Tag Archives: creativity.

Mercurial World, Wild Life!

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Filthy sky scrolling
out from the west.
Light descending is if a
dirge leads its way home.
I look at my unlived self
as my ample, ageing arms
reach in to pull me,
inside out…..

Now, for once,
I swirl like a wave
of lightening rather
than wailing of the
banshee under the tree.
Nothing, in the manmade
world is worth the sacrificing,
of mine or any other
creative soul.

I shall rage till all this threat
to life is whipped by
tongues of flame,
moulded by fingers
of the Alchemist
and I am free to transmute
it into the Light, here now,
in the wild and beautiful
of this mercurial world.

I Believe……

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I Believe…….

I am a big ‘Little Me’.
I inhabit a large body,
a body of size, a body housing
a big Spirit and a minimal mind.
In my head I am a dancer, a diver,
an elegant, tall, thin Sally……
and then I giggle a smidging
at the very ‘notioned’ thought……
I laugh at myself as I pirouette
around and about, in and out
of all parts of me……………
Yet then I see this ageing self
in the glass upon the wall ….
a self where the years have
garnerd lines, rolls, width and curves
and I wonder:
“do I truly believe this is really me?
Who is ‘Me’? Where does the ‘I’
in me reside?” and inwardly I
toss my aching shoulders skyward!
All I know is this: my belief doesn’t
KNOW what I know about me……
skinny, vulnerable ‘Little Me’.

Brilliance of Blue

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Brilliance of Blue

There is a little piece of sky
falling in my heart,
…. it falls right into my hands.
I say to sky:
“Sky, why are you so blue?”
Sky replies:
“I am blue because I am your enriched
creative expression. I fell into your hands
as a gift from your heart……
I am your voice, your stroke of the brush,
the architect of your words….
I am fuel for your creation; use me.”
I look back at sky and see rainclouds gathering.
“And what are these clouds about you in my hands?”
asked I….
“They are the tears in me who have gathered
like a reservoir of grief which pour upon your life.”
“Ah” say I,
“I know this all too well as the ground is too wet
for me feet to feel safe upon it…… so I stare down
instead of looking up at you and your brilliance of Blue.”

“Precisely” says sky. “Precisely that.”

Sky

Creating Between Worlds

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Creating Between Worlds

Creating Between Worlds

I see,
as I am drifiting
slipping and sliding,
in and out of sleepiness….
an international
” Small Stones: writing our way home”
road show……

We gather and go
reeling and peeling our small stones
up and down the lands…..
we bring the word and the world together,
united in poetic justice,
artistic license for the sake
of the spark of creative vision
in each and everyone of us….

I am in Love with the deliciousness
of sleepytime visions which come
when the house in my heart is
providing shelter for me and others
on this journey…….
Come write with me….
come write our way home.

Transmuting

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Transmuting 

The skies sit like non risen dough, 
heavy and flat.
Water swims on pavements and roads 
as if oozing from the earth 
and all feels very Novemberly; 
dank, dark, cold as winter earth. 
The darkness of my shelter is heavier than ever.
I, like the skies feel heavy and flat
as my emotions want to ooze from every pore.
I would like to gauge holes in my roof 
to allow the joyous light into every corner, 
so desperate is my longing.
I would like to peel off the layers of a heavy life
and tucking them into an envelope,
I would post them off to the 
“Department for Heavy Lives”…..
Perhaps they have a Joyback scheme.
If they did have such a place, I would peel and pare 
until every joyless thought and action were replaced 
with Autumn’s Acacia golds, Beech rusts 
and the chestnuttiness of the faithful Oak……….
Yet for now, dancing with my thoughts and words 
are enough to heal cold, empty spaces in me.