Another birthday.
In this terrifying moment of self reflection
let me lose myself in gratitude
for the love of those present and past
who radiate kindness towards me.
As the ribbon of tarmac stretches out
into the distance
of my rear view mirror,
let me not brood
but embrace hope
for the hairpin corners yet to come
as I climb the mountain
of my own experiences
to a collective unknown peak.
As I age let me discover
that playful creativity of mind,
find wonder in this world
and the great gift of maturing love.

Two eyes and yet unable to see.
Two ears and  yet unable to listen.
Admitting mistakes is never easy.
Contrition is not the human condition.
To see the world as it is takes great thought,
determination,  patience and passion.
Learning through defeat in our battles fought,
etches deep knowledge in our life’s mission.

We wake.
We worry
what the day will bring
If a second coffee is too much a thing
If the milk is off, if the washing is done
Can we do the ironing before the clock strikes one?

Will the dust that lurks in those little nooks
Under lampshades lips and on top shelve books
Accumulate to cause our death rattle cough
So we’re undiscovered ‘til the stench turns rough?

Has the dog been walked, has the cat been fed?
Has he tidied his room and made his bed?
Can I afford this and that? Have I remembered to shave?
Will I retire with no savings to misbehave?

Was the work I did yesterday correct?
Will it cause huge problems to resurrect?
And lead many fingers to point at me
Will I be sacked for everyone to see?

Is my income sufficient, have I over spent?
Will I have enough to pay my rent?
Do I rail at colleagues and think they conspire
To burn my career on a funeral pyre

At night when my mind should be shut down
These thoughts of woe go round and round
Petty nonsense obsessions are my default
I wish I could stop them, tell them to halt

But the human condition is like this
A constant search for tranquil bliss
Beyond our reach, an impossible mission
For stress and sorrow are the human condition.

A boss forwards an e-mail
a one word question:
“Thoughts?”
Oh sweet genius minimalist leadership!
Can it ever substance yield?

No.
Vacuous answers fill the net.
Nothing of real thought in this haul.
Just regurgitated ideas in different clothes
But no one chooses to notice.
They believe they have touched
the face of innovative greatness,
the holy grail that is ‘disruption’.

Self-congratulation, back-slaps
high-fives all round.
Yet if all yearn to be disruptive,
no one really is
except the person standing still
saying nothing, not disturbing,
just observing.
Listening and thinking.
In silence.

Businesses inwardly focussed
drown in self-inflicted noise.
In meetings talk is everything.
The person who just listens?
A penalised non-contributor.

Noise is self-aggrandising.
Attention-grabbing.
The Big Me.
The talker spouts hyperbole
"There's no I in TEAM!"
Re-arranging the letters,
the listener smiles.
"Look AT ME",
the talker's real words.

The listener,
the true disrupter at work.
Ears open, mind observing, mouth shut.
Ignoring the smorgasbord
of finger-pointing and lime-light hunting
going on around her.
Intently focussed
on what needs to be done.
Doing it.

Noise shouts self-importance.
Silence finds wonder in insignificance.
Noise stays shallow on the shoreline.
Silence dives deep into the unbounded ocean of thought
and finds a beautiful stream of creativity,
the path to profound understanding.

No limits exist in silence's depths
just an awesome mind-expanding flow
where thoughts are wondrous fluidity.
Synapses spark and draw connections.
New ideas explode with energy.
A crystal level of consciousness
blocks out all in diamond clarity.

When that level is reached,
you are at ease in your world.
your breathing smooths.
Life is pure synchronicity
and the limits of humanity expand.
All it takes
is a moment’s silence.

We’re not looking for someone unique.
We want someone who does not limelight seek.
Who stands safely hidden inside the crowd.
Who is not too keen, diligent or proud
to think inside the box.
Push the envelope? Certainly not!
A person comfortable in their comfort zone
who doesn’t waste time trying new skills to hone.
We want no go-getters!
Be gone, you self-starters!
You must  at all times self-prohibit
from going beyond your own limits.
Your boundaries you must never stretch.
Only do your best to rest and not stress.
Thrive on the predictability of monotony.
Resile from the challenge of opportunity.
A no-can-do attitude is a must
if you are to be someone we can trust.
As a team player you will go far
only if you’re first one at the bar.
Your one ambition must be to strive
to work only from nine until five.
And of course we’ll pay you like a CEO,
with a gold parachute when it’s time for you to go.
Now wouldn’t the world be perfectly sound
if only there were job adverts like this around!

Dive high! Dive low!
Throwing off powdered eggshell fragments as you go
flying through the air, your smile
so broad, that cackling chuckle, your smoothing style.
You sparkle above the brilliant blue
then dip once more to start your darting turn anew.
So cute!
So smart!
Playfulness fills the heart
Brim full with a cheerful lightness
You arc like a swallow and swoon into the brightness
of your glittering foil ocean
pure happiness your motion
Nature’s gift
You uplift
A cure
So pure
Youth and age as one unite
Watching you all day and night
As you bring a joy so right
so natural, so pink and so true…….
Goodbye, my friends, we’ll miss
you.

The first month is melancholic reluctance
uncertain expectancy, all hope foreboding.
A blanket grey cumulus waiting to reveal
Heaven’s offerings in this new year.

We mourn the passing of family and feasting
and torture ourselves in covenanted new rituals,
sacrificing happiness for a different pathway
in search of fresh purity, we flee past sins.

Why always self-loathing when January dawns?
Why this violent self-revolution?
Why the craving for renewal in the wizardry
of quick-fix cures for our diseased past?

What of gratitude, kindness and continuity?
What of love and wisdom inherited from our histories
that ripple forward in that comforting echo
of friends and family who remain within us?

The constancy of garnet is January’s true transition.
The stubborn goat sure-footed on the mountain-side,
unmoving unbending despite storms that unsettle
as another year deepens the roots of our knowledge.

In God Janus’s beginning, we celebrate things past
that we clasp and hold aloft in triumph.
Our stalwart anchor grips strong, made ready
by challenges vanquished in bygone years.

To be buffeted but stalwart is the true new hope.
Another circle on the trunk ringing our heart of oak,
wisdom sprouts green sprigs in winter’s depths
to breathe new life into a maturing love.

Clowns
abound
around
the town,
wearing crowns,
gowns
and frowns,
as sounds
drown and
pound
up and down
the brown
mound.
Oh the renown
astounds
the nouns
of those clowns.

This morning’s hailstorm of queries
clatters my tin roof skull.
Its brain-penetrating din,
like a cold-ache jack-hammer,
rings its throbbing presence.

Come afternoon,
the wind blusters total chaos,  
billowing my patience so taut,
the pegs strain the guy ropes,
tugging at the grip
of the quaking ground beneath.

By day’s end all energy is spent.
I stare broken. A daze. Nothing.
Except you at my side.
Everything.
And I am pieced back together
for tomorrow.

This grey despairing cloud of trouble
Is a day from being reduced to rubble
In the storm of tomorrow’s energetic bubble

You tap your watch in those holes of time
The glint in your eye taunting,
‘Oh Life, so brutally rationed.
Such a shame. Tick tock!’
Sands pour down an unforgiving hush.
You beast.
How I yearn to escape you.
How your coiled fingers tighten their grasp
As you throw back your head
And cackle at the futility
Of my struggle.
For I am you
And we are one
Forever my worst enemy.

I rose this morning, yet failed to wake.
I wandered directionless, feeling fake.
Mind pregnant with thoughts, yet past thinking.
Soul vacant and turgid, long past caring.
Too much to address, yet no inclination
I yearn for your support, strength and motivation.
Slow, the cloud lifts, as if drawn by the heavens
Lo, I am made ready to take up my burden

Like a tree’s tangled branches is the tale of one’s life
All gnarled, bent and twisted
weather-worn by spent strife.
Blustered by storms which test our deep roots
And pull hard at our souls in bitterest dispute.
Yet when moments of sunlight shimmer on our leaves
We stretch for the heavens and thank God for reprieve