The tapping of the boots and the creaking of the wood
Walking in a darkly sheet on a midnight creep,
The singing of the cicadas,
The soft passing of cars,
Start to hum me to sleep.

The blinding street lamp
Lights a night sky still blue,
The trees gently sleep
with their leaves scattered but not rustled,
Hanging low on a summer night’s cool air,
I watch on top of the balcony
Down by the road, no one is there

A summer night’s sky which should be so lovely and so fair
This one, like me, its hue is so lonely and blue

The scenery so still begins to darken
And so softly still the cicadas sing
From the balcony, alone, I harken
And as softly, peace, it brings.

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.

Languid tendrils of smoke unwind
The ashes of your affliction.
There is comfort in the sun's underbelly.
When you play half-lidded pool drenched in
Artificial lights, the night seems endless.
Once dusk falls, the world outside scatters
And settles together in close quarters
Like bunkers under air raid.

before the world swallows you whole,
leaving you barely able to exhale all that continues to weigh you down,
or inhale all that is destined to cast away your inner conflictions.

just...
breathe

The sea has gone to sleep:
Become a mirror of the sky.
Lapping onto the land
With subtle churnings.

It’s a brightly sunny day,
Uplifting the spirits.
Hardly a hint of breeze
As the tide creeps out.

I slumber in the languidness of *****’s beer.
All angst buried as I settle down to sleep.
That mighty, massive ocean is so still now.
Its monsters have been well and truly put to bed.

Blue sky
With lightly painted clouds upon the horizon.
My porch is warm today
In the golden sun.

Paul Butters

Her door was the sanctuary to inner peace; a sudden enlightenment
Engaging the candle of lit eyes.
Mindful to the calm hush; Disappearing in self.
Body, Mind, Soul.
Beside her door there was a lake wide awake with open ears.
I stood there Absorbing her wisdom.
A depth of kindness with each interchanging current.
I learned to speak without words. Connecting thine eyes with hers.
All else was swallowed; Exhaling, then breathing again.
Fingers extinguishing all else that threatened a light shone from her.
Her Eyes.
She'd shone me courage, grasping my hand. Entwining her path with mine.
I bowed to her and her alone in guided mediation.
At that moment there was no need for mirrors, realizing that she was my reflection.
My spirit animal, my refugee.
She taught me the language of her heart, being shown in silence.
I journeyed a place ears would have no use, my tongue becoming a stranger.
A total embodiment to the gift of her and her alone.
A beautiful lesson in poverty; Clinching my hands in prayer.
                                                         ­     Blessed in her presence