The Pied Piper of Dreams (7 x7 square poem)

He was the pied piper of dreams.

Was the orchestra proud?! Tooting melodies serene;

The orchestra sublime, glorious chorus bringing dusk,

Pied proud glorious feathers of heavenly shades,

Piper tooting chorus of beautiful birdsong velvet;

Of melodies bringing heavenly birdsong in harmony,

Dreams serene, dusk shades, velvet harmony ends.

This challenge was to write a complete square poem of 7 lines x 7 words that display the same words vertically as well as horizontally, but forgiving of necessary punctuation, usually 24 hrs to complete. Absolute fun, not aimed to be a tongue twister though. I just couldn't bring myself to let go of this one.

We do take for granted a lot of nature around us, maybe we don't even notice the birds a lot of the time, so to take time to recall the sounds and focus on not just how they make us feel but to bask in the wonder of how it must be for the birds ... to have this marvellous interaction with each other and create such beauty all around simply by being. It's true not every bird has such sweet sounds ... what a unique moment to treasure when we are lucky enough to take time to listen.

Sunshine Falls Hard

 Silver embossed hairbrush is duplicated by the mirror

its' laid upon for years, surrounded.

Guided fingers gently trail around a regiment of trinkets,

secrets carefully tucked away where loving eyes

buried deeply treasured memories into pinewood

dressing table drawer; softly lined with 

delicate paper that once wore cascades of a fragrant rose;

Pleated now and faded thin as tissue,

fingertips breaking the fine layer of fluff

causing its dispersal into the daylight rays

projecting from the window to bounce each

fleck of lint around the mirror, like

tiny feathers lost from angel wings.

Turning my head towards your picture

the sunshine falls hard across my face. 

There is no replacement for a person lost from us to this world but they shine through every part of our being. The warmth of a memory can live in any moment of our day.

A Gust of Heather

 As far as an eye's stretch over the last lamb

the flow of the heather sails flush against the sun;

Belting out indigo waltzes hummed in tune

with the wind turbines repeating whirl ..

Sky to land, sky to land, sky to land,

the last dance saved for the harvest moon.

All the time layered between seed to plant

creation of colour from the bee to the lover;

From the slow, quick step, quick step, slow

whipping air light spinning twirls...

causing a fragrance to bleed 

its flavour into the waking furrow.

Nature can really dance aligned with us ... just know when the balance is right!

Sausage Rope Skies

 A Childhood Memory

A Children's Journey story

Look at the sausage rope skies!

When the air turns sour I look for cheese

hanging over the cottages waiting in line.

It's always laundry day there.

The chickens know it and rejoice!

Until the clatter of steel bins wakes mother.

These ropes turn for skipping now

sending out little bubble cars.

Wouldn't it be glorious to jump on the roof?

Flailing legs over the red tiles

with propeller blade arms winding

Bzzzrrpp Bzzzrrpp Bzzzrrpp

Imagine how cross the hens would be

if we landed on every brown egg.

The old woman sang with the choir once.

I heard her legs wobbled like thunder on a cold day

until spring afternoon arrived on the porch.

The sausage ropes have gone now,

bled into the silky blues of the afternoon.

Just as we reach the top of the hill 

the sky is no longer our focus as eyes linger

on the outstretched valley, deep bold green ..

Oxygen for the heart's river!

Breathe it in harsh until the vision is set ...

This is the stencil we came here to roam.

Oh how my sister and I roamed, children's imagination is so precious, there is always such joy in simple things, to be outdoors with that freedom to explore is the best!

Mid-Yawn

 When the seasons divide bringing air to rush

mouths to halt mid-yawn at thunder's clatter;

As energy subsides to fear of morning's hush,

winding limbs recoiling causing dreams to shatter.

When ordained skies move as one with the earth,

in that second when all is in view on life's horizon;

Laid bare, caressed of hope transparent, undisturbed;

In that brief interlude, in that copse of heaven smiling.

That is when our bond lives outside of earthly realm.

That is where our love is molten gold and shining ..

