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~
Tonight underneath debris
Family foreclosure
...
Heaven's legs dawn through window
Offer artificial hope
...
Employee to love
Dressed for escape
...
Pleasure town angel
A multi-color pretty thing
...
Mom questions way
Daughter drives to parties
...
Empty lips talk
**** reflection patterns
...
Death inside mom and dad
Beautifully cold skin
...
War god kiss
Midnight blue people (at dinner table)
...
Young shadows flower
Final stars fire
...
Money born cloud
Raining on remnants of family
...
Is there nothing
Left to mortgage?

~
I leave it to you with fondness.

How you used to fill it on those lazy Sundays
with fresh blooms from the neighbor's garden.

You would blame the kids from across
the street and we'd laugh
as their dad chased them around the yard
with a belt.

And when they would die, as they were wont to do,
you'd replace them with your paranoid
king's fiddlesticks.

He'd come out of the castle in a dither.

But you always convinced him
it was the handiwork of little green men
--who looked very much like
the kids from across the street.

Ah, remember the fire and how we danced?

Yes, my dearest captive
--the face that launched a thousand ships--

I leave it to you with only the warmest sentiments.

Love, Paris.
I.
Love has a pulse
A rhythm method
Sometimes
Hand in hand
Others
Hand-to-hand
Best wedding gift:
A book of matches
For those times of
Darkness ahead

II.
Coming out of the ether
The gravitate to "we"
Is no longer in
Simulation
We are space
Outer and uncharted
Breathe deep now
Once again
Let pressurization
Begin

III.
Spontaneous
Combustion
Magic hour
Learn by repetition
Crouching tiger, hidden dragon
Tongue on the verge
Circling the rosebud
Like the rise of an empire
Blown by the wind
Every which way
The blissful vein
Is tapped into

IV.
Localized storm
Waves against the sandbags
Not quite filled enough
Water gets in
Does its damage
The insurance policy
With no flood coverage
We are now indeed
An island

V.
Sacrificial offering
Open palms
Bowed heads
Recite your sorrows
And count the losses
Forgiveness comes like
Piecemeal
A little at a time

VI.
Something new
And loud and wet
Love has a different hue
To its sky
It will be cloud free
Never again
A hunt for a nap
Or dreams of napping
In this maddening mosaic
That blurs the line between
Caretaker and sleepwalker

VII.
Endurance wins the race
Not good intentions
Home can survive
The change of seasons
We plant the flowers
We water the lawn
We rake the leaves
We prune the trees
This is our garden
If we don't tend to it
Who will?
Toll - a tax or fee paid for some liberty or privilege.
~
July 2025
HP Poet: Bekah Halle
Age: 40+
Country: Australia


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Bekah. Please tell us about your background?

Bekah Halle: "I am known at HP as Bekah Halle. My first name is Rebekah, and Halley is my middle name. I am the eldest of two girls, the aunt of three gorgeous girls and the eldest of 20+ cousins.

I am a counsellor and a chaplain for people across all ages. But, in my early career I was a PR & Marketing Consultant for FMCG companies and non-profits.

I am creative and love art, drama, photography, poetry, and music. Recently, I have become more captivated by nature, writing about it and being out in nature."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Bekah Halle: "As a child, I used to love writing stories, and poetry later. In some ways you could say poetry found me. In 2012 I had surgery to remove a brain aneurysm and AVM that resulted in a stroke and then being in a 40-day coma. Healing involved many modalities, locations and years and poetry was a way for me to express the things I was thinking and feeling but could not say. I didn't show them to anyone until I completed a MA in Chaplaincy and during the course, there was a reflective writing element to process our journey. During this time I brought my poetry ‘out of the closet’ or into the light, and shared with people and they encouraged me to continue writing. I looked for ways to share my poetry, to get feedback and found HP! And you all have been very encouraging!"


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Bekah Halle: "I mostly get inspired by faith and life. I can get a stirring from the Holy Spirit and/or I can be in life and see a moment as special or in a new light and want to capture it in words. I will write, re-write and set it aside or sometimes it comes to me in a flash. The poetry writes me."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Bekah Halle: "Life. Expression. Hope. Extolling God."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Bekah Halle: "I studied Samuel Coleridge in High School and still remember his poems today. The Psalmists in The Bible, Emily Brontë, Sylvia Plath, Victor Hugo, Mary Oliver, Jane Tyson Clement, Rainer Maria Rilke, David Scott…to name a few."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Bekah Halle: "The power of gratitude, fitness, travel and learning."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Bekah, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Bekah Halle: "Thank you for the opportunity."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Bekah a little bit better. We certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #30 in August!

~
On my walls hang two pieces of art;
large canvases boldly splashed
with colour, stroke upon stroke form vivid arcs.

I wish I had kept my father's paintbrushes,
they were tools of masterpieces.
From them, my strokes could have made faces flush
and inspired songs and poetry; love?

*
But, perhaps ‘twas a blessing to create with unique expression and freedom.
Dad died in January a couple if years ago. We had a fickle relationship driven by his narcissistic personality and childhood wounds. Sad.
Down by the Murray River,
where life swims all around;
above and beneath the surface,
in this heat, everything flows.
Beers, BBQs, budgie smugglers and babes in bikinis,
memories bobbing above ground
capturing freedom; post-pandemic and pre-celebrations.

Down by the Murray River,
watching things flow safely and soundly,
birthing new possibilities:
boyfriends, babies, businesses and brews?!
Endless possibilities abound,
prophecies realised; salvation.

Down by the Murray River,
with nature, our souls sing loudly,
simplicity is possible,
trusting and enjoying,
everything is allowed.
I want to live my best life;
Getting back up, after I fall.
Forgiving myself, after I fail.
Laughing, when I make mistakes.
Being patient, when things take time to re-learn.
Because I have time;
To fall, fail, learn and get back up again.
I have time to live my best life,
Every day.
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