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?!

Pen on paper is like breath in my lungs.
It is my write to live;
Describing, birthing, embracing.
Permission to give.

But the pen used ineptly,
Causes death.
Like throwing my pearls to swine,
Snuffs breath.

See the world distinctly?
Pearls?
A kaleidoscope of memories?
Or lucidly look differently?
A beggar, or free from the constraints of Western reality?
New eyes take in all perspectives: perceptions,
Compelling new experiences: horizons.
Releasing shame; distorted distractions.
Embracing imperfections, peccadillos,
Layers of realities,
Depths, and
Rationalities.
Diversely.
Maturely.

Little girl, big brimmed hat,
alone, with suitcases,
traveling to boarding school she sat.
Wanting to be embraced by loving arms,
reassuring tones, peaceful pungent breaths, she calms,
but, the war loomed outside,
and onwards she tried.
The constant Chameleon: hairdresser, interiors, reporter and healer,
now, the season of inner healing to transform into a counsellor.
But, it’s the true counsel that she heeds,
to transform from the wounds that bleed.
May she hear from You, the One who truly heals.
May You lovingly embrace and hold all she feels.
May the little girl grow up into the woman You imagined,
And may she bloom into a lush garden with seeds You've planted.

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.

To know one's heart is to unlock yourself from the darkness of the mind; freeing the soul to live Its true self.

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

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.

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?

The time taken was not what I dreamed
of, craggy paths, dead ends, or so it seemed.
But now, with back a turn, I see a glimmer,
of the bigger picture, that calls me nearer.
With eyes wide open, listening ears;
a heart full and my spirit clear,
peace and acceptance: my purified pearl.

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!

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.

This is life!
Living right now, every win, mistake,
Not heaven.
Don't be afraid, there's give AND take.
You don't have to be perfect!

This is life!
Every high and every ******,
******* low.
Don't be afraid, embrace the gritty;
Experiences that forge your character.

This is life!
The acclaim, blame, shame and every moment, just the same,
Can be refrained and reclaimed
Don't be afraid of happiness
And joy, life's not perfect!

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.