Headland

Headland huddled holding staggered ground,
house held fragile against the misted sea,
in distant gazing, silenced windows;
nothing but the sigh of breathing waves is found.

As if dropped at once into final, steady place,
with each rock gathered from the falling cliff,
and pressed tightly into possibility and hope;
so does this small refuge sit with grace.

High above the suck and shrug of salty ocean,
tossing songs of crusting, ancient words,
cossetted by golden, keening bush and leaf;
trailing dusty hands with eloquent emotion.

Horizon hurls itself into its brutal destiny,
far away from what is here and now,
calling softly on the scuds of foaming light;
so my home sits quiet, ever waiting.

http://margoroby.com/2015/09/29/poem-tryouts-this-is-where-i-want-to-be/

There is no death

There is no death,
just emerging
from material form,
with a shake of damp,
fresh wings of
remembering, and
a smile for the familiar,
the known and what
has always been, and
was, even in the time
of earthly forgetting,
held within the
cocoon of incarnation,
protected by the shell
of Self which caressed
for that brief time,
your eternal Soul.

Pathetic

Pathetic was demeanour,
pitiful to see,
holding onto victimhood,
refusing to be me.

Lamentable the moaning,
inadequate the mind,
wretched was my state;
reason left behind.

Plaintive were my cries,
feeble was my heart,
paltry was all comfort;
hope was torn apart.

Harrowing the moments,
poignant and forlorn,
grieving in my sorrow;
dreams forever yawn.

Righteous was my feeling,
moral and profound,
principled my keening;
ethical my ground.

Rightful were my cries,
allowable my pain,
acceptable my raging;
noble was my gain.

Until the angels cautioned,
sedate in their appeals,
gentle, calm and soothing;
tranquil could I feel.

And in that place of reason,
where dignity did live,
I could summon memory,
remember how to give.

Shaking off the mantle,
of my victimhood,
grace did settle quietly;
forgive you, I then could.

 

http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

Flee

Flee the valley of your dreams,
free yourself and fly,
dash into the realms of real
where hope does not deny.

Let not demons trick you,
evict you from your place,
taint the scent of wonder,
try to dissolve grace.

When the days subside,
and time's no more a threat,
in the nick of time you rise;
soar on heaven's breath.


https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2015/09/19/wordle-217/#comment-4922