Does creativity require an audience?
Or is it just ok to be?
I ask this to the Master for concordance,
Because I want to learn how to see.
Your intention behind creating us,
And how You made me?
I feel You’re ok with my questions, thus
I’ll keep asking till the curiosities flee.
Please help me channel this inner drive,
For answers, peace and intimacy.   
How can we harness,
And share Your revelations purposely?
For lives saved, inflictions healed,
And eyes fixed Heavenly.

If my thoughts can lead
To depression,
And from our thoughts, we speak,
I revolt against my thoughts;
I have become my joy!
My heart fills, and
I am full of love,
My posture lifts,
I am full of hope,
My movement quickens,
I see opportunities, and
I will become my joy.
I am joy!

I was out foraging in the woods today,
This morning, when it was cooly,
dark, and quiet, only the birds had a say —

I saw the sun force the darkness to hide,
Allowing me to see;
Strewn branches, twigs and leaves astride.

Dead waste or my fire’s delight?!
I came home successfully,
Joyfully and proudly with the efforts of my might.

Mother;
Mothering? Smothering?
do we need to re-mother?
Love of another?
Enduring legacy of
Loss and despair,
Acceptance, love and joy.
Reconciliation.
Mother;
You help us to recover,
Hope for more to come,
And life to enjoy!

Open your eyes, and
Come out from the darkness. 
12 years have passed,
I’ve forgotten you from long ago.
I am sorry for dismissing you, 
Now, I want to put you on show.
12 years, since the coma,
Wake up, and
Live.
Now. Go,
Breathe.
You can do it,
The journey is not over,
It's only begun.
Each new day is a new life,
You can now sleep, knowing there’s more to come.

Grief is like being drunk...

Hungover with grief; the heavy cloak of love
Cutting you off from reality,
Cocooning you, all the while changing you.
Surrendering the struggle, to survive
Paradoxically helps you thrive.

Are we all under a spell?
One spell or another?
Spell of another?
Spell of money?
Spell of fame or
Milk and honey?
Spell of drugs, alcohol,
Shame?
**** or the drudgery
of the day-to-day?
Light spells? Dark spells?
Spells that sell
A different life.
But we only have one life,
This one, right here, right now.
Live it!

You make all things new!
What was lost, damaged, and of no value,
can be transformed.
Little by little,
Breath by breath,
Choice by choice.
Drop by drop,
fills a pond.
You are faithful;
My transformer.

Can I wash my thoughts clean?
Can I  turn them inside out?
Can I transform my thoughts to glean?
Can they be renewed? I pout.

Is that Your work Holy Spirit?
Washing my thoughts? Or am I too mean?
Try other ways, primp and preen?
Am I doomed until I’ve made them seen?

I feel like a child throwing a tantrum,
But an adult, I want to be.
I want to grow like an oak in the garden,
that others come to see. 

Will it always be a huff and puff?
Hard work all the way?
Or will there be something I use my gruff,
And transform it into play?

Even now as I put pen to paper,
free my thoughts out to breathe,
The intensity turns into a caper,
And I allow myself a reprieve.

Enjoy this season of transformation,
It will always be your bread.
I am growing in emancipation,
And it will be this way till I’m dead.

But even then, I gain new life,
With You free from the grave.
For death, with you, has no strife,
And believing that makes me brave.

So, I will lift my head again,
And once again, I will breathe in,
I will let my eyes search along the plain,
And go, a smile beaming from within.

Wanted to be seen;
Valued.
No matter what.
Pleased people to the point;
Unvalued.
Invaluable learning.

Sparkle, little diamond,
Wipe the dust off and
Feel your infinite potential within.
Dormancy may have been your norm,
But no more!
Shine.

