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Bekah Halle Mar 9
A coming storm

We sense it first in unspoken
atmosphere; the insects hear it's
silent roar.
Then it breaks; the lightning
Followed by gusty wind, dust soars.
Hell loosened by our desires woken?
Or God just reminding us of who's in control?
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy.
Bekah Halle Mar 10
Feast of praise

Hunt me, keep me!
Fleece my nervousness.
Cease my incessant adversaries,
That I might feast on the praise for
YOU.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy.
Bekah Halle Mar 11
He hears

Whenever I am lonely,
I cry out to  you.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy!
Bekah Halle Mar 12
Loved

I am…..




                                                     …LOVED.
Lent is the practice of sacrifice (going without) and remembrance. I am giving up chocolate this year and will try to write a poem in my new “Lent Collection” each day. Enjoy!
Bekah Halle Apr 24
Lest we forget
Those who served us so,
Now, with heavenly angels,
Alive now, they teach us what we sow,
Shall remain forevermore or wasteless fodder.

We shall not forget them so,
Sacrifice, selflessness, valour undertow,
Remembrance of our heroes,
Provokes us to live now, lives of valour; value.
ANZAC Day is a national day of remembrance in Australia and NZ for the men and women who have served and fought for our countries.
Bekah Halle Aug 2024
Holy Spirit
You bring everything back to life.
You are life,
I can hope in you.
Extinguish darkness.
Drown out the lies.
Be the continual thread,
That leads me back to thee.
Bekah Halle Sep 2024
Black and white was my modus operandi;
Clothes, shoes, people, thoughts and religion.
But then my perceptions became distorted in pursuit of perfection;
Trying to avoid anxiety, depression and feelings of inadequacy.
I arranged myself: straight-jacketed, restricted, a life half-lived.
My vision is clearer now, despite being doubled, optical nerves damaged and my peripheral limited;
Seeing things not as black or white, but as grey, and fragmented,
Strangely, my vision has become more enhanced, clearer, freer, and more nuanced.
Grey is not bleak but the platform,
Being present is better than being perfect.
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
There is a
Time to learn
Time to make mistakes
Time to cry
Time to **** up
Time to make bread
Time to read
Time to love
Time to be hurt, and a
Time to hurt –
Time to apologise, and a
Time to forgive. 
Time to respond, rather than react
Time to rethink
Time to drink coffee
Time to let the dawn of new promises wash over me
Time, rebirthed and reclaimed,
The most precious commodity. 
But sometimes there's no time at all.
Oh, how we mistake its insignificance by drowning ourselves in unhealthy times.
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
These are the best days of our lives, or
Are there better days to come?
No more sorrow, no more pain, so much more to gain,
When we trust in the rising Son,
Now, smile. Joy thrives;
Saved lives, new creations, in time with the eternal drum.
Bekah Halle Sep 2024
And the train pulls out
Of the station,
Taking travellers forward
And leaving others behind.

Depending on the time
Of the day,
This act is done
With little to no sound.

Like a silent movie,
Especially the cool of the morn.
Where are we all going;
Where are we all bound?
Bekah Halle Apr 2024
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.
Bekah Halle Jun 9
Roar...
Wild, uninhibited: free.
Living authentically me.
Ready for more?

Moving beyond fight, fleeing and freeze,
To green pastures,
Living beyond disasters,
In peace, free to feel the gentle breeze.

Risk...
Pulses surge,
New thoughts emerge — 
There are no boxes to tick.

Reward...
Works expanded,
Creativity flows,
Freely as the wind blows,
I move, no longer stranded.

Just freedom to be,
Imperfect, in deficit,
Out of control: incomplete.
Opening up to unforeseen possibilities.
This poem was inspired by a prophecy spoken over me.Enjoy
Bekah Halle Apr 2024
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.
There you are little wren,
Drawing my attention in,
To your looping, lonely, little psalm —
Bekah Halle Jun 2024
Live, right now,
You're awake,
And healing.
Everyday.
Live now!

The leaves change colour all the time,
All the time, all the time.
The leaves change, so live now!

You're alive__
And living,
Grab it,
Embrace it,
Relish all things.
Live now!

The leaves change colour all the time,
All the time, all the time.
The leaves change, so live now!

Don't waste time,
Dwelling on the past,
When you weren't perfect;
They were wasted worries,
They added no life,
But subtracted,
From the promises of pure possibilities.
Live now!

The leaves change colour all the time,
All the time, all the time.
The leaves change, so live now!

