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 Apr 28
Timothy H
little bags of temporary peace

theology, therapy, scientific explanation

holiness cannot be spoken into these hand bags

but-but

you can hear a gentle whisper

with an evening’s bird song

watching clouds for hours

when children play

but-but

you cannot seek this out

it is when the (moment / holy other / universe) chooses to present itself

and you are vulnerable enough to open your chest
 Apr 28
Immortality
They still carry love,
from lives once lived,
walking paths with
belief in destiny.

Their love so surreal,
kissed by every wound.

She cloaked in petals,
with a bleeding heart.

Just as tree waits
for spring to bloom,
he waits for her,
to heal him.
'Love is immortal'
An eternal love between her and her past lover, waiting to entwine again.
 Apr 28
Damocles
Petrified like taxidermy
My false eyes fail to see clearly
Is it that the world stopped turning
Or am I lost in torpor?
Cold blooded brumation,
Tipping the scales to see if—
Anubis’s thinks I’ve been a good boy
Send me to the underworld
Where I can find a glimpse of her
Neither acid or alkaline
But she moves me like phosphorus
And I can see the light,
Like a dandy moth—
Dancing to my end.
Not sure
 Apr 28
Bekah Halle
It always feels
forever out of reach;
the finish line,
that momentous victory speech.
 Apr 28
Bekah Halle
I open my curtains to the world outside.
Leaves trembling in the frigid air.
As they drop, to the earth, by-and-by,
Narnia’s Ice Queen’s power does declare:
Time for hidden places where I can etch new traces.

I remind myself: everything has its time and place
Even loss to make way for more.
Opening my wardrobe, warm winter jackets I embrace,
Grateful for their voluminous puffs protecting my core.
A new season evokes new faces.

Who will I become
In the ticking time,
Leaving behind all that is unwelcome;
My limiting beliefs and the voice of compunction,
So I can reset homeostasis.
Not sure about the title: is there a better one?

Here are a couple of suggestions:
Wrapped in Warmth
A duel with Narnia’s Ice Queen
Cocooned

Any others?
 Apr 28
Bekah Halle
Whispers deep within, cry out “hear me, here in,”
I desire to be heard,
I desire to be seen,
I desire to be acknowledged, as something more than what could have been.

You’ve tried to ignore it,
You’ve tried to do what’s right,
What’s sensible, what’s to be applauded,
Rather than what your heart yearns: to be revelled in delight!

Pure indulgence,
Disdainful scorn,
Narcissisms decadence,
All that should be off-sworn.

But denial has only left me stuck,
I have lived a cognitive dissonance existence,
A state of **** and muck.
I wish for more, I want to rise above the resistance, insistence and self-persistence…

I wish to be MORE curious,
I wish to be larger,
I wish to be more spontaneous,
And live a life full, but not “full” of what ifs, that’s what I rather.

So here I am,
Now, what do I do?!
.
.
.
.
Take the next step…

into the dream,

For there, I hope,  will be the next clue!
I just got off the phone with my Chaplain Supervisor and I realised that I had stopped taking stock of what I am grateful for, and my authentic curiosity had become dormant —maybe the colder days had signalled, subliminally, dormancy?! But I need to breathe new life into it, resurrect it if you would, my curiosity. The result: this poem. Feedback welcome.
 Apr 27
Bekah Halle
and that's what I just
don't get
what makes a poem move?
make someone wet?

I try to be deep,
To be funny,
I try to be whimsical
And visceral so that you can taste honey.

Sometimes I rise,
Many more times, I collapse.
There are pages upon pages I despise,
bored with them, perhaps?


but...

Is it the outcome,
or is it the process?
Does that make poetry?

Help me, please…

Compelled to make sense?!
Whimsical musings… need to get ready for work!!!
 Apr 27
Bekah Halle
Mud cakes, sand castles, dress ups and... Make-believe;
Child-like curiosity, awe, wonder and...
Other-world conceive.
Silence, in a busy grownups world gives opportunity for playfulness you can retrieve,
Embrace these moments, seek them out, faith like a mustard seed, oak trees sprout.
Inspired by Psalm 68:3-4 (NLT) and my inner child.
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