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21h · 30
Just stop, trying
Just stop, trying,
Just, stop, trying. No more,
Let it pass, stop denying.
Wipe the tears, drying, lift your eyes,
No more nigh in, or fighting or sighing,
But more yes.
And more success!
And more belief through accepting divine relief.
1d · 62
Heatwave
Why do we call it a heat wave?
No one is saying hello or goodbye,
The heat stifles; we are immovable.
It would be grave if we waved, ******* all energy as we try.
A healthy reframe:
to be jealous
is acknowledging
longing within,
when we detach
from that ache,
we become bored, disengaged,
angry and spew out apathy.
Do you find this too? The struggle with jealousy and comparisons is real but this perspective floated into my mind like a coo breeze on a hot day - welcome relief.
3d · 89
My first poem
I wish I could find
the first poem I wrote...

[was it on paper
or deeper, on my heart;
unblemished hope?]

Were my poems
ever melodies?
Or were they just
internal remedies
to the thick,
sick, and cut off
parts in me?

Did I write limericks,
raps, or pick-up tricks?
Were they from my inner voice
or head, just strong?

Did I ever give them air
to breathe,
like a love song?

Is this why
I am now so prolific;
I would prize that poem long,
put it in a vault to deny
constant criticism from the system...

but then let its spirit float free for all eternity.
4d · 63
My voice
Through poetry, I found my voice.
Lost, long ago, shame gave me no choice.
I used to speak in front of hundreds,
thousands even,
and now I don't speak, I listen;
to the ballads;
to the tunes of the heart; the words we don't say.
The beats are the words I wished were okay.
But, by not talking, I had come out of sync
with who I became, needing to re-ink
Become proud even, to reclaim.
My voice sounds different now, softer and older, but the essence is still the same.
4d · 122
Natural beats
Rhythms,
Unashamed sounds,
Playing to the beat of their internal drum,
No fear of questioning,
But unleashing originality as it comes.
5d · 62
Hungover
I feel hungover,
Ugly and fat.
(It might be
that I drank last night),
But it is more likely
That's because of
Gluttony.
I'm not chasing
Anything, anyone, anymore.
There's no anxiety,
Is it depression?!
What is this unknown place?
I know to be present,
Which elevates and calms
These feels,
So I'll sit and watch:
The butterflies and bees,
Release this heavy
state till free,
And embrace these sensations
just now, of me.
Happy New Year! May 2025 be the year you desire it to be. Bless you all.
living foolheartedly,
open and free,
embodying all senses
to make sense of you and me.
With that post, I have hit 300 poems. What a journey! Thanks for reading and commenting; welcoming me into this community has been life-giving.
7d · 51
poetic purge
tortured poet
I sometimes am,
when all thoughts
and motions once clammed,
convulses through me;
vibrations from a soul, man,
within.

when I notice
and lean in,
words spew out;
liberating me
from deep yearning.
Looking back over notes, thoughts, and one-liners that I have left myself and now, with space, and quiet, reflecting before the new year begins, on all my unformed promptings. Enjoy!
is it curious that we spare our souls
through poetry,
but remain a closed book to our "family"?
Poetry has been a healing tool, helping me make sense of what was hidden in me for many years and remains hidden, even though I am still, unaware.

Family can mean any community that we are a part of.
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
I just had a vision;
of all of us @HelloPoetry poets
online around the world, reading and writing poetry.
What do we look like; this precious community?
Are we similar or vastly different?
Tall or small, dark or light, and handsome or indifferent?!

I would love to see, all of us from up high,
flourishing, or anguishing, in our creative drive.
May we collectively motivate one another,
as we strive, applaud as one hovers,
and empathise as one dives,
down, deep low, crash and burns, as we try.
Dec 2024 · 57
Street Markets
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Brews and beats,
Dogs, with owners, walking the streets,
As locals taste the treats.
From farmers,
Butchers and bakers,
Tunes float above the crepe eaters.
Dec 2024 · 107
Safe and sound
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Safe and sound,
As the night spun around.
Safe and sound,
Tucked in bed, love all around.
Safe and sound,
Your little head in the cloud.
Safe and sound,
You can dream and scream aloud.
Safe and sound,
Turn around, cos the boogie man's only in your mind.
You're safe and sound.
I hear this poem as a song, perhaps a lullaby?
Dec 2024 · 55
Horses
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
A wander, canter, gallop or trot,
Your body becomes one with the horse.
As new movements pulse, pain is forgot;
Nature’s beauty relieves pain from the source.