Live now!
And not in the future,
When you're a mother,
Lover, poet and peaceful.
Live now!
Poetry should  be taught —
But it's better to be tried.

Poetry can be taught;
But it's better to be lived!
Do you agree?
Bekah Halle Oct 2024
Deep darkness, despair.
How could you know, you’re not there?
Empty mind I crave,
But constant chatter takes me to the grave.

Fleeing, running; working, studying, drugs, and stuff,
Distractions from revelation; I am enough.
Progress is prized; the final nail,
We need true clarity; the holy grail.

Opening out and up to the mystery unknown,
Here, flourishing can become our own.
Insights of the true us,
Found when there’s nothing, no sound, no ***...

Embracing loneliness can be the pearl sought,
Moving away from things ought,
Turning to the unknown,
Is where true dreams are sewn.
(c) 2018
Bekah Halle Oct 2024
when I look back, I'll see,
the steps I took to become me.
Bekah Halle Jun 8
Loose curls —
found scattered throughout 
my house
DNA traces —
Declaring existence
Beyond these poems;
Manifestations.
And fleeting interactions
In tight and wide-open 
Spaces.
The King's Birthday long weekend is proving to be a good muse.
Bekah Halle Jan 2020
There was a little girl,
With a little curl,
But when she looked around
Others could be found
Tall ones, short ones,
Sportier and funnier ones.
They looked like they’re having so much fun,
She thought, miserable, she sat glumly.
With head in hands,
She couldn’t see the fanfare and bands:
Celebrating life in all it’s abundance,
Lost, she was, deep in a trance.
But, then, deeper within,
Life spoke, welcoming her in.
You are loved, there’s no-one like you!
Why look to others, when you know it to be true?!
So off she embarked,
On a new adventure: divinely marked
Out just for her, and you...
Hearts held open can be renewed.
Bekah Halle Apr 2024
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.
Bekah Halle Oct 2024
In a world of instants, waiting is foreign —
We’ve succeeded in drawing everyone together to our detriment,
That we’re never alone.
Loneliness is feared, rather than embraced,
Draw nearer to the One our heart is longing —

When we wait, we wonder and wander,
This is the place, our heart we discover.
Anxiously, we busy,
Rather than sit, reflect on the other.

We can transcend this moment in time,
Waiting seems like a block, something avoided, rather than embraced as mine.
In this space, we’re not gender or race,
But a being, alive and fine.

Quietly the unheard voice from within,
Speaks, giving you true meaning.
From here creativity is born;
New ways of seeing draws in.

Curiosity can play; dance, sing, build,
In this posture creativity is filled,
Down falls the scales from our eyes,
In this space anxiety is stilled.

When we wait we are dependent, and free,
Eyes are opened and they really see,
The cracks and flaws, the misgivings and discomfort,
But also the beauty and uniqueness; which is me.
Bekah Halle Jul 1
A Matisse-painted sky
dawning this morning,
So that I could peer,
seeing, Rembrandt-esque
Trees lining the Murray River
crossing the bridge that joins my two towns:
“Twin Cities” Albury and Wodonga.
Banksy’s streetscapes then brought me into reality:
work time —
Who paints that?!
Bekah Halle Sep 2024
Larks of joy sound,
Use the key and unlock thee,
My heart of love resounds
That you would hear my call and see.
Bekah Halle Jan 23
you can learn much
about love from waterlilies:
openness and trust,
seeking energy from the source, the sun,
and reaching deep within
to float above all chaos
swimming below the surface.
Bekah Halle Jul 2024
What am I beyond my industry?
Are we not building another Babel?
We babble on beyond comprehension, big-noting ourselves into oblivion,
in an attempt to reclaim the lost,
Our lost selves...
Could the career path lead us back to ourselves? Beyond ourselves?
To our true selves?
To be selfless, seeing others in loving kindness?
Bekah Halle Jul 2024
Life is not a race,
To be run, but grace.
To be lived and embraced.
Savoured.
Satisfied.
Looked back on,
Cherished.
However long, or short,
However hard, and things re-taught,
Life is to be lived; completely,
Reflectively,
Lovingly.
Bekah Halle May 2024
More complex than Pythagoras;
A bland pallet beckoning discovery, calling intrepid adventurers to see the beauty in the desert.
Causing admiration and repulsion; Frankenstein-esk, forever a mystery.
Days numbered as the hairs on your head; a cold case beset for the archives or a small child screaming “pick me!”?
Bekah Halle Dec 2023
We have many selves;
there’s the real self and the others behind the masque.
The real self gets pushed aside,
When our alter ego doesn’t want to hide.

