What If?

What if every place you’d ever lived could tell a story;

A recounting of your life by many walls?

What if every word you’d said and deed you’d done there

Were embedded in the rooms and in the halls?

 

What if one day when you wanted to remember

All the living that you’d done in houses past,

You put glass to wall and stories fairly poured forth?

Would you recognise the days and years all passed?

 

If a record of your days in each was written

And portrayed poetically in film or book

Would you read, survey, enjoy all that you saw there?

Be happy so to have another look?

 

Or would walls be haunted by memories that maimed there

And bleed distempered paint into the rooms?

Would the years and months and days be reflective of your dreams

Or a nightmare lived, encased in fetid tombs?

 

What if those you’d known and loved were all still present

In the fabric of the buildings that you’ve known?

Would their eyes be wide like yours at the secrets all revealed

At the manner of your ways not always shown?

 

What if where you lived right now had all new plaster

And a sheath to shelter brick from broken tithes?

Would you take the chance to start afresh and try there

To edit and improve upon your life?

More Than Mere Words

Are you ok?

Are you well?

I need to know these things.

When I care, I care.

I can’t make that go away.

Are you thriving?

Are you happy?

Do you need someone?

Is life blessing your days?

Is there a way I can help?

Just say.

Love is what it is.

And spreads.

Be well.

Be blessed by love.

Don’t be afraid.

Or alone.

How are you?

More than mere words.

Sun Dance

Words are playing in my head

And writing them down is a way

To empty my brain

And find relief from all said

But the words trouble

And scare and berate

Is it too late?

Admonishment and promise exist

In harmonious fulfilment.

Hope arises.

 

Times ahead

Known when seen

Vast oceans of darkness 

And flood

To test and tempt

Wonder at on earth

And above

Angels quake at

Anger and fierce

Retribution

 

Rainbows of hope

Messages too subtle

Await anew

 

 A double-edged sword

A message for three

And the sun knows

And sees and shows

North, South and round

Dance, bask and grow

Our light from the light

Be advised

Arise

Awake

Act.

Battle Of The Sexes? Let’s Get Serious.

I wrote a poem yesterday. A Feeling. What’s new? Well, one of the comments on my poem for starters.

‘Your post is all about him. What about her? Sorry, I am very angry at the ‘so called’ brotherhood of hu-man-ity. Bye.’

I’ll attempt to address this without seeming patronising but I sincerely struggle with anyone’s objection to the use of certain words. There are 152 words in this poem. Five of them may be perceived as referring to gender if wished.

‘His’ references a phoenix. Used as a metaphor.  Three times ‘his’ was used.

‘Humanity’ or’ brotherhood’ to describe the fellowship or unity of homo sapiens as a species.

I have long since passed the need to be politically correct in my use of sex defining pronouns and refuse to write poems that must refer to he/she, him/her etc. And I use other words as I see fit.

My first loyalty is to Spirit that I believe we all are. Next to part of a species – human beings. That is what we are called. Lastly, but no less importantly, to my sex. I am a woman and proud of it but I do not need to prefix every point I make with politically correct lexicon that seeks to subvert common understanding.

‘Hu-person-ity’ would just be ridiculous. ‘People’ did not say what I wanted it to say. ‘Personhood’ would be almost equally ridiculous. I embrace my humanity. And can find no better word to elicit the understanding that is universal in its name.

The etymology and definition of words are there to be researched and understood in their fullest context. Should separatism be seen in words, there is more likelihood that the perception is born of subjective analysis by the reader than overt or subversive intention by the author.

If I saw a man on the street in need of help- and I do mean a man here, one with a penis – would I be less likely to come to that person’s aid than if I saw a woman lying in the same need? Woman as in, ‘I have a vagina’. Of course not. Or is that just me? Are there those whose humanity – compassion, fellowship, charity, mercy – is governed by the sex of a person? Please tell me this is not true. That the perception of humanity is gender defined.

When I say ‘Man’ or ‘man’ in general terms it ought to be obvious to anyone that the reference is to humanity, people, homo sapiens. Give me a better word.

I am aware that in some parts of the world there is an ongoing battle with equality between the sexes in many ways. The struggle continues and I support equality and justice. I fight for equality and justice. For people. All people. Regardless of sex. Colour. Creed. Nationality.

I’ve lived for 53 years now. It does not take even a fraction of that time to come to the conclusion I came to as a very young woman – maybe in my late teens- that those who are enlightened to justice and equality have no need to embark on arguments that belittle common sense.