Silence replaces the busyness of life,
The trees sound out their own tune.
Animals show us how to live,
And their movement illuminates how we can thrive.
Dec 2024 · 94
Blessed Barbi
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
What would Barbi wear,
If she went to Church?
Would it be white?
Would it be a modern mini
skirt, or would it be a pantsuit?
Could she be the new high priestess,
or would she be relegated to the sinners
confession box to cast all cares?
Or would she be Hillsong's worship
redeemer, belting out blessed
croons to lull our sins'
anxiety-inducing tunes?
It would be a shimmering
rainbow-sequenced number
flowing with loving kindness.
Maybe Barbi could save the Church,
elevating it to a new perch.
Dec 2024 · 65
teary christmas
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
squeals of delight
float out across the horizon
from children in the houses
nearby.

then, cries of fight
follow after they tear open
treasures, discard disappointment
feebly.

many will gather day and night
full bellies will ensue,
then ambivalent skumber,
mixed tearily.
I wish you all a Merry (and not teary) Christmas.
Dec 2024 · 355
Guilt’s futility
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Must we endure guilt’s futility;
To take stock of our soul’s condition and
To release all unnecessary spoil, to
Be comforted by our Maker’s redeeming love?
Or

Must we endure guilt’s futility;
To take stock of our soul’s condition and
To release all unnecessary spoil?
Or rather, be comforted by our Maker’s redeeming love,
And release guilt’s siren.
Dec 2024 · 54
Wild silky part in us all
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
In each of us,
There is a wild, silky part,
Said the great poet: Mary Oliver,
Can we conspire to connect
With that part in ourselves
If we dare, maybe we’d 
Be more free and spare
Focus on what others see.
Dec 2024 · 59
Bitten
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Mosquitoes are
Pesky, little blood suckers
Aren't the ones meant to be eating tonight?!
They weren't on the invite list,
But alas, they crashed the party
And gave me more love bites
Than I bargained for.
They outnumbered the guests,
And at my behest, I shut the party down.
I heard ‘Pink!’ protest: “Nooo, get the party (re)started!”
So, I did spray, lavishly, a perfume of aeroguard,
but all that did was send shards of poison
in the air and me gasping.
O mosquito, this is no ode to you,
But an antidote to the hot air, mine
and sister summer.
Dec 2024 · 93
coffee and crumbs
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
I spend my morning,
Sipping coffee (no surprise there),
gnawing breakfast (in bed), 
while reading poetry.
It is still.
As I scroll seeds 
Of insight from others' experiences,
Vulnerabilities and creativity.
I could be in Paris or Milan, 
Or in the Kimberleys;
I am transported with each line.
Inspiration poured into mine
soul. I feel I've lived a thousand lives
With every verse believed.
Relieved though, I'm safe at home, 
And the life I'm walking is my own.
How many of my poems feature coffee?! I must write a poetry book to go on my coffee table!
Dec 2024 · 217
beautiful boy
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Awkward and lanky,

not a boy and not yet a man.

Youth, litheness; potential

and yet, still teachable.
Dec 2024 · 53
captured
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
my old photographs hang
on a wooden frame, found
on the lawn of a house
whose man has no name.

do we still print photographs these days,
or just keep them on our phones?
I don't. We take them, edit them,
and make them into something we can clone.

photographs, something I prize;
the whole journey of discovery,
timings: early morn or sunset,
capturing moments of gratulatory,

but I don't take many now,
why? where has my love escaped?
do I now just capture them with my eyes?
have I hung those dreams too, where my lost hopes are draped?
Dec 2024 · 83
My girl
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
When I asked my mum
What she sees when she looks at me,
She gently replied: “My girl!”
Such warmth filled my heart.
With those words,
Such a visceral response received.
Is that what truth and joy feel like?
Love.
Dec 2024 · 335
vacant
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
he was looking at them
searching for answers
but all he could see
was their vacancy;
their eyes hollow and shallow,
he ceased.
his dreams evaporated,
and his spirit deceased.
Dec 2024 · 56
blood stains
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Here I was thinking
I looked all dapper:
With my cream pants,
Cteam top with a woven stitch,
And my cream suit jacket.
My royal blue glasses
Shielding my eyes from the rays of the morning sun,
But a small knick to my pinky finger
Left blood stains…

