I have been sharing more of my poetry and prose across social media lately, being myself and sharing my words. Social media is fickle and does not belong to us, so I thought I should start gathering these words and placing them here so they are not lost. I hope you enjoy, as I will be sharing my toughts and experiences in words and images on a regular basis.
Dance of the Roses
When you rise in the morning think of the rose and her many layered petticoats, dancing in colour. The scent of other days catching you unawares, and propelling you to a memory of younger hands clutching her petals, nose buried in her perfume while your mother brought flowers from the garden, bees buzzing around her long hair, hippie skirt rippling in the wind, joining in the dance of the roses. Think not of worry or anger or jealousy or terror. Think only of the dancing and the beauty of perfection in the dance of the rose.
Closing of the Day
The closing of this day, this particular day, the one that was here and almost gone, was filled with black swans with their Loch Ness necks and pelicans, gliding across the silvery sea, impossible beaks outstretched, pointing towards the glorious sun making a scene as she slipped away while the thick billowy clouds watched from above and encircled them all.
The old and the new
Hands and bare feet in the soft damp earth, blunt scissors at the ready, she crept out into the ramshackle garden after a dinner of homemade soup, eager to see what gifts spring had brought. Tenderly she gathered the bounty, waiting for the tea to brew, breathing in the heady scent of the blooms she carried. The old cloth, found at the back of an op shop, bursting at the seams with memories and stories, was laid out ready. The old and the new singing in a perfect harmony of the day.