Where shadows sweep and search high for our gem;

There is our sacred altar where our hearts lay as diamonds.

It is such a good feeling to know that to describe a feeling in a certain way can bring another person to complete understanding and recognition. The best part is knowing we are united with humility.

O Ceallaigh!

 I do not care that he did not say sorry.

It pulls my heart only that he did not feel it.

Coveting of my words - private, laid bare 

and vulnerable, innermost feeling;

not his experience, not his truth!

Plunged like a wound to my soul.

In the discovery not of his sharing my words 

as his to own, not that, but in all the loss;

I lost years .. staying, waiting, being unaware

that all he did to bring me down, to discredit me,

was done to hide his deed. 

That thrashing of my soul was not innocent.

It was contrived in every motion, gesture, hammered out.

No emotion, he was not present, not ever with me.

He knows yet still hides and exalts himself.

He cannot see beyond the perimeter I know is there.

This makes me sad for life, for truth is never his, nor will be.

He cannot release his inner self.

I have a way to let go of my pain that is bereft to him.

We can all be hurt by betrayal but the hardest part of any experience is to have to accept that no matter how much you care for someone their change has to come from within themself - their own personal growth. If they lack empathy so much to put their ego in front of all they do then that is all they can become. We are better to walk away than to have them change our own self belief and purpose.

Heaven's Avalanche

 The heaven's avalanche cascades.

Starlight bursts through earth's charade.

In skies so dark hope has appeared,

through silence thrown on crisp air clear.

The North Star bright stares at The Plough

and orders tides to settle down;

A happy rain cloud gives one last shudder

as it gently shakes on word of thunder.

Angels heads bow down to host

Christ their saviour and holy ghost.

It is quite innate in us all as children to be so in wonder of descriptive stories and prayers and oh how we love to feel a part of it all. 

Compassion

 Campassion tilts the heart, until ready to pour.

If there was any evidence of where love had begun;

If I could plunge my hand into the belly of my soul,

to bring forth the sapling of its origin, crisp and fresh;

As the newborn truth of my desire for your happiness,

would your doubts be quenched ...

or recomposed as fears?

In our quests to express the bond with what we know within and the frustrations we can feel to the lack of awareness in others ... it is in that wise moment that the deep truth touches us to reach toward compassion ... the tilting heart is always open.

As An Audience Sleeps

 As the dusk arrives and the moss gathers on a thousand pebbles;

As the colour strips away from the peeling clouds;

As the dark night doubts, for just one second, before he allows

the first star to splash its delight; lifting the darkness to the boon of twilight

which draws the empty soul out from under the covers that are

the tranquil mask over day;

As the ocean falters on its decision and shakes hands with the moon

as he turns on his projector;

As the earth begins to shiver with heavy eyelids,

unable to throw her glory into the prevailing light shimmer;

As the moment of whispers and secrets is revealed

as an audience sleeps;

That's when all questions are answered.

Accepting all that is as it is, relenting to the understanding that we can control but we are not in control. Man did not create the universe. That brings to bear its glory.

Sunkissed Remnants

 Seasons skip, the foxgloves refuse.

An array is imminent, they have learned the wall

but not the sun; elegance but no scent.

A small buff moth is thrown

to the cool breeze, lost nomad seeking shelter

dances into the shadows;

no charisma without light.

Tomorrow the sky may shimmer

as foxgloves yawn to the warmth, sunkissed silhouettes

caressing the wall like rain.

Everything around us will remind us of just how glorious all life is, how every living organism depends on another ... all can change, be affected by the elements one on another. Precious nature relies on our protection. 

Visualising

 You told me that the butterfly would always bring me news,

Your presence I could count upon if she did dance around my shoes.

When I woke up I wished for one to bring you close to me,

Then as I sat out in the sun she sought to land upon my knee.

Now my eyes pool silver rain as I look down to greet 

A splendid butterfly ballet all spritely around my feet.

We don't always see what or who is around us in our every day pursuits or take the time to realise just how beautiful and important every being we are connected to is. How wonderful to know this presence even though it may not be in our immediate gaze.