We all walk around life
With our pains imprinted in our skin,
And sometimes clothing.
As much as we try to hide,
Wash away impurities,
We are left stained,
With life.
Dec 2024 · 44
Fresh
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
I put on Jean Paul Gautier for women this morning,
but the pungent that befell on me was cut grass,
From the house next door,
freshly mowed this morning.
As I waited for my lift to work,
The smell permeated my skin
And my inner being;
A fresh start to my day!
Dec 2024 · 96
Come to the water
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Come,
Dip your toes in,
Delight in the silky cold
That refreshes both
Body and spirit.
Notice how your breath
Gasps, reciprocally stiflingly 
and in liberation.
Come and enjoy
The simplicity.
Dec 2024 · 115
The scent of the garden
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
The scent of the garden,
Left its traces on my hands,
As I danced around pulling weeds
and disposing of them in bands.
Dec 2024 · 92
cry me a river
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
the tears are deep,
deeper than my skin.
they come up from the deep,
fears and lost dreams from within.
the tears that come
from all the lives not taken,
the tears are cries
from all the paths mistaken.
the tears were all
the dreams I've shaken
and nothing comes from
but only depression was awakened.
but then the tears were a release
from all the sorrows brazen.
Dec 2024 · 87
Shade Spotting
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
I found myself, this morning,
Participating in a ‘new’ sport.
Though timeless, reaching back to my youth.
As the days curb closer, the end of the year nears,
So do the shadows stretch out before me.
Chasing shade spots, as I pounded the pavement,
trying to hide from the sun, which was already 
shooting shards of heat and demanding her dominance.
Shade then became God’s grace revealed.
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
life is full of good times,
bad times and everything
that blurs the lines.

my good times vary,
overseas trips, and
my heart doing flips.

but the bad times,
they run the same script;
you aint good enough, never will be, what a trip!

now, the in-between,
seems so dull not to mean
anything, but it's mine.

my life is full
of good times,
bad times and
everything in between.
Dec 2024 · 454
To What End?
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
To survive?
Or thrive?
Is the goal the drive, or a means
To an end?
What end?
What's propelling you forward,
Is it social, political, economical?
Or some other reward?
You are more,
So open your eyes and explore,
Your heart... soul;
Let your spirit soar to that goal,
Higher, seek the ends of the earth for more;
Your core.
Dec 2024 · 181
“Miss Takes”
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
We miss take many steps, opportunities and decisions,
All throughout our day,
Shall we see them as demon disasters? Or hidden
Gems along the way?
Even today, mistakes were made,
And regrouping, re-evaluating and redirecting were essential, I’d say.
If I decide they were wrong and a waste,
I’d be in a spin, and Miss Perfectionist would get a wealthy pay.
But, if I choose, they could instead be wisdom pearls,
In which to collect and treasure where they lay.
Then I could re-take, learn and grow,
And I’d stay, not run away, enjoy and play.
Dec 2024 · 240
Bite-size
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Rome wasn't built in a day;
Life isn't a task to be ’completed’
Puzzles are to be enjoyed,
Complexities marvelled at,
One bite-size at a time.

As I de-program to reprogram,
The big picture held
Open-handed, eyes wide, spirit ready, mouth agape to wield
The mysteries deposited, and
The rich tapestry revealed.
Dec 2024 · 52
You haven’t forgotten
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
As I wake up, the reality sets in.
I want to close my eyes and, hide from the fear within.
Life is a struggle of continually believing,
It’s easy to give up, but in You, I am anchoring!

I have a go, but look to others to affirm.
I am unsure about this world, naivety burns within.
I still have hope, I cry to the Spirit to discern,
I want success, a feeling of capability I yearn.

It is the season of play,
So, this heavy burden with you away!
It’s time to dream and let my inner voice have its say,
It’s the time for discovery, and finding my way.

The path may look well-trodden,
But no one’s walked mine in the modern.
So, don’t give up, pull yourself up from Soddom,
There’s more to life, you haven’t forgotten!
Dec 2024 · 46
Do love
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
A thought just came across my mind...
What am I worrying about?!
I am alive and living,
Yes, there are threats all around,
But I am not under threat.
I am not at war or in war, causing me to sweat,
Like many civilians around the world...
MANY CIVILIANS vulnerably unfurled.
Yet a war wages within,
Daily, hourly, minute by minute.
So stop this combat zone, dim it.
Don't think,
But do. Do love;
Loving-kindness to myself and above.
And others whom I meet
to stop the violence in the street,
And the traumas falling at my feet.
Dec 2024 · 70
an early morning riser
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
an early morning riser
gets the worms.
the saying goes,
or is it more like:
worries she burns?
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
Quenching my thirst,
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,
I gulp (ladylike, of course)
tepid water, slowing my burst
to match the quiet calm,
I catch a glimpse of new birds
playing on the army-cut grass,
short and sharp. Need for replenishing balm!
I smile; a 90's tune comes to mind,
but with a 'fresh' take:
"my mowing [milkshake] brings
all the birds [boys] to the yard..."
La la, la la, la. Grind!
Kelis’ My Milkshake…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AwXKJoKJz4&ab_channel=KelisVEVO
Nov 2024 · 45
The Mosier
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
This morning I mosied,
Literally and figuratively.
A new experience, not,
But today I felt myself as this person:
A mosier!
Shuffling around my house,
Not yet ready to really rise
But hungry and praying for a surprise.
And, I s’pose I found one in this word!
A smiling Mosier am I.
I  don't normally post multiple poems at once but I couldn't resist. please forgive me.
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
****, clang, ****, the cash registers mixed with purchase bags, screaming children, and weighty wallets bleat out an all too familiar song,
We know the tune well,
Heavy debt, unhappy recipients, bloated bellies,
It’s all hard to digest,
Santa or St Nicholas, however, you connect to this festive season, how did we get it so wrong?
But it’s not all so bad when we stop and remember...
Love, connection, and grace; can we look deeper into each other’s faces, and
See the longing, step forward, and open our hearts to embrace the feeling of belonging.
It’s not a weakness, but a necessity, it’s humanity.
But while we compete with the almighty dollar, and with our eyes turned, disgusted by the revered collar,
That was meant to protect but became the perpetrator.
A source of truth, and a way to follow, taken from us,
By *******, power has corrupted and peace has shattered the illusion,
Santa and Nicholas may not have to leave the South Pole anymore, if they do, they may get the new familiar no-talent ‘****.’
As the dates clock over into December, Christmas is nearer. Although consumerism is the king of the West, rather than Jesus, so the decorations and sales come out earlier, I thought this poem's timing seemed to fit. Enjoy?!
Nov 2024 · 380
The Flutist
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
You flutter your flighty, fleeting tunes,
Lift us too, beyond,
To the stars and moon.
Nov 2024 · 157
Where do our prayers go?
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
Where do our prayers go,
When we put breath 
to our hopes and woes?
Do they float up to Heaven,
Or become a bereft flow,
never to be enlightened?

