All that I see.

All that I see. 

Another restless night I’ve been, 
Filled with things that I have seen.
Crazy thoughts or lucid dream.
Noise so loud I wake and scream.
I write it down nothing to lose.
The brightest colours and vivid hues.
Bright lights and beings visit me, 
They are just some of what I see.
And as I am brought back awake,
with buzzing nerves that start to shake.
I wonder was it all a dream, 
The lifelike things that I have seen.
The noises I heard inside my head, 
That seemed so loud there in my bed. 
Light so bright moving through, 
Not just white, red and orange too,
Green and violet and brightest blue.
Would you believe if I told you?
Sometimes swirling it will surround, 
Lands like a blanket on the ground.
But its not grounded its over me, 
Leaves me questioning my sanity.
Bathed in an ethereal glow, 
I look for light at my window.
Unsure of this blessing or a curse,
I wake to write it down in verse.
As the words come back to me, 
Of all the things that I see.
Arms hug tightly that they bind, 
The restless things there in my mind.
The pounding chest which starts to heave, 
Strange people and things up and leave.
There are beings I’ve not seen before, 
You sometimes read of in folklore.
When I awake and my limbs freeze, 
A silent image, a glimpse, a tease.
Then I awake with a start and its gone, 
where the brightest light there once shone.
More than once I’ve felt abused. 
Which left me angry and confused.
Sometimes it scares me half to death, 
And I wake fighting for my breath.
Or send it packing with a shout, 
Ask the unknown what it’s all about.
But sometimes the answer won’t come to me, 
About the things that I can see.

This image is the feminine version of the masculine I saw in a dream. It came to me and with one bright blue and a bright white Iight in his other eye came right up close to me and looked straight into mine. He looked curious about something, his head on one side. It unnerved me and I awoke, questioning and asking what that was about.  He gave me a name, I am none the wiser at this point as to why.  I felt inclined to draw the face that I saw, although I am not sure that I can do it justice my brief sketch is below. But he was almost like faerie like or elfin both in movement and stature.

The next day I saw this wonderful feminine image and was so drawn to it with the same face and now I am also curious.

Christina Smith the artist is located in Wimborne, Dorset and creates these wonderful talking sticks from cold clay and driftwood, making unique and very beautiful pieces of art. Find her on her Facebook page Ferae Naturae or via her webpage. www.craftwooddreams.com

Christina has very kindly given her permission for me to use the images for this beautiful piece of artwork to share with you.

Advertisements

The way I was.

I look like me but I’m not the same, a subtle change.
That catches me out from time to time I find it’s strange. 
Over time there’s been a subtle shift, 
I’m wondering, Do you catch my drift?
The person I was wasn’t built to last.
I look back at her now she’s in the past.
There’s a glimmer sometimes of who she was. 
And I think of her fondly just because.
Way back then she was so naive. 
Who she trusted and chose to believe.
Lessons learned the hard way.
They had their fun, yet continued to play.
Others may take it in their stride. 
There’s fight or flight, or run and hide.
I had no choice I was made to run.
Not sure of the person I was to become.
Spent such a long time wracked with pain, 
Realising my loss had been their gain.
She thought they might just see her as weak.
Can’t quite cope with cruel words they speak.
Situations that put her to the test.
To fix them all she did her best.
When her best wasn’t good enough. 
Was when things started to get rough.
The old me used to be so jolly, 
But the past has left me melancholy.
There once was a time I’d just get drunk, 
Lighten the mood get rid of the junk. 
Realising that I couldn’t keep the pace.
Beat a hasty retreat to save face.
Wouldn’t join their club, didn’t have the fee.
That wasn’t the person I was meant to be.
Life carries on we will get by, 
Try as I do I still can’t touch the sky.
So far away and out of reach it looks so near,
But I can see it from standing here. 
There are sometimes I think of death,
But then I always catch my breath.
Some days it gets me I feel the fear.
It is there still bright and clear. 
There are moments in time that I can touch.
And others when it just seems too much. 
When sadness overtakes it all, 
Did I set myself up for a fall?
Queen of the castle will I be crowned?
Over my kingdom all around.
The chances to fulfil my dreams, 
Are often such a way off, or so it seems.
Before you walk you must learn to crawl.
Wondering will I ever be standing tall? 
I note down the things I’d like the most, 
Have I missed the party or am I the host?
So many metaphors in my mind.
Have to silence the noise it’s too unkind.
The doubts that linger in my head, 
When I am tired and filled with dread.
One negative thought will wheedle its way, 
Like spirochetes which sit and stay.
Morphing again into something new, 
Attacking just the unlucky few.
They get into the blood and make you sick, 
Before you know it it happens so quick.
Maybe someone will throw me a rope.
But for now there’s always hope.
Depression of such magnitude. 
Pardon me I’m not being rude.
Withdrawn to myself I shut me away, 
Overthinking it all night and day.
But just when I think I’m ready to drop.
A brief respite willing it to stop.
It’s not so easy to be positive.
When this is how you’ve had to live.
Now I try to think thoughts so pure, 
To see if it helps but I’m not sure.
Some of the experts highly rate 
To quiet be calm and meditate.
But I’m not calm as there’s constant noise, 
When Girls will be girls and Boys will be boys.
So as I grow up and begin to age, 
I thought I’d cleanse my space with sage. 
Herbal infusions take me from the brink, 
And lavender to help me think.
To ease the mind and bring clarity. 
Open my eyes and help me see.
Rising early morning I see the sun,
The change in me again has begun.
So rather than leave me vexed, 
I’ll embrace the me that I’ll be next.
Divine intervention from above.
The new me I will learn to love.