Out comes the good girl, Rambo, and the billionaire,
Into the darkness hides shame and despair.
There’s also superwoman, the tech-wizz, and social entrepreneurs,
A shy kid dogged by not enough hides his cares,
Cos if they wore their hearts on their sleeves
They’d get beaten up and find no reprieve.

Is this the way we want to live?
Hiding out, these pressures not wanting to give.
They’re our protective armour in ourselves,
Wanting fame and fortune is not where our true future dwells.

We keep on this armour
because it’s become part of us,
We need to release these selves and
know we’re good enough.

It’s not an instant switch, like the internet promises,
But a slow journey of taking off the personas,
And being ok, with who we are,
reconciling what we say.

Let the little voice deep within,
Look to him, who knew no sin.
Cry out, let him in, and be redeemed.
Re-birthed, and on a journey of being restored.
Bekah Halle Dec 2023
Every moment is precious
even the mundane and superfluous.
The torment, grief-stricken and disastrous

all these moments, yes all, are the days of MY life.

New secrets discovered__
more moments cry out to be recovered.
Embracing all, nurturing, to be mothered,
anew, renewed, refreshed and restored.

Press in; delight.
Expand; day and night,
Rejoice; praise despite,
living as new, but in the old.

Maturity presses sweeter wine,
Wisdom pearls are mine,
all these gifts are thine,
I drink this cup, now and forever.
Bekah Halle Jan 2024
Man and men everywhere;
Silver-fox, gay, several-times divorced,
But not one without baggage to be seen.
Pimped up with ****,
Waged weary by work or
Isolated through layered losses,
The modern man: a peculiar specimen.
It seduces the obvious why we turn to women to fill the void;
Upside-down desires? Or love that truly inspires?
Bekah Halle Nov 2024
Remember when you licked the beaters
As your mum baked cakes?
Nostalgia of innocence teeters,
Recaptured on my lips
Today, after making meringue
For a raspberry daquise.
Fabulously, fruity favourite, heart-sang,
Laughing afterwards as I notice a leftover moustache.
Bekah Halle May 2024
I've just got mirrored doors
On my cupboard,
They open my room up far and wide;
Once a shoe cupboard,
My room was small and dingey,
now it's light and open.
Very far from stingy.
But now I can see, more…
All of me,
All that I do,
And say.
I want to take off
Those mirrored doors,
And hide where I can't be
Exposed.
Bekah Halle Dec 2024
I still see you as a little girl,
With your whole life ahead.
But now, you are missing,
Becoming a statistic instead.
At not yet 14, you are out roaming the streets, 
drinking. and. only God knows what drugs you are taking,
You are somehow finding comfort there than at home, beneath your sheets. 
Come home, Coco, we are missing you,
Come home, Coco, these teen ways are not you.
I know when your mum and dad split,
It split you too.
But come home, Coco, with love
And with better choices, your true life can be found.
When did she start disappearing? Was it when her parents first separated? When did she start playing Fortnite online? When she had far too many sick days? When she was put into a diversional therapy group? When?! All these questions fill my head.
Bekah Halle Jan 12
we are all missing pieces
of ourselves, cold,
and missing pieces
of the bigger story, untold.
how do we pay homage to these,
free them to unfold?
and welcome them,
bold.
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.
Bekah Halle Jul 2024
Morning rises with a misty mirage
welcoming the brittle breeze,
Knowing the stiff chills could stifle life
and courage before it receives
The promise of warmth to wear down
The freeze; worries and self-protection, reprieve?
to grow again; try again
Believe.
Bekah Halle Apr 2024
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?!
Bekah Halle Feb 16
Does it really matter?
What I think or do?
Does it really matter?
How carelessly I treat you?

Flick a fly, squash insects, 
Pull roots from a tree.
Take drugs, steal, ****
Does any of this matter to you or me?

Wipe the sleep from our eyes,
Stir our conscience,
Remember why we’re here!
Being present to bring presence.

Today matters.
What we say and do,
Leaves an imprint far greater 
Than virtuality: current reality, thinks is true.
Bekah Halle Jan 2024
There are parts of me I've hidden
from long, long ago —
There are parts I have treasured
and let the world know.
There are parts I have shunned
what I didn't want to show,
And there are parts I've enlarged,
magnified in my dreams - my ego!
Some have danced on the pages of journals,
some I have lived out, so —
Those that don't serve, I've  exiled
to antipathy's limbo.
Intellect will soldier on in the face
that only trauma knows —
But somehow, the playful one
charms and warms me aglow.
Remember, I urge,
there's more in me than I know!



