poems

[myrtlemaid]

A Pair of old slippers


In the barely remembered past,
We were, each to the other, mysteries
Waiting to unfoldlike buds of scented roses
Sweet and beautiful .

And I longed to know and be known,
But shied away from revelation ,
lest the truth be to ugly for you to bear,
And exposure left me naked and alone.

I did not know that uncovering would be freedom,
And my very vulnerability would draw you to me,
I did not want to be needy and at your mercy
And yet craved your protection too, ah so contradictory.

Gently and with kindness you drew me,
Out of me and to you,
lead me to places  beyond my dreams
Where hope was possible and trust was safe.

I learned to be strong,
More self reliant and powerful,
Than I could have been alone.
And yes I liked the new me as she appeared .

Now we fit together like the lid to a pot,
Snugly, securely but not inseparable,
We have changed, grown comfortable,
And sit side by side like a pair of old slippers

[KizzyKazaer]

You wrote that yourself?  I'm not a poetry fan usually, but I enjoyed that.  You have a bit of a talent there, Myrtle  >biggrin<

[auntieCtheM]

 >applause< >applause< >applause< >applause< >applause< >applause< >applause< >applause<  >hugs<

[boccius]

Yes indeed - I've seen the poem on one or two places on the internet, and have often wondered who wrote it - so now we know!

A

[Sunshine Meadows]

Its a lovely poem thank you for sharing it  >hugs<

[nessarose]

I love your writing truely inspirational

[myrtlemaid]

Thanks for all the nice comments.. sorry I didnt reply before.. having aslightly difficult time,,, sometimes I can write lots and otherdays nowt.

[auntieCtheM]

myrtlemad, you are an artist, not a machine.  Of course you cannot churn it out all the time.

[myrtlemaid]

thanks Aunty...  >bighugs<... if only creativity was like sausage making

[auntieCtheM]

Like wot punch and judy do??

[myrtlemaid]

um think theyre more likely to use them for strangulation purposes
 >biggrin<

[myrtlemaid]

Finding my child


In longing, and yearning,
Im wasting time,
just watching the hard world 
On its wildly spinning axis,
Making the same mistakes,
Over and over again.

And all of my hopes are dying,
And im feeling so damned old,
And my fears take me close to crying,
Is the child inside me dying ?
And madness beckons soon.

So Im going back to the country,
To the trees and green clad hills
To give my soul some succour
And to bring peace to my mind.

And the whistling of the sighing  wind 
Is comfort from the troubles of the town
And I feel like a traveller who was lost ,
And now has found his home

And I know despite the whirling,
Of a mind that’s tossed and turned,
That this is where I want to be,
And where I would remain.

And the brook that babbles by my door
And grinds the stones to sand
Speaks gently of the silence
I thought Id never find

Where in the darkest places
Where my thoughts destroy and hurt me
Theres a little voice that tells me
I CAN be strong

And I lie in the arms of nature ,
In the shelter of her breast .
And her love and peace
Sustain me while I weep.
And as  pain leeches from me
Im safe within my sanctuary
And she gives me time to find myself again

And the child inside me sings and skips
And reaches for the sun
Thinks if she could just jump REALLY  high
She could touch it like a ball.
And now I can embrace her ,
And draw her back inside me,
And show her how she too can feel free.

And she points a single finger
at a fox upon a hill,
Gives me her awe of nature
And lets me share her thrill
And I am going to keep her
As well as she can be
Because now that ive refound her
I need her close to me.

And so we’ll rest here,
Me and “my child” forever.
And live a specially full and peaceful life.

And I will be myself, and all my parts ,
Whatever storms I weather.
And take the child within me
Along lifes path forever.

[ATurtle]

Not mine, I found this and feel it's beautiful.

[myrtlemaid]

wow turtle thats a really powerful poem..thanks for posting it. >hugs<

[Dic Penderyn]

 by Ethel Fisher MBE

These rhymes are not intended

For those of ‘highbrow mind’

They’re just fireside reflections

Of the very simplest kind

Written by a housewife

Who can always find the time

To gather thoughts, here and there

And put them into rhyme.

ETHEL FISHER

M.B.E.

New Every Morning


 

Five o'clock, at early dawn, I walked the garden trod

There I saw, quite clearly, the wondrous work of God.

The air was cool, and scented - peace reigned over all

Till, - somewhere in the distance, - I heard a curlew call.

As if it were a signal, for all the world to rise

Then suddenly, a streak of light, sped swiftly through the skies.

Followed by another flash of gold against the blue

All at once, the sky was filled with multi-coloured hue.

So quickly did it happen, I almost missed the pleasure

Of watching, as the sun arose, to spread her golden treasure.

It made the hedge-rows glisten, and sparkled all the dew,

Till everything around me, seemed bright, and shining new,

I watched it, very carefully, and all the earth seemed still,

As, silently yet gloriously, it clothed a distant hill.

It really was delightful, to watch the new-born sun

Make our sleeping world aware, - a new day had begun,

Nature seemed to come alive beneath it's golden gleam,

Tiny flowers stirred, as if awakened by a dream.

Life, beneath a sunlit sky, felt somehow more secure

"None who've seen a sunrise, through early morning mist,

Could ever watch, then say outright, that God does not
exist".