Shock of the stepping stones,
no solid path to follow.
Stumble in the water
to reach your goal
or give up
and only view from
a distance,
to forever wonder
what it is
others saