Sail With The Tide

Wake up to the morning with some hope upon your head,

No clouds on day to mar the view,

Soft pillow by your head,

A rushing calm, no winds on high to steer your ship astray,

Just soughing breeze and skies of blue,

A feather’d bed your day.

Let the ocean crash to shore, admiring motion, pull,

Waves are lapping where you lie,

Heart now growing full.

Tempests wreak their havoc on the greatest ships and small,

We set a course by sextant, stars

And rise before we fall.

Plot a course you want to go, a place you want to be,

A mindset mapped before you set

One foot on stormy sea.

Hoist your sails with travel advice ere you leave bedside,

Check direction, finger to air,

Set sail with the tide.

 

 

(No expert here on tall ships, no, nor sailing boats, nor cruise,

Just firm believer in sticking plaster

Before one sign of bruise.

Middle finger to the air helps too. 😛 )

 

Have a great day! ❤

 

 

Inner Eye

I built castles in the sky,

You destroyed with sneering eye,

The clouds I wove to cloak my soul

You dispersed – a pointless goal-

To prove to me that dreams and  flair

Were naught but smoke adrift in air.

But still I build a staircase wide,

Earthen bricks joined side by side

With fairy dust and faith and hope,

An optimist’s plaited, tangled rope

Suspended from the tower ledge,

Escapee’s route for lover’s pledge.

And, in the abseil from that place,

My eyes stay fixed on grace’s face,

Formed in clouds in my own sky,

Where none may blind my inner eye.

Optimism

More than enough occasions of failure to whistle a tune when it calls, but

Enough understanding that when it rolls round again,

I know I’ll rise up after the fall.

 

Too much experience with sadness and grief when it comes to pass

But enough to know that time heals like the cliché.

Unending grief does not last.

 

Too many times of depression to wish it on anyone, even a foe,

The dearth of hope and gladness of feelings

Leaves you with nowhere to go

 

But spiralling down to a sunken abyss where creatures of night fill the dark

And reason and joy depart for some time

While you wait for the song of the lark.

 

Nothing in life is unchanging and that’s the way it should be.

No stagnating pond where fish circle endlessly round,

That’s never a life for me

 

Or others that feel the persuasion, the prompting of spiritual fire,

There’s only one way, the direction is up

Soaring ever higher and higher.

 

That’s just the way it is with some, optimists I believe they are termed.

Nothing in life completely fazes us,

No matter how many times we are warned.

 

It’s a testament to either stupidity or an eternal longing for hope,

It’s viewed by some as unreality

And by others as somewhat of a joke.

 

But it’s a damn sight better than moaning and groaning for what lies way behind.

I’d rather be looking to stars and bright linings

Than staring blankly around.

 

It may be that others are doubtful at intelligence married with mirth

But there’s nothing to be done with nature’s benevolence,

That’s the way I’ve been since my birth.

 

If all of the world was a reality or pessimistic fuelled by the dire

And nothing of hope filled visions ahead

I’d jump straight down to the fire

 

Of hellish depression with no end in sight, just a yawning cavern of dark,

Nothing would make a semblance of sense.

No, I’ll hang right onto my spark.

Hail Fellow, Well Met

Nothing encapsulates all that I feel.

No words will make emotions more real.

Naught that I say may more thoroughly express

All that’s inside, for which I am blessed.

 

I could whistle out loud, a champion whistler – it’s true,

But no whistles or words could be heard by you,

Caught as you are in a whorl of earth’s darkest matter,

You hear but don’t listen; thoughts twist, turn and scatter

 

Into the night where no blue skies are seen,

Ideas and reality, a fruitless dream.

Futility embraced in a cloak of confusion

All hope a fantasy, merely illusion.

 

I’m wary of others who view all life’s chances

As a fool’s flight of fancy,

To be dismissed as a fairy tale, an epic collusion

Of mind and reality, just a protrusion

 

Of self in a place where castles feel real.

I’d rather live there than have visions crushed under heel

By those who diminish all hope with a smile,

A patronising nod and a hail, all the while

 

They laugh inside at my mirth and belief

That only we are, of life, our own tormentor and thief.

I know too many that shrug at all prospects

Doomed into gloom by their limited aspects.

 

I find it so hard to be at their side,

They vacuum my hope, my beliefs from inside.

So better than dying to internal death,

I leave them to be, although they’re bereft.

 

I can’t convince by effort alone,

I can’t infuse what they’ve never grown,

That hopes and desires are what make us live.

Each day a blessing, an option to give

 

One more venture, another gamble with stakes

That enhance possibilities, if risks we will take.

I’m gambling on life and all joys it proffers.

If you must, stay without. But don’t scoff at my nerve

 

That jumps like a jockey on a thoroughbred of great worth,

Leaping at fences and hazards that birth

New opportunities, aspirations to beget.

I’m sorry for you. Hail fellow, well met.

Closed/Open

The sign is up,

‘Closed’, it says.

Open soon as

Better days

End recession,

Deep depression.

That’s when

They’ll open up.

 

‘Gone to lunch’

For quite some time

Head in mire where

No things rhyme.

Nothing making

Any sense.

May never

Open up.

 

‘Be back soon’,

This Fagin’s song,

Stolen treasure

Does belong

Wherever you may

See a need

To help

One open up.

 

‘Coming soon’,

New stock here,

Open heart

So full of cheer

At all of chances

Life may give.

At last,

They open up.

The Ghost Of Nothing

The ghost of nothing came to me,

Visited my soul,

Asked me questions I could not answer,

Responses trapped inside a hole

Of unknowing.

 

The ghost of nothing follows close

Chasing all its chances,

Searches me, my fantasies,

All my childish fancies

And hopes.

 

The ghost of nothing breathes my air,

Quenches all my fire,

Seeks to suck all sanctuary

In effort to conspire

Against will.

 

The ghost of nothing steals and flees,

Taking all away

Till emptiness and nothingness

Overtake and stay,

For a while.

 

The ghost of nothing once departed

Leaves a gaping wound

That starts to heal when nothing’s left.

Nothing left but the sound

Of silence.

 

The ghost of nothing hides away

And watches from way back,

Waiting till well fills once more

And plans renewed attack,

With force.

 

The ghost of nothing, once full known

Betrays its battle plans,

Self, protects from aching void

And takes a different stance

Of defiance and faith

And optimism.

 

Video reading The Ghost Of Nothing