My body holds tight,
Like a clenched fist.
Unbreakable, it seems,
Solid footing admist?
But inflexible and stuck; fixed.
Fluidity and freedom it craves,
Screaming: "Release me!"
Like a teenage dancer, out at an all-night rave.
So I shake in an attempt to break,
The perception of danger,
And look to the horizon,
For a time without anger.
I guess I can laugh?!
That I’ve spent so much time,
In the void,
Stuck,
****!
But at least I’ve got rhyme.
To express these feelings,
And give my voice value,
To free the new me,
And to live life afresh and see.
Truly see!

We just gathered,
out in the sun
coffee, play equipment, and water fun,
mothers, daughters, father and sons,
monkey bars were spied,
my inner child went wild
as I threw my legs up, up and over,
swinging and hanging smiles more than mild.
Why don't we do that,
more often than not?!

I had become my grief, lost,
How I let myself, I did not know.
I thought I was on track,
That’s until I look back and find an unknown path.

I know I try to control,
To make sense of what does not.
But every time, You are there.
You have my back and You are everywhere.
This loop is all too familiar.
It’s time to change, but how?

You give me glimpses,
And I trust for a moment.
I am happy, then forget.
But I want to grow from this place.
I want to stand confidently, trusting Your grace.

You are with me.
You’re all around.
I am not lost,
But lovingly found.

How sweet are Your lips that speak life;
Hope sparkles like rubies and gold.

I am fury, and
I rage.
I jump up and down,
Attempting to disengage.
From the idols,
The expectations,
And internal damage,
The oppression.
I am scorn, and
I lash out,
I scream:
Those ‘******* idols’ I shout.

Word wranglers wound up together,
in an Exchange at a Hotel.
One said this, others said that...
And many a flute of fizz gulped and guzzled while sat
in between giggles and gazes, as
The past was pulled, kicking and screaming, into the present.
Was it a gift?
Were past pains put to peace?
Or did it awaken promises long forgotten,
Once under the authority of the surgeons' scalpel?

Shakespeare wrote, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”
Solomon, in Proverbs, posed that the power
of life and death is in the tongue;
Words create worlds, said I to thousands of teenagers over the years,
Whether written or spoken words liberate or load us up.
This power is with us every minute of every day in every hour.
Will I write new words with my wieldy weapon whence today?
Will wild blossoms bloom in your heart or
Weeds wither the hope in your womb?

Death always steals the show,
But it is joy that jump-starts it.
Entering within, re-wiring love,
Breathing new life, with new words;
Remembering promises
Of a powerful and plentiful future;
Declaring death dead and life to be lived!

I'm one of those,
There are many of us now,
The daughter of a narcissist, exposed.
It should be his cover that's blown,
But I guess now it’s my own,
So I can see the cost, all the talent,
confidence and opportunities lost,
Because of small men,
Cowering.

Can't beat a great coffee;
delights all the senses with rich,
silky milk, all frothy.

I hear you, little girl,
You don’t need to hide.

I hear you, little girl,
You don’t need to perform.

I hear you, little girl,
You are now growing into a woman.

I hear you, little girl,
And cry for the things that were stolen.

I cry for you little girl,
You can just be.

I cry for you little girl,
You are brave with much to offer.

I smile for you, little girl,
And am so proud of who you’ve become.

I heal for you, little girl,
And let you rest for a while.

Being
Real
And
Valuing
Everything about yourself!

I cannot be everything to everyone!
I do not want to be everything to everyone!
I am not going to be everything to everyone,
because in the end, I will be nothing to everyone, and
I won't be me.

Focusing just on intelligence,
Denies the complete picture;
Overthinking small matters,
Distracts your mind;
Omitting your strength from the full experience,
Disconnects your heart from your soul;
Losing yourself in others,
Deadens your true potential;
Instinctively living is only possible when you
Don’t hide from your truth.
Shame is the slime that obscures your view,
Demolishing the almighty power within.
Hiding was a survival mechanism, but now,
Disentangling from these faulty patterns will bring you true life.

Desolate.
Dry, like an arid desert;
Limited life contact,
Hopeless.

Crying was a mirage,
Only others seemed to hold the key;
That could unlock,
The healing springs from within.

