Tag Archives: poem

Of Star Gazing Into Tomorrow

Sometimes the random tweets I post wind up inspiring someone and magic just like poetry happens……..

We can sit and talk
or we can sit and stare at one another,
it’s up to you.

We can sit and talk
outside under a full moon

The magic of conversations
under the moonlit nights

Star gazing,
pure magic.

Counting heartbeats and stars

Dreaming of a future,
that never will be.

Dreams made on wishes,
of the light of stars long dead

Dimmed light within,
lone stars through the dark nights.
And no hope in our shattered hearts

The night sky revealing more than the day hides,
dim stars still shine
and hope,
hope springs from the kernels of shattered hearts.

When will it be over?
When shall it not hurt?
When can I recover
And to joy revert?
When the night is done,
And tears are dry.
When love’s bright sun
Breaks the dawning sky

Night ends,
Dawn breaks
Time flies,
Wounds heal,
Pain dims,
Storms end,
Skys clear,
Birds cheer,
and you realise its tomorrow.
A place different from today.

The darkness never goes away.
Tomorrow you say?
but tomorrow he still does not love me
and my heart is still in pain.
Tomorrow comes and the darkness remains,
I break and mend and break again
In spite of all my acting tough.

Falling apart,
to be remade again,
each piece,
exactly where it should be.
And when you are ready
it will find you.
Come find me when you wake up.
Thats what tomorrow whispers

falling apart

mended heart
~B
Day 23 of Africa Stories from Home

Miss Becka is certifed bookworm and can be found on Twitter: @melaninsodark

 

Of An Ode To Time

Existing as a whole,
Yet uniquely,
Fragmented,
Balanced,
The weakness of strength
Counter balanced by
The strength in weakness
Infinite possibilities,
All linked,
as the time piece turns,
Measuring,
Ticking,
Cogs within cogs within cogs,
turning,
Varying yet aligned
The shapes that give us form and the lessons we learn from.
Our mind and the Soul.
One mysterious,
the other simply complex,
one a machine,
the other a ghost within.
Birth and death,
Beginnings into Endings
To begin again,
As time just is
Connected to all things………,

Ending just as eventually all things END

The END

time

~B

Day 15 of my blog everyday challenge…… A poem, an ode to time, the mystery and fragility of life……

 

Of Heart Petals In The Wind

rose petals drifting

Once upon a time,
I stood by the window,
I watched as the breeze,
Blew away with harsh ease,
Petals from the flowers in my china mug vase,
I watched as they floated away from me,
Just like so many of my dreams,
petals from the deep folds of my heart,
one by one all but forgotten,
I watched still,
as the last petal blew past the window sill,
Freely given

rose petal in the wind
I held out my hand out the window,
and reached into the breeze,
I closed my hand around it,
and felt it flutter in the palm of my clasped hand,
like a tiny beating heart,
fluttering like a butterfly,
The happiness it brought was enchanting,
I feared clutching it to tightly would crush it,
yet I feared that opening my palm,
would free it to be gone forever,
freely given,
I unclapsed my hand,
to reveal the gift the breeze held.
If you too would float away,
My petal in the wind……

heart petal in hand

~B

5th part of a 6th part duet, I write something and Mable rights it

She last wrote: hearts

 

Of UnBreaking

heart shaped bandage

Hearts,
Hearts are delicate but never fragile,
They bruise but neither broken nor unravel
Like pieces of a favoured porcelain mug
With a bit of patience and a lot of glue,
I put back each piece as best as I could,
The sharp jagged edges cut as would tiny a razor blade,
A price I gladly pay for my mug remade.
If only it had turned out the way I hoped
Alas its a crazy quilt jigsaw,
Stitched up with nothing but glue,
Each day I learn to like it a little bit more,
Even appreciate its flaws as my own.
Its ok if nobody else likes it,
I am good all by myself.
The once favourite mug broken and glued together again,
Its no longer what it was,
It leaks ever so slightly still
Now a vase for a flower by the window sill…….

broken mug flower vase

 

~B

Third part of a six part duet; I write something and Mable rights it……

She Wrote: Bruised, Not Broken

 

Of The Broken Mugged Man

 

broken Mug

Broken china cup pieces,
Litter the kitchen floor,
I am awake picking up the shards,
A fragment of a red red heart,
Broken,
Just like mine,
Losing words and heat,
Just like me,
………………..shattered

broken heart mug
I never wanted much,
Now I expect even less.
Yesterday this was my favourite mug,
Today it’s a mess,
Yesterday I was loved,
Today I pick pieces from the floor,
A shattered mug bleeding out its core
Just like mine
……………….Unlovable,
Where do broken mugs go?
Time ticks everything away,
Picking up pieces from the floor,
I don’t weep I know how this story ends,
You told me yourself,
The unlovable wind up in one place
Just like me
………………..Discarded.

Discarded

 

~B

This is the first part of a six part duet, I write something then Mable rights it…..

 

Of Why I Write

flipping pages

Blank pages ……

I am genetically engineered to write,
My genes are punctuated with metaphors,
And an irresistible need to write..
I am writer,
It’s not what I do,
It is who I am,
I take off my shoes before I write,
To sort of humble myself before,
All the words inside of me,
Words written but never spoken,

Words to fill up the blank pages 

….You read a part of me in every word I write…
The parts of me you read, are not just pieces of me, but make me up.

