I don’t normally do a lot of reposts, and not in so close succession – but I was tidying up my tags to remove double-ups and misspelling, etc (as you do), and stumbled upon this one. I read it and got a chill down my back, and I have learnt not to ignore those subtle signs, so I’m sharing it again. The original post can be found here.
In the quiet of a winters day,
or zephyr breeze in spring,
in summer haze and autumn leaf,
the drop of rain, or growth of grass
in crunch of frost, the flow of sand
open mind and open heart,
and you will hear ,
the Universe is breathing.
Facebook “On This Day” has just reminded me that once upon a time I enjoyed participating in a Haiku Challenge. This one resonated with me today, as it’s challenge words were “think” and “fresh“. The original post from 2 years ago can be found here.
The fresh scent of Autumn
shaking off languid Summer
I think of regrets.
Dear Bloggy-friend Lily, I promised you a lullaby, and I had composed a cracker of one driving to work on Tuesday, but as usual I had forgotten it by the time I was anywhere I could write it down. All I remember now was that I was going to call it “The C F Lullaby”. The C F was optional as to what it might signify, there were a couple of thoughts running through my head, and doubtless through yours also – please feel free to assign them at your leisure.
Anyway, the C F Lullaby has been lost to the swervy pathways of my verse-riddled brain, and this is what I came up with tonight. It is nowhere as elegant as the first that I thought of – (I can safely say that as no-one other than me actually knows what I thought first, and all I can remember now is the feel of it – a bit clever, a bit neat, a bit soporific) – but I offer it in good faith, and great wishes that it may induce a state of boredom, which will lead to sleep, if you read it enough times!
Hush painful body, please don’t make me cry,
I don’t have the energy, and you know that’s not a lie.
Please just let me lay here and try to go to sleep,
you know I’m over counting all the bloody sheep.
Hush aching body, relax here on the bed,
forget about the worries filling up my head.
Ignore my restless legs with an agenda of their own,
all I want to do now is find the sleep zone.
Hush stupid body, you make me feel so mad,
for all the things I cannot do, since I lost the life I had.
I’ve only got one purpose now, to sleep the night away,
so I can wake up with some energy to face another day.
Hush sleepy body, I am very thankful that,
we made it through the day somehow, and had this little chat.
So this same time tomorrow, when its time to sleep,
don’t make me sing this song again before unconsciousness I meet.
It’s little things that push,
the buttons that say “don’t”,
you always think you’ll know,
but you really ever won’t.
There’s just the hiss of vacuum,
as the air goes rushing out,
when the button touches circuits,
that say “now it’s time to shout”.
And after it’s all over,
and the button has popped back,
you’ll wonder what just happened,
as you angst upon the rack.
P.S. I am absolutely fine, this is not me writing about how I feel just now (although I do admit to it sometimes happening to me). No, this is just how my rhyme-brain works sometimes! I was just peacefully playing a game of Solitaire on the computer and this demanded to be written. And, so I did. I don’t want to push the button!
***My brain just won’t let this one go, it nagged at me today, (don’t be so wordy, make it cleaner, simpler, distil it down) so I had to rewrite it again. I promise, this is the last time, a variation of three is more than enough.
you may be.
the unknown part,
P.S. even as I typed it, the words changed again – this one is slippery!
somewhere out there,
you may be.
the other half of my love,
the other half of my life.
come find me,
*Based on an old, old poem I wrote 30 years ago – re-written today
words, raw and chaotic
spilling like an upturned toybox,
a riot of colour and shape and size,
waiting to be sorted, to be loved or discarded
and ultimately, reduced to black type on white screen.
the gleeful joy of the upended toybox,
now constrained by order.
who can say which is best to convey meaning?