But drip by drip,
Inner acceptance they bring;
More freedom within,
Who I am is the best place to begin.

My tears are the permission,
To grieve this long journey;
From before my birth,
The pain of a broken world that you’ve allowed me to live in.

Be here,
With these tears.
Don’t leap ahead,
And miss the healing in these cool springs.

When the tears fall,
They release life;
Permission to be,
Freedom to embrace.

New life,
But it first took courage,
To shed that first tear;
You faced the fear,
That held you captive,
But now you are free to fly.

On the wings of a new horizon;
To walk on dewy grass,
With the sun rising, new promises.
Try again, learn and grow stronger,
In your way and time.

I want to climb the heights,
And touch your face.
I want to swim in the depths,
And enjoy your embrace.
I want your love,
To drive out fear.
I want to dance freely,
And draw you nearer.

Just like the root system
Deep underground,
We too are wired,
For love. Declare goodness,
Let hope in your heart sound!

Life is in the here and now, the present,
Death is in the past and future; regret and needs to be met.
But talking about dying, pain, angst, the last breath brings life;
Mysterious peace settles, an absence of strife.

We may think we’re alone in death,
But we all go through it, crossing that precipice.
Something we all have in common,
Not just for one but for everyone.

Sharing stories becomes living memories,
Remembered in death, then as homilies.
Celebrating life: a life well lived,
Then, death is seen as not taken but given.

The grief is deep,
It wells and swells
Deep inside.
I now want to draw near
The deep, and
Peer down inside,
See the waves crashing,
See the pretty foam
From the chaos,
Deep inside.
When I come close,
It’s refreshing,
Calming,
Mesmerising.
Lulling me into a deep sleep.
Transforming me from the inside out,
So that Your new creation
May come forth.
Be present.
Even in the cold,
Even in the chaos,
Even in the unknown, and
Even in the loneliness.
Even. Deeper.

Add voice to my poetry,
Don’t fear how you sound.
Feel the rhythm of my soul,
Open your mouth and shout it aloud.
It might start quiet,
Or even as a small squeak?
You’ve hushed it for too long,
Pull your hands back, so you can finally speak.

Your words might fall on deaf ears,
But don’t be discouraged;
The beat can’t be silenced,
Trust, try, and let yourself be encouraged.
Speak the words you’ve longed to say,
Just like a new language,
It might take a while to master,
But don’t give up, grow in courage.

Learn from others,
Be ok to fail.
T’is a season of new things,
And this path will turn into a trail.
Feel the beckoning, His yearning, and His delight,
Be willing, open your heart.
Play, see, taste, and I say again, trust.
Don’t rush or mourn, it’s just the start!

Twitches, goose pimples (bumps),
shivers and hot and cold flushes,
Body, you are speaking to me.
I hear you.
I notice you.
I encourage you to talk;
Tell your story.
Discharge all your anxiety,
Release all your rage,
Unfreeze all your fear,
With me, you are free,
My container is cosmic now,
I have matured, I have calmed,
I am listening.
I am trusting.
You can be free to feel,
So share.
I welcome you.

Off the top of my head,
here are the body idioms that I can recall;
we could go eye for an eye,
or tooth for a tooth over them,
and we'd be neck and neck with all the phrases,
but we'd still fall short recalling them all, I'm sure.

We'd probably get bored,
because it's a tall order.
If it turns into a fight,
you may get sick to the stomach or
fall head over heels about it
and then you'd be really in over your head.

It might be a total, 'no-brainer!'
and I may continue for a little longer to pick your brains,
but you will start pulling your hair out, I'm sure.
I would then suggest a drink to let your hair down,
where you could oblige or tear your hair out in frustration.
We may even split hairs over the peculiarities of every phrase.

Perhaps you'll raise an eyebrow over some,
especially if you wear jeans and a T-shirt for a dinner party,
that will raise eyebrows!
If you're not nosy, then you'll move on,
and I will seal my lips about the subject.