Don't be frightened.
Bekah Halle Sep 2024
Morning dew glistens
Like Tiffany's diamonds,
As the sun rises
Promising a spectacular day;
God’s creation shining and
Brings glory!
#dew #glistens #diamonds
Bekah Halle Sep 2024
i hear
the birds fly
overhead,
their chirps, squeaks
and squawks
inviting me
outside
to join the
morning party.
Bekah Halle May 2024
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!
Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers around the world; unsung heroes!
Bekah Halle Jul 2024
I've got to protect myself
from myself -
sometimes.
get up and move
and groove -
always.
Bekah Halle Apr 30
I've just noticed, 
as I looked up from writing poetry,
A magpie purchased on the high back 
of one of my outdoor setees, 
Staring smack at me 
as I sculpt words.
Fixed, it holds itself still, measured.
Scheming its next swoop;
Taking in my features, 
I was a moving target.
Bekah Halle Jun 21
Oh, Mr Darcy,
You truly are
One of my first and longest loves.
Those dark, brooding eyes,
And sparse words did his tongue speak.
I always did hold you up as
My favourite,
But I have come to find out,
not too handsome to tempt me.
Bekah Halle Aug 2024
Every cut, every scrape,
Every tear and every 
misgivings we have;
Each heartbreak,
Are etched into our bodies.

The first time I had brain surgery,
At 10 months young,
Mum said she had to hold me so tight,
for hours after,
I screamed until I was done.
Fighting the body tremors.
Eventually, I calmed as she sang.

Other scars came, later in life,
heroes of sporting accidents,
But I didn't notice.
Until the AVM surgery in my 30’s
Resulting in a devastating stroke,
After a novel surgeon made a wrong poke,
And a 40-day coma ensued.

Eventually, waking up numb, in shock,
All senses lost;
I couldn't hear,
See, walk or talk.
Shut down; hell.
No tears, murmurs, gargles or squawks,
Just numbness.

Even now, as I write, my body remembers, 
Sending shivers and tremors 
Of that dreadful season.
Eventually, I walked,
Re-learned how to talk,
Accept my pain, and joy, as I regained 
Mobility, hearing and eyesight,
But the grief is still stored in my heart.

Through poetry, I've tried,
To make sense of and write
Every grain and offence,
To help me build in strength.

I pay homage.
To you, my body,
Tested and true,
Though no beauty queen,
You are a machine,
That doesn't give up,
But writes a new score;
One of the treasures I adore
When I open my eyes and see
The wonders in this world.
Bekah Halle May 2024
My curls, full and voluminous, I treasure
Each one tells a story.
People flock to touch,
Grasping them like gold,
They ask: “How did you get them such?”
“Are they natural?” Some scold,
In a world full of fakes, that hits like a punch.
“Yes!” I reply with pride,
My curls are my mane, grabbing them, I scrunch,
Jealousy can slide!
My curls are my shield;
They mask my doubt, comparisons
Much profit they yield!
You can tell a lot from my curls:
When I am tired and lazy,
When I treat them like 'my girls,'
When I'm sassy and crazy.
When they’re not washed for weeks,
My mental health radar
Send me obvious tweaks -
“Don’t disconnect, come back, savour,
Reconnect with yourself and the world,”
My curls are my most significant feature;
My crown of glory.
Bekah Halle Jan 21
On my walls hang two pieces of art;
large canvases boldly splashed
with colour, stroke upon stroke form vivid arcs.

I wish I had kept my father's paintbrushes,
they were tools of masterpieces.
From them, my strokes could have made faces flush
and inspired songs and poetry; love?

*
But, perhaps ‘twas a blessing to create with unique expression and freedom.
Dad died in January a couple of years ago. We had a fickle relationship driven by his narcissistic personality and childhood wounds. Sad.
Bekah Halle May 7
Today I am wearing
One of my father's neckties.
I know it might be a red herring
But it reminds me of him, so I look past all those lies.

It is a pink one,
With silver diamonds scattered.
I think it's rather fashionable
So, caring about others’ hasn't mattered.

I don it with a navy jacket
Just like the ‘ol days: suit & tie.
I’m not here to make a racket
About it, but just to state a point, I cry!

I am a femme fatale
Not a butch,
Rose-gold sneakers attire
Or coloured-heels as such.

It always gets a comment,
Sometimes a whistle or two.
I never thought I was attractive
But these feels, while I’m wearing them, surely do ensue.
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