How often do you stop?
When ever
do you
listen to the silence?
Do you ever embrace
the total peace
that being
at one
with nature brings?
Reach out and touch the sky.
Watch clouds,
float by.
Be still.
Be quiet.
Only let
the murmur of a breeze,
or the song
of a distant bird,
be heard.
Open
your eyes.
Look up and see,
the delicate blossom
of a woodland tree.
Look down
at wild, hedgerow flowers.
Observe
the easy
bumble bee.
Sit back,
let the silver sand,
be your comfy seat.
Allow the sound
of the rushing tide
to soothe, restore.
Relax, in your retreat.
Gaze up
to the mountains,
magnificent and fine.
Breathe
the pure intoxication,
of the forest air
of pine.
Connect
with spirits
of ancient ancestors,
at their monuments
and burial grounds.
Hear their whispers
from centuries past.
Wallow in their sounds.
Clear your head
of busy chatter.
Banish demons
from your mind.
Embrace the life
of your earth mother,
as you let your soul
unwind.
© Nicki Tilston.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 5:17 AM UTC
I’m partial to
a paddle in the sea.
As long as the water
only comes up to my knee.
I don’t like being
out of my depth,
as I can’t swim more
than a breadth
I like the sea
to be clear.
Don’t want a shark
Up my rear.
A jelly fish wobbling
round my toes,
or a dolphin
with a bottle nose
I don’t mind a ripple,
or a gentle wave.
But when surf’s up,
I’m not very brave.
I need to see
to the bottom of the sea.
In case a crab
takes a nip out of me!
© Nicki Tilston
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 5:07 AM UTC
I’m singing the blues
Saying good bye to my shoes
The red patent high heels
With the shine that appeals
The shoes that made me feel hot
Whether I looked it or not
Made me walk with a wiggle
Made my back side jiggle
Gave me a **** demeanour
Made my legs feel leaner
Helped me walk tall
On the days I felt small
The same red shoes, so sweet
That are now tight on my feet
Which squash my big toe
And somehow, they know
That I’ve got dickie knees
So I’ll never wear skis
Not to mention arthritic hips
Which cause a total eclipse
When I bend over
And moreover
I walk just like I’ve got off my horse
So I’ve got to bid farewell, of course
Part company with my lovely red shoes
That is why I’m singing the blues
…..They should sell on ebay pretty quick
….. I’ll spend the money on a walking stick
©Nicki Tilston
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 9:13 PM UTC
There's a secret place
Where the birds fly free
It's a land of peace
Of tranquility
You go down the valley
Up the hill
Turn right at the farm
Left at the Mill
But you'll never find it
Unless you know
The meaning of peace
And let your self go
To a land of solitude and calm
Where your soul is free
Safe from harm
Where the clouds and mist
Become as one
Where a rainbow appears
Along with the sun
The cows and sheep
Live in harmony
Where a stream runs
Under the Beechnut tree
It doesn't matter
If it's rain or shine
Life goes on
In it's own good time
It's a magical place
Where time stands still
There's no one to rush you
To make you feel ill
You can sit all day
Just looking at the view
At peace with the beauty
Mother nature gives to you
At the end of the day
You won't believe your eyes
As the sun sets over mountains
With pink and orange skies;
When night falls
You'll sleep like an exhausted child
In this secret place
Where horses run wild
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
TWEETS
I've never felt
The need to tweet
Does that mean
I'm incomplete?
My many thoughts
My words of wit
Have not been shared
By means of twit
Give me facebook
I'll wax lyrical
About life and love
And things satirical
But don't ask me
To send a tweet
I'll run away
Get cold feet
Wouldn't know how
To make a start
Don't think I'll ever want
To learn the art
I'm starting to feel
Like a real Luddite
A bit old fashioned
Not very bright
Hashtag this and that
What's that all about?
Think I'm going to
Have to bale out
Of these constant developments
In means of communication
I can't keep up
I need a bit of stagnation
Take time out
Do some meditation
Sit back, relax
Get some sedation
Enjoy the sounds of nature...
...Now that is sweet
...Listen to the birds sing
...Tweet, Tweet, Tweet!
