Poetry Archive :: Inhale

Always start with the inward breath…

In a week where it was almost impossible to meditate, I tried. Amazingly, the level of success was good. Things got done, there was less stress, considering my body was (for several days) rejecting the food it was provided with some speed. However, come the weekend and everything is finally working out.

Sometimes, you have to ignore the chaff and just focus on the seeds.


Inhale

With inward breath:
new drill begins.
Focus your brain,
release those sins.

A moment’s calm
in hectic day.
Expand belief,
anxiousness slayed.

Inhale allows
consciousness space.
Reducing fear
and heart-rate’s haste.

Now, look within,
identified:
Shortcomings marked,
not amplified.

To meditate
takes time, practice:
So much around
will deflect this.

Eliminate
distractions, then
Direct each thought,
start once again.

True clarity
appears by chance:
Brief moments grasped
training advanced.

When mind wanders
invite it back;
Find peace with self,
ignore what’s lacked.

Don’t hate yourself
Find love inside,
Halt stress and guilt
No need to hide.

To meditate,
a lifetime’s goal:
Your end result,
Awareness, whole.


Poetry Archive :: Sunset Now

Last week was significant for a lot of reasons, and felt (in places) as if I was shedding a skin. As a result everything is a little behind today: not because there was no desire to work or get up to date, but because other, more personal issues gained greater prominence.

This poem helps me over an obsession with how days begin and end, with a new, more intimate understanding of what me actually means. I can’t stop the inevitable march of time, but embracing the markers we place upon it allows less stress over the process and greater relaxation in the passing.


Sunset Now

The last stand, daylight fades:
Memories of light cascades,
Final moments of fight
Evening turning to night.

Moment, contemplation
Relive day’s sensations:
Another end begins
Unwavering, Earth spins.

No way to change outcomes
As consequence becomes
Inevitable fate;
Harsh truths grasped far too late.

Comes end, another day
Tried to find best way,
Not repeating mistakes:
Avoiding new heartaches

Sunset now granting means
Evolving past my genes:
Much better days will come
With battles conquered, won.


Poetry Archive :: Transitions

Occasionally, I get really lucky.

This poem is one of those moments.

Please enjoy something I am VERY proud of.

 


Transitions

This moment transcends inertia
Acute feelings: collide, entwine
Absorbed into the other’s skin
Belief of better sought within.

Make me the mirror of your care:
Sent light upwards towards the dawn,
Far better sunrise for each day
Coaxing belief along our way.

Exhaling negativity
Requiring only breath and hope;
Ignite joint passion without fear
Illuminate true path now clear.

Simple acceptance is required
Transitions, understanding set.
Bright sharpness, brilliant, sublime;
Redefinition comes with time.

To turn around two lives of pain
Impossible thrown out of play:
Becoming sum of diverse parts
Devotion scored on willing hearts.


Poetry Archive :: We Are Strong

An awful lot has changed in the last seven days. My arm has come forward in leaps and bounds (if that is an acceptable metaphor for an upper limb) to the point where I was able to do tiny press-ups yesterday. The long-term goal for fitness is to not worry so much about ability going forward but to become stronger in both body and mind. That one word is my ‘beautiful’: if I feel strong, anything is possible.

This week’s micropoetry, therefore, is dedicated to my own recovery and the prize of greater gains at the end of this rehabilitation period.


We Are Strong

Whatever may be placed ahead
To fill the mind with fear and dread:
Deep strength is found to overcome
Against all odds, each battle won.

There’ll come clear moments in this life
Where opportunity beats strife:
Grasp every chance to change your game,
Keep equilibrium maintained.

Hard fortress built around the fears
Protecting heart and soul for years:
Have courage, stand and break it down,
Elect new rulers, progress crowned.

Standing in these ruined remains
No longer shackled with own chains;
Turn right around to stare outside
Exorcise fright, let wisdom guide.

Become the architect of change,
Define redemption, now arrange:
Never forget, that We are Strong
Within this future, all belong.


Poetry Archive :: The End

You’re seeing this much later than originally advertised, for which I apologise, as life slowly gets back to normal after my enforced layoff.  This is a largely uneven work, if I’m honest, which may well get revisited and revised as time goes on. As it transpires, however, this a decent testament to my mood as drugs didn’t work and indeed made things worse.


The End

Skipping to the last page
Predicting own demise,
Obsessed with an ending
Long before it arrives:
Life remains for living
Make better use of time,
Gift that keeps on giving
Moments stay sublime.

Healthy not to look back
Focussing on the now,
Sometimes backwards helps to
Grasp understanding how;
Why history repeats,
Mistakes made time, again;
Reorganise methods,
Conscious, against the grain.

Start to plan your next phase,
Stop worrying ‘bout time:
End arrives regardless
Out of your hands and mine.
Instants as if your last,
The mantra of each day:
Letting go of concern
Allows fears to allay.

Time is key, happiness
And with it, sense of self;
Know how mind, body work
To maintain pristine health.
Trusting soul, nothing else
Enlightenment arrives;
Let go of fear and doubt,
Consistency survives.

You’re the problem to solve
Take a long, cold hard look:
Time to move with times,
Get this brain to unhook.
Think, what would happen if
Tomorrow was the end?
Start today with the change,
Modify, habits mend.


Poetry Archive :: Not Any More

This week was about writing the poems, doing the miles and not allowing an injury to overtake everything. It didn’t help I finally succumbed to the cold both my kids have been labouring with on Thursday, but as I’m already on the way to recovery, it’s no biggie. Plus, I’ve done more work in the last week on both bike and legs because left arm is not happy changing gears. Sometimes, it isn’t the issues that you have to deal with that matter, but how you view them as either positives or negatives.

Here are 20 lines based on the Beatles’ song “She’s Leaving Home” with a vital sex change.


Not Any More

The bags are packed, by old front door
An early morning chance to run;
He’s just not taking any more
Escaping from this life’s begun.

Old Beatles song plays in his head
With sexuality transposed:
Main reason why he makes the break
To live in freedom, unopposed.

Family cannot understand
Supposed to be their loving son,
Attempt to tether him with fear
Their line is drawn, arguments done.

A bright new day shines on the path
Direction now he walks alone;
Away from prejudice and spite
Only existence ever known.

To be a lover and a friend,
As partner waits to start anew:
From anger, hatred two men forge
Beginning, brilliant and true.


Poetry Archive :: Imperfect

The last week’s been tough, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve found out a lot about myself, and not all of it has been good. In an attempt to learn how to communicate better, a lot of shortcomings have been identified. Yet again, as we go back to the start of a month and a new set of projects, comes the realisation that habit is okay. I’m getting better at organising, but that in turn shows up more imperfections in the planning.

This week’s poetry, therefore, reflects an almost perennial struggle to improve the process, both personal and professional. This poem’s also been slightly edited between first publication and here.


Imperfect

However hard I try,
There is no escaping.
Countless faults and foibles:
Embedded in shaping
The person within,
Find space to begin.

All that is seen, these holes
Counted imperfections:
How conflict forged my soul.
Sadness, recollections;
Move past times I failed
Shortcomings exhaled.

In the darkest of days
It would be so simple:
Ignoring my failings
Those dreadful examples.
Of me at my worst:
Pained, selfish outbursts.

As this new morning dawns
Renewed optimism:
At the journey ahead,
Time for heroism.
Put doubt to one side;
No need now to hide.

Grasping all of the tasks,
With belief as a guide:
It is time to evolve,
Go along for the ride.
Whatever may come
I’ll cope, ‘til it’s done.