Every word of mine you read,
You take a part of me with you

What will you do with the lil bit of my soul that you take with you?

Dipping a pen into my blood
I write myself a soul
pouring out a multitude of words,
brushing away the excess,
A little more of me drips onto every page,
In time,
I will be the book and the book will be me
and my story will be told

Becoming The Muse

 

~B

 

page scrolling

becoming the muse why I write 2018

Of My Selfish Love

being loved by a writer;

Dear Muse;

Heart.jpg

When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I am selfishly in love with you
I love myself through you.
I love seeing myself through your eyes,
I love seeing myself through my eyes,
imagining how I look through your eyes
I love watching you read the words I wrote
and secretly knowing that they are for your eyes only,
although the whole world can read them too,
When I say I am in love with you;
I mean I love to see you listening to all the stories I have to share,
I love having you to express to;
my opinions,
my profound theories and beliefs,
Especially the silliest things,
along with the important things in my life.
I love hearing myself say these things as I imagine how they sound to you,
and how enthralled I imagine you are with me as I am;
With me.

When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I love having;
Someone beautiful to wear,
like a favourite outfit.
I love the way you feel on me.
I love the way I feel about me when you are with me.
When I say I am love with you I mean I love how familiar you feel,
like I have known you forever,
in a place without time or in another life,
somewhere between my past life and my next life.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love not being alone.
I love not being that tree falling in the forest that no one heard;
That book that has never been read.
I love having you as my full-time personal audience.
When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I want you to give me all of your most precious gift;
Your Undivided Attention.
I want to be the reason your world lights up,
as you watch the fire that is me,
Burn.
I mean would burn down to the ground for you;
so you could watch me from its ashes rise like a phoenix.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with being your sun,
monopolizing your orbit, being your gravity,
keeping you drawn back to me no matter how hard you try to jump or fly,
keeping you down.
Keeping you mine.
Lighting up your world
When I say I’m in love with you what I mean is I love staring at myself in the mirror only to see you standing behind me smiling
When I say I’m in love with you I mean I love
being your mystery,
your riddle,
being what keeps you up at night,
your addiction,
your obsession.
I love being your altar,
your sacrament,
your icon,
your miracle.
I love being your answer.
I love being the object of your sacrifice.
I love being your pain.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean that if I had to write down what gives me joy in one word it would be your name,
I love your voice,
When you say my mine,
Your lips,
When you smile at me.
Your eyes,
When you looking at me,
And when you do all three at the same time;
For an instant; time stops.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with breathing your air, eating your dreams.
I’m in love with being your drug,
your drug dealer
your dagger
your lil secret
Your Joy
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next love,
about my ex-love,
About how they will never compare to you or understand me like you do
about how beautiful things were,
How crazy,
How intense,
How storybook,
What a couple we were,
and how you gradually, inexplicably,
Bit by bit,
Disappeared.
How I still wait for you like the man who can not be moved;
When I say I’m in love with you,
What I really mean is that
only you make me Me,
and all the stories I have yet to write;
You Are My Muse.

~B

Of A Blessed Woman

A Guest Post 

I Am Blessed Woman by Raquel

I am a blessed woman,
not because am good,
but because am loved by the perfect  one.
The one who brings out the best in me.
He loved me in my imperfections and brought out the best in me.
He sets a stage before me and made me the star of it.
His love is so electrifying.
It brings out that which He has deposited in me, it flows like rivers of living Waters.
I am blessed not because I have all the riches in the world,
but am loved by the one who owns it all.
All I need do is ask.
Am blessed because I have a lover Whose name move mountains,
Whose words create things.
He is majestic, so powerful, second to none.
Nothing compares to Him.
Who can make come to pass when He commanded it not.
The seas bow before Him,
the storms obey His command,
the dead rise at the mention of His name,
Oh how blessed am l.
It is a celestial blessing,
a bless compared to none.
I love you lover of my soul JESUS.
I am a blessed woman because you made me.

I am blessed.jpg guest

A guest post by the blessed Raquel who featured on my last coffee chat Mused by a stranger. Funny story she says she is a little shy to share anything about herself to strangers but I say watch this space……..

~B

 

 

Of The Silent Treatment

Love.jpg

Love

She was Stubborn,

He was Patient,

Or maybe he was Obstinate,

And she was Persistent;

Yet back to back they sat,

And neither said a word,

Only silence,

An invisible wall

Too flimsy to see

until with time it was an unbreakable barrier,

and the price of silence;

regret……©

~B

PS inspired by the image**

**The image is of a sculpture titled Love by Alexander Milov from Odessa, Ukraine exhibited at the Burning Man Festival.

“The outer and inner expression of human nature….. Their inner selves are executed in the form of transparent children, who are holding out their hands through the grating. As it’s getting dark (night falls) the children start to shine. This shining is a symbol of purity and sincerity that brings people together and gives a chance of making up when the dark time arrives.”

~Alexander Milov

Photo: credit Dust to ashes©