Nicki Tilston
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
A faded photograph
Hangs on the wall
Evoking memories
Of times gone before
Transporting me back
To younger days
Of innocence and dreams
Of simpler ways
Those vintage times
When life was fun
With skies of blue
Endless days in the sun
Carefree years
Of summer wine
Status Quo on the record player
Singing Sweet Caroline
"Every Sha la la la
Every wo wo wo still shines.."
Why can I still remember
All the lines
Of those songs played
Oh, so long ago
Across the waves
Of my radio?
"I think I love you
Isn't that what I'm afraid of?.."
Lyrics never forgotten
45 rpm statements of love
Radio Luxembourg playing
Hidden under the covers
With melodies about life
Betrayal and lovers
"You're the best thing
That ever happened to me..."
Nothing learnt in school recalled
So well as lyrics from '73
Dancing Queen was another
Vinyl classic joining the mix
To enter my subconscious
In 1976
I glance in the mirror
Expecting to see
A reflection of the girl
Who used to be me
Someone carefree
Someone bold
Instead, I see an image
Of a woman growing old
The years have flown
For this troubled soul
Who's lived a life
Which has taken it's toll
The eyes are tired
The hair's turning grey
The heart's battered with scars
The wrinkles here to stay
Then I think of those songs
From the days of my youth
Considered classic gems
Now I'm long in the tooth
They're still being played
Still giving pleasure
Just like the old girl in the mirror
They're vintage treasure
Nicki Tilston.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
At the back of the cupboard
I skulk
You don't need me any more
So I sulk
Discarded and alone
Getting dusty
Hardly used any more
Smelling musty
There was a time long ago
When you loved me
You showed me off
When you made your friend's tea
You used to wash me and dry me
Make me feel smug
Now you've replaced me
With a tea bag in a mug
But today might be
My lucky day
I hear your Mother's
On her way
I know how fussy she can be
I know she'll insist
On a proper *** of tea
She'll turn up her nose
At your common mug
She'll want a nice tea ***
And a china cup
With some milk
From a proper milk jug
Nicki Tilston
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
The girl with the kite
Didn't have a care
She'd run on the beach
With the wind in her hair
She'd run up hills
Lie in fields of wild flowers
Gazing at the ever changing sky
She would dream for hours
The girl with the kite
Saw faces in the sky
Angels looking down on her
From clouds floating by
She'd hold on so tight
As her kite took flight
She said she'd never let go
Of her beautiful kite
The girl with the kite
Would make daisy chains
She'd pick clover and butter cups
As she walked country lanes
Life was simple
Or it seemed that way
The sun was always shining
When she went out to play
The girl with the kite
Started to grow
She felt under pressure
To let her kite go
Demands were made
For her to achieve and perform
Make her way in the world
Please other people and conform
The girl with the kite
Felt things were going wrong
It was hard growing up
Then a man came along
He played his guitar
He brought a bouquet
As he sang his sweet song
Her kite drifted away
The girl with the kite
Heard his sweet song turn sour
His true colours were shown
As the man used his power,
Manipulation and aggression
To clip her wings
To crush her spirit
To pull her strings
The girl with the kite
Felt she was to blame
For her bad choices
She hid her shame
Kept her sadness a secret
Tried to make things right
Trapped in her world
She lost her self in the fight
The girl with the kite
Wanted to die
She couldn't live any more
She had no kite to fly
She went to the Doctor
Who gave her some pills
They just made her numb
Didn't cure her ills
The girl with the kite
Slept for a decade, or more
Life went on around her
Each day was a chore
She had to wake from the inertia
She had become bereft
When she woke from the dark sleep
She had nothing left
The girl with the kite
Had to start anew
Like a Phoenix from the ashes
She knew she'd pull through
She's found her kite
Found a beach for it to blow
Up to the angels on their clouds
This time, she won't let go
The girl with the kite
Is now a woman, strong and proud
Content to live her life alone
Independent and unbowed
She flies her kite sedately
Life is not a race
She's free to fly it when she wants to
It flies at her own pace
Nicki Tilston.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC