Poems about big life events and small daily experiences. Even about rock climbing.

There is still beauty  |   When the shock wears off  |   To a Ring  |   Fabulous Friction  |   Morning Musings  |   Cat Meditation  |   We set out a long time ago  |   The last picture

There is still beauty (November 2016)  Listen to the song on soundcloud

Friends, do not forget: there is still beauty
When the darkness comes and shadows fall,
Music, Art, and nature, gentle comforts
When despair is deep and hope is small.

Friends, do not forget: there is still laughter
When we've finished choking down our tears,
When the world seems full of desolation
And we grit our teeth and face our fears.

Friends, do not forget: they have not taken
Kindness, love and friendship from our hearts.
If we can resist the hate and anger,
Maybe we can be where healing starts.

We will rise again tomorrow morning,
Sunshine follows even darkest night.
Think of this when you feel close to breaking
As we walk the long road to the light.

When the shock wears off

The only thing to do is carry on
And be a light that shines bright in the dark,
Live love surrounded by a sea of hate,
Give hope as antidote to crippling fear.
Write poems, sing a song, make art, join hands
With sisters in a circle. Do not fall
In darkness and despair: this too shall pass,
And we will stand and raise our voice again
And reason will prevail some better day.

November 8, 2016

To a Ring

In you I trust. You symbolize a promise.
If self-reliance fails and footholds crumble
You'll keep us safe from harm. You will protect us
If handholds break, if we lose grip, or stumble.

With you in reach I dare release the tension.
Your solid metal roundness will inspire
New confidence and faith. I can exhale now
The bated breath and, with relief, climb higher.

Fabulous friction,
Your magic transforms
The steep rock into footholds.
In delicate balance
We dance on invisible
Stairs to the summit.

Morning musings

As I prepare breakfast for my son
Who, at seventeen, is perfectly capable of fixing his own food,
I think of my dad.
Every morning at six o'clock,
He would wake me up and ask for my breakfast choice.
The two options were oatmeal and rusk -
Small hard crackers like melba toast -
Served in a soup plate with hot milk
And some sugar and raisins.
The question "Oat or rusk?" was our morning ritual.
Throughout high school,
Dad made breakfast for me
Who, at seventeen, was perfectly capable of fixing her own food.
I never thought much about it
Until now, when I am doing this small act of love
For my own child.

Cat Meditation

This afternoon
I sat with the cat
On the patio.
She is injured, but wants to be outside,
So somebody has to sit with her
That she does not wander off
And get in trouble because she is lame.

She is happy
To hear the sounds,
Smell the smells,
And let the sun warm her fur,
And maybe she thinks what cats are thinking
When they are content.

So I sat with the cat
All afternoon
In peace and silence,
Like I had not sat for a long time,
Hearing, smelling, thinking,
And letting the sun warm my skin.

I thank the cat for these hours
Of contemplation
And contentment.

We set out a long time ago.
Years stretched before us, like a vast land,
With pathways and hills to explore
We journeyed. But much too soon
We are nearing the shore of the sea
And my heart is heavy.
For you will embark on a ship
That will carry you to a country
I cannot see in my dreams.
Sure footed, you will step aboard
And maybe glance backwards once.
I shall remain on the shore,
Sand flowing through my empty hands.

The last picture

The house sighs.
It has heard it before:
how the stairs creak
under halting steps,
more slowly each day.

With dusty eyes,
it looks out
on the leaf strewn patio.
The pathway between the hedges
has grown narrow.

The house remembers
giving way to hushed voices,
rooms that feel heavy with sadness.
After a long silence,
the bustle of strange feet,
then emptiness.

On the wall
a faded rectangle remains,
shadow of a green landscape.

Back to top