I accept ‘chairperson’ because it works as a replacement for ‘chairman’. One or two others do too. I can’t even be arsed trying to think of which ones. Seriously, it is beneath me.

When men seek to define women in derogatory ways by using words like slut, whore, bitch, etc. yes I object for there is no real equivalent in speaking of the actions of men unless we start to use, man-slut, man-whore.

There are men and women of goodness just as there are men and women of evil intent. There are men who recognise equality and justice for all just as there are women. To argue otherwise negates half of society and relegates that half to something less than human.

To denegrate the sense of women by entering into nonsensical word changes for the sake of political correctness makes me hang my head in shame. We, as women, are better than that surely. Have more sense than that. Surely?

The same is true for many other forms of politically correct address and simply makes a nonsense of well-reasoned arguments. If the intention is to slur by words then certainly argue your case. But, how often is that the case?

I think I am correct in saying that the USA has become more prone to this type of p.c. nonsense. Correct me if I’m wrong. If you’re bald then you’re bald. ‘Follicly challenged.’ Don’t make me laugh. ‘Vertically challenged?’ You’re short. So what?

There is one human species. There are battles raging among nations. There are people fighting the world over for justice and equality in the name of right and truth.

Let’s stick to the important stuff and stop sweating the trivia. Please. In the name of common sense. And if you want to be taken seriously.

My answer to the commenter was:-

‘I am sorry you feel that any reference to people in words that are universally recognised in meaning should somehow slur womankind. I do not.’

‘What Do Women Want?’

Now Suz, you have nailed it, as a female with a mind,

Experience in womanhood. Men must seek and so they’ll find

That much of what a woman wants is tethered to the stars.

I know they say that we hail from Venus while men exist on Mars.

 

A cosmic soul comparison to highlight different spheres,

A lifetime spent in wondering, overcoming fears.

But planets should collide in space in some ethereal way

And, on earth, we bump together too but all men have to say, is

 

‘Darling, what’s your heart’s desire? Tell me, I will try.

I’ll promise love eternally and search until I die,

To overcome your subtleties, learn to read your clues,

Endeavour to be true all days, pay what is your due.

 

I’ll harness stars and catch the moon, remove obstacles in our path,

I’ll humour you when you are blue, I’ll try to make you laugh.

I’ll even buy you personals when Christmas comes along,

I’ll sing to you with lover’s voice and soothe you with my song.

 

Is that enough to win your heart? What more, please, pray me tell,

Guessing at your nuances, men don’t do that very well.’

Now that’s a start, if men are willing to read the woman’s book,

They’ll tell you if you really ask. And listen, that’s the hook.

 

‘You’ve said it all, that’s all I ask. Willingness to show,

Hidden voice within my head, you’re trying to understand and know.

Woo me with a sense of worth, seasons full of longing,

Ensure your heart is open wide, a place I may belong in.

 

Answer me in sentences, not cryptic yes or no’s.

We use our words expressively, while your dearth quite often shows

That what we’re trying to say to you goes right over your head.

Then we lose the plot at you and you wonder what you said.

 

The point you see is you don’t say much to express all that is real

You seem to think we should absorb, osmosis-like, what you feel.

To you, a word or two should do, a nod or gesture feint

To speak your love, exact desires. It doesn’t work! Not quaint!

 

Exactitude in what you feel, expressed in tender giving,

From heart and soul and mind as well; Woman’s way for living.

Just a thought or two for you. Hope it’s not too much.

That it doesn’t blow your mind wide open at all that mush and such

 

Anti-male, Jessie-like, entrapments for the ‘soft’.

Not soft at all but strength it shows; we’ll hold you so aloft

If all that you convey to us is done with purest love

And sensual thrown in, for good measure. That might just be enough!’

 

No more I’ll say. I’m telling you, women speak in heaps,

But not all we say is heeded, a pity, it would keep

Unnecessary confusion from cluttering up our way.

Openness and honesty might help to win the day.

 

Remember though that truthfulness, although a wondrous gift,

Should not be used when she asks, ‘Does my bum look big in this?’

A gentle smile, no smirks, not wise, if you want to keep your teeth.

See, it’s all quite easy. Next question, if you please!

Tell Me About It

A plough drags stars across firmament’s field,

Occasionally drops one, so Heaven may yield

A soul on the earth that once lit up the night,

Now cascades brightness and life-giving light.

 

Tell me about it, these magical ways,

How earth meets the heavens and wonder portrays.