Upon reflection.

Upon reflection, all in this life game.

I think of you so often and will never be the same.

Reflecting on the tears of joy and those of sorrow

And hoping for a sign and yet a much longer tomorrow.

Love was what you brought to us, it’s there for all to see,

That this is what you gave to all now I have clarity.

The friendships now rekindled, that once were dead and gone,

From every path of life they walked and joined us in the throng.

Flowers and written tributes, for a faithful friend

and later on we hope in time that our hearts will mend.

The feathers all around us, sent from you to say,

That you are never gone from us, for you will always stay.

Emotions up and down the tears we often cry,

Reminding us that we love you as we fought to say Goodbye.

But my dearest brother don’t worry as this is not the end.

Your message carries on here, filled with love you send.

Change is often painful as we reset the pace.

Friends will be around us, locked in our embrace.

In My Dreams Sometimes… – Part 3 I Paint.

938c6f38828e3ad9198940858d212a1d

Ever the artist, sometimes I paint
Beautiful images, starting feint.
Starting out with something raw,
Time goes slowly as I draw.
There an image starts to appear,
It may take a month or even a year.
But once it is there, there it remains,
A memory or moment it just frames.
And as more colour or depth of field,
The picture growing it starts to yield.
More of me than I thought now,
I don’t even really know how.
Put down on paper there on a page.
The hands still paint at any age.
And I can create a beautiful thing,
Ignore the telephone starting to ring.
Incorporate nature and beauty,
It is my right and not my duty.
For mind over matter is often the cure,
Medicine for the soul I am sure.

By way of explanation, these three poems came about literally as I awoke from the first dream. As I wrote it, I then thought about the other dreams I often have about the things which I can do so much better in my dreams than in reality. It spurs me on at least to attempt the new things from time to time or revisit the old to see if I have made any improvement. If at least it provides encouragement to follow them now and then, then it is worthwhile to continue to dream.

Image: Morguefile

 

In My Dreams Sometimes… – Part 2 I Swim.

ed605433c9c731852c932125126176eb

This is Part 2 in the series of three poems on a theme.  The first was posted yesterday.

In my dreams I sometimes swim,
Not worried about falling in.
No water swallowed or in my ears,
I dive under have faced my fears.
The perfect line, I’ve learned the strokes,
Just like some of the other folks.
No saltwater taken to drink,
Jumped right in, didn’t stop to think.
Graceful movements from A to B,
No concern of drowning at sea.
As I know I’m on the right course,
No one to answer to, no recourse.
On the horizon I set my track,
Once out there’s no turning back.
No worry that I’m out of my depth,
As I swim the length and breadth.
Strength and courage spurs me on,
I turn around begin my return.
I float in the water I look at the sky,
Not what I thought I’m my minds eye.

Image: Morguefile

In My Dreams Sometimes… Part 1 I Dance.

d39f8c4c17a1a8f332b333bd3fee1caf

This is the first of a three part series of poems on a theme. I wrote them all together as verses, however it seemed a little long so I thought why not make them into 3 parts.

In my dreams I sometimes dance,
As I would if I’d had the chance.
Standing around they begin to laugh,
No chance for me to choreograph.
It is my turn, I begin to stand.
No one there to take my hand.
So what happens if during it all,
A wrong turn I drop or fall?
As I spin my world around and round,
A moments’ freedom that I’ve found.
Upon my axis, steps I learn,
Acceptance is what I yearn.
The first audition, I take the stage.
This can be fun at any age.
My limits show in this performance,
As though life depends on it, I dance.
My efforts rewarded with a frown,
As though I am some sort of clown.
My inexperience will always show,
To professionals in the know.
But one is out there standing still,
Smiling back and enjoying the thrill.
He sees in me what I thought I could,
It didn’t really matter if I should.
I dance the bar and learned the steps,
It seems I should have no regrets.
He turns to me and begins to say,
You took a chance didn’t throw it away.
You danced your heart out, your own take.
In your own way and you weren’t a fake.
Although applause are barely audible,
I find your efforts were laudable.
There’s something there, you’re a natural
But this was a dream, it’s not factual.

Image: Morguefile

Advice to the Free Spirit

 

Advice to the Free Spirit.

While you are being a free spirit,

Take a moment to think of the ones that are left behind.

The ones who will take care of things in an emergency,

The ones who will bring you home if it ends suddenly.

Make some arrangements so that they know

What you would have wanted,

If they are doing the right thing,

Or where to find the important things.

Save a little to provide some security,

To cover the cost of a bad decision, or an accident.

Share with them more than just your fun,

Let them know when you are fulfilling your dreams,

Or chasing new ones.

For it will help them in their grief

To know that you were happy,

Loved and cared for,

Had friends in your heart and at your side,

Who will share your last moments.

That you did not die sad or lonely.

Whilst you are being a free spirit,

Remember them and tell them they are loved too.

That you aren’t running away,

But that you are just chasing your dreams,

Living the best life that you can.