You could then pay lip service to coax me back and sink your teeth into a new round.
But by that stage, all the sayings will be on the tip of my tongue and
I'll just have to face the fact that
there'll always be two-faced people in the world,
no matter how kind you are to include them in this game.

Taking a break,
From seeking the weak,
In me and embracing the
Beauty in my brokenness.
In this,
Let me walk upon the waters,
Erasing my past and
Hoping for a future promised only in dreams.

Stillness is where it all begins,
In quietness and rest, you will gain life again.
In release and trust is where it continues.
In standing, with arms wide open,
In outstretching hands,
In exhaling,
In breathing,
In being,
In.
Be.

sometimes,
there are those days
when things just flow.
You can either,
run indoors,
or get out your gumboots,
and jump in the puddles.

sometimes,
the days are dry.
your lips are parched,
and creativity eludes you.
You can despair,
turn up the volume of self-loathing,
or embrace the feels,
for some other experience.

sometimes,
there are days when you're juggling,
the myriad of experiences,
and it clicks...
they're all moments,
to be savoured.

Grey skies loom,
Threatening oncoming turmoil.
Or, a promise of loosening
Fixed ways?

She passes faster than we can grasp,
We try to capture her, firm in our clasp.
But she runs right through us,
Savouring, she becomes our mistress,
She rules indiscriminately,
Sometimes, not always, distressingly.

Oh,
Mistress Time, you're full of beauty,
Admired, best in the present, free and fruity.
If we don't, we'll mourn,
And if only despaired, she will scorn.
But now, she comes alive,
Invigorated, we thrive.

Yes,
Face-to-face, she tells tales,
Of the dreams, places we’ll sail.
Future fantasies, we indulge,
"Temptress Time", let us divulge,
Our secrets,
Worn down, we slip; more regrets.

Words come and go,
So quickly,
I can’t catch them all!
They dance across my mind,
And then, when I want to recall them,
****, they’re gone!

Over the years, I’d built myself up;
Propped with awards, opportunities, degrees, and jobs atop of my growing ego: self-reliant, self-determined
And that’s all well and good. Most of us live like this,
Some say we should.

But when disaster happens, as it often does,
We may splutter and curse, or we may choose,
to lean in, to the painful transfiguration that undoes you loose,
That leaves you fragile, undifferentiated and barely there.
But it also brings unexpected delights:
Your frights addressed, and your faith ascends new heights,
And you are rebuilt with new might,

You stand again, but this time propped up with strength unseen.
As I now stand, I know I stand alone, but with a community within,
Solid more, deeper resources help me lift my chin,
Newer insights that remind me that I’m akin,
So, I stand firm, watch and learn.

The journey continues: new horizons await.

Grief is like a sledgehammer,
Smashing through life indiscriminately.
The widow tries to hide her wound,
Like a mother cuddling her cub;
Instinctively, protectingly and lovingly.
But their darkness swallows the light,
And they fall deeper into the abyss.
Swollen eyes can only open with tenderness,
And a touch from a heavenly hand extended.
Warmth infuses the dead flesh,
Loneliness liquifies with love.
Intimacy is a potent life force,
That which cannot be known by the proud,
But only the downtrodden and deeply slumped,
Lacking life, tossed aside because their used date’s up,
And the technology has been upgraded to 17.20,
Though new life comes, silence is comforted by a tender embrace,
Life, re-formed, emerges,
And takes on another shape; begging to be discovered.
Silence can then be comforting and enlarging, only if you dare to sit and listen.

Purify us!
So that we burn,
with your glory.
We are fragile selves,
Our egos are weak, so
That we crave our glory.
We hunger, we thirst
For the things of this world,
Purify us!
Burn the distorted lenses,
So that we can truly see,
You!

Waiting is complex.
On the surface, it looks like nothing;
A waste.
It’s easy to get distracted,
Thinking of the things one should do.
But when you start to move, and
The routes lead to dead ends...
Wasted.
Cold.
Desolate.
Lonely.
But, then light pierces through,
And there is movement.