Asking faithfully so,
with lists full of prayers,
going back decades low.
Some answered joyfully,
but many more not, leaving me wondering...
I pray alone and with others. I pray for others as a loved one, a concerned citizen, and a chaplain, and yet I still wonder about the mystery.
Nov 2024 · 201
COFFEE IN MY PORRIDGE
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
So, I was feeling tired this morn,
dizzily walking headlong into a heat storm.
unable to quickly reboot,
so I put five beans in my porridge soup.
the so-called 'magic beans'
didn't have the desired effect [insert scream],
but sent me back to bed,
with my arms wrapped around my head.
Nov 2024 · 64
The controller
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
The controller sits in her tower,
Blasting down commands:
Do this, and do that,
Reverberating are her demands.
How to calm her bellow? I ponder.
How did she get so loud?!
But then, sometimes it's so subliminal,
Her messages that silence the proud.
Silence is deathly, it kills life when left unchecked,
Is it peaceful or suffocating?
Is it healing or is it a tragedy?
Can I change? Or is this how she'll be for the duration?
I have hope in you oh Lord,
That you will calm the controller.
I have trust in you, oh Lord,
But I just have to let out this holler...
Nov 2024 · 115
sound of silence
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
a bee buzzes,
a scream shrills,
a horn honks,
but silence...
silence...
Silence sounds...
it's not the absence of sound
but much more,
more than I expected
in the lows of loss.
It's like waves...
clashes of particles in the air
and tumbling together
in a rush of fusion,
movement.
Silence is not...
lack,
but an abundance,
of more...
more possibilities,
new ways of hearing,
new ways of feeling...
being...
MORE.
I lost my hearing after brain surgery for almost 8 months and then it started to return gradually, taking 5 years to regain 80 per cent capacity.
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
Clone stamps don’t exist,
Heaven's kiss only breathes originals.
But when darkness overwhelms,
It’s hard to embrace lovingly,
The slump of a body,
The shadowy figure,
The shallow intimacy it gives out,
So they are overlooked, not seen, not valued.
Commodity is an exchange price,
And if your invaluable tag has been ripped off,
Who can speak of your true value?
Back to the breath.
Recreation can commence for the adventurous,
New life with wisdom,
How ripe a red wine will that drop be?
Nov 2024 · 53
i couldn't help myself
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
yearnings called me back deep,
pulling me in the opposite direction.
Nov 2024 · 281
Don't rush
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
Haste not,
Let beauty brew
and bubble,
becoming more thorough
through the rubble.
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
What does Snow White see,
When she looks in the mirror?
Does she like what she sees, freely?
Or does she, like me, look
With dismay, and say, 
"Oh, my skin is not as white,
As yesterday, I won't go out and play
Today, I will stay in and away,
Because people will say 'she's not so fair'."
It's not fair that weight of expectation,
and the wait for ultimate perfection.
I don't mean to be political or minimise minorities in this poem. I am sensitive to such racial concerns.
Nov 2024 · 51
Neighbours
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
Does loving your neighbour 
Just mean those next door?
Or those in your church community?
Or those who you adore?
It is the lost;
Homeless,
Hopeless,
Heartless,
Anyone needing more,
Here and across the world;
The global community
Be there for.
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