaching -
below,
under foot,
and down
stretching southern legs
towards the center of the earth.
Branches reaching -
up
over head
and above
stretching northern limbs
towards the center of the universe.
Pulled -
in every direction.
Focused -
on so much.
And still…
the wise old tree
never fails
to look towards the sun.
- 3rd January
2012 - 03
Art in Flight
A spectrum of colors dance in the wind.
Butterflies with painted wings.
Art meant for flight.
To be adored.
To be seen.
- 12th December
2011 - 12
The way that people change during the phase of a full moon is just a reminder, lest we forget, that ultimately we are just part of the large picture that is nature…pure and simple.