Tell me about it in songs that you sing,

In stories once written to entertain kings,

In poems and in quotes that entertain all.

Tell me about it, these words so enthral.

 

A trawler drags nets through oceans and seas,

Harnesses life from the depths to release

A multitude of dreams and millions of wishes

Of a world where mermaids live, conversing with fishes.

 

Tell me about it, these magical ways,

How minds mingle with folklore and nights become days.

Tell me about it in pictures and books,

In animations and films I once mistook

As reality melded with poetic allusion.

Tell me about it, wondrous dreams of confusion.

 

A jet drags clouds from Olympus’ peak,

Reveals gods and goddesses playing chess and who speak

To a world of mere pawns in a royal array,

Defending battles that rage, all part of the play.

 

Tell me about it, these magical ways,

How heaven, earth and oceans intermingle in plays.

Tell me about it, the comic and sad,

Tragedies and fantasies, some semblance of mad

Influence from lunar, the tricks of the mind.

Tell me about it, we’ll seek and we’ll find.

 

 Garner your dreams, let spirit drag

Through mind, soul and ether, all memories you’ve had.

Mix the concoction as a magical potion,

Spread it on thickly, full of flighty emotion.

 

Tell me about it, I love all that stuff.

Of flight, love and fantasy, never enough.

Tell me about it, imagination unfold,

In mind and in spirit may we never grow old

Though in body we rest as the years take their toll.

Tell me about it. Dreams are our goal.

Fortune’s Fool

I wish I was clairvoyant,

Future I’d unwind.

Or, like Indie, an adventurer,

Then your treasures I would find.

I’d seek them out and polish them

Like gems of greatest worth

And lovingly enfold them

In softest velvet purse.

Every one would be to me

A portent of our times,

Directing cause and so effect,

Reason made from rhymes.

But better yet than Fortune’s fool

I may lay my head upon your chest

While you stroke my hair and whisper words

That ease and give me blessed rest

Till fire aflames from hearts so pure

That angels hear and falter, at

Honesty and gift of love

That fortune may not alter.

Understanding

Honed to perfection,

Sharpened to a point,

Clear as running water,

Honest words anoint

 

Giver and receiver,

Taken to the heart.

Truth will set you free, they say,

Let utterances impart

 

Comfort to the wounded,

Insights to the blind,

Love revealed, in lightness,

Salving every mind.

 

Maybe not so serious,

Some laughter and a smile,

Some rectitude for what’s not good

Can make it all worthwhile.

 

A simple plan to ease the pain,

Honour where it’s due,

Sincerity in all we say,

Trust may thus accrue.

 

And with that trust comes something else,

A bolder way of being,

Intuitions and perceptions

Help with all we’re seeing.

 

No magic in the formula,

No poison pen of ink,

Simplistic, fair and genuine

Streamlines how we think.

 

Much easier then if words are real,

Honest, forthright, strong.

Confusions end, paths made straight,

Minds suffer if they’re wrong

 

In thinking what another says

Is somehow meant for them.

Care in how we phrase ourselves

May nullify the pain.

 

Losing in translation,

A risk we have to take,

But clarity, corrections made,

Of openness partake.

 

Undiluted, concentrate,

Speak as how we feel,

Remembering that hurts are wrong,

Help each other heal.

Soul Connections

Across the distance,

Telepathy

Transmits a message,

Only we,

Tied to other

As a twin,

May understand

And therefore win

The knowing that

No words need speak,

For souls communicate

And seek.

Then distance

Falls apart when one

Lifts the phone

And tells the sum

Total of

What they have heard.

The message relayed

Without a word.

My friendships

Know this strange connection.

Spirits speak,

No greater affection.

Books In My Mind

Old stories revisited and pictures viewed,

Words known from before, inhaled and imbued.

Classics to keep inside and forever,

Authors of wisdom and words that I treasure.

Turning the pages of yesterday’s books,

Remembering when I first had a look

At fantastical writing from many admired,

Enthralled by the images their stories inspired.

Then turning to new, where words are devotion

Embracing the talent of author’s emotions.

Wondering how they find what to say

In marvellous prose and poetic array.

Searching for new meanings inside the old,

In all of the stories I’ve ever been told,

In all of the writings I’ve ever read,

That now live inside me, exist in my head.

Profusion of persons making a trail

Imparting illusion I breathe and inhale.

Delightful depictions of destiny found

In reading and sorting these books all around

On library’s shelves where they live till I find

Rediscovered treasures I keep in my mind.