I
Try,
Over and over
Again.
I
Try,
Over and over
And over
Again.
I
Try.
I will
Not
Stop.

Where shall we go?
To get our fix?
To get our relief?
Peace?!

To the fiz?
To the *****,
To the fax,
Pals,

Or to our faith?

Wherever 'it' is, is our saviour.
The gods of this world,
Masquerading as possible solutions,

But leaving everlasting aches,
Not true peace --
Leaving us, searching, in
Purgatory?

Connectivity drives us, compels us forward,
Technology, used unwisely, is the dark king of this age; that proclaims hope in wires connected underground and
Invisible signals shoot through the air, trying to share signs that we care, but
Ultimately, it severs us from reality and each other over there: digital Babylon.
Heads down, thoughts inward,
We don’t see the lost on the street,
We don’t see the lady lying in pain, covered in shame, trying to re-cover herself and start over again,
But, effortlessly, we switch off from that kid searching our eyes that he matters,
When we keep looking at ourselves, our next selfie: selfie addicts!
If we don’t post our newest vain attempt to connect, we turn to other drugs to numb the pain,
That our brain is craving to solve;
The receptivity issue.
So we need to switch off to switch on again to our indelible source of
Connection with real life within and with others out,
Who says spirituality doesn’t matter: it’s not for this day and age,
It divides and fuels us with rage,
But it does!
It is,
And it is to come.
Connection to the forever dimension, the reason for the ascension to
Reconnect us back to the truth again.

How sad? that my initial thought,
When I saw a man in church,
Lead youth out, was: how creepy!
I’m sure he is lovely, but even his looks
Made me lurch,
within myself, and yell: it’s not safe!
This distorted world robs innocence,
Smashes precious platforms and
Hijacks joy.
How do we restore this;
Elevate hope again?
All I have are questions, no answers.
How can we better love ourselves and one another?
How can we extend compassion?
It starts with ourselves!

I come home a foreigner.
The sun is warm and welcoming,
But the environment has changed.
Curiosity is beconning,
But with gentle eyes.

I come home changed.
Last time I was more timid,
This time, a little stronger.
Last time I thought my weaknesses were insipid,
This time, they are part of me.

I come home curious,
As to what it might be, I ponder.
The family dynamics.
The opportunities that I may squander,
In fear of becoming my truest self.

I come home braver.
Even though on the outside I may be frailer,
Even though.
I might not be, but opportunities I can tailor,
So, it is with courage I move forward.

Have a goal, they taught,
So, I set out but faced roadblocks.
Keep trying, they said,
So, I didn’t give in and embraced the setbacks.
Sometimes, stalling, enduring the detour,
Brought me more life than just paychecks.

We have privilege and power;
How do we use it in this hour?
For money and fame,
To produce more of the same? Or
In humility seek,
Platforms for those who cannot speak?

Judgment, misunderstandings, self-protection,
all weapons of mass destruction:
wounding others and ourselves,
with each thought and resulting action.

Lady Macbeth knew this,
why did we not heed her justice?
Warning bells clanging,
freeing us to step onto a new precipice?

There's blood on my hands,
every time I don't trust and understand,
but think I know it all,
and make my many, many demands.

Perfectionism has been my cleansing balm,
but, in the end, it's just caused more harm,
relearning is my matrix,
continuously transforming and becoming calm.

Shakespeare pondered names,
We are all given names at our birth;
Some are well-placed, others unknown and ill-fitted.
We spend our teenage years trying on new names, seeing if they fit, throwing them away when they don’t.
Movie stars and musicians shorten their names; Madonna, Oprah, Prince, Beyonce and Drey.
YouTube celebrities create their fame,
Based on their ordinary life.
We, who watch on, add to the myriad of followers,
Playing into their game, adoring their name.
But have we pondered the power of names, for our good?
When we speak, are we breathing life,
Or simply just air?
How can we grasp the life in words?
How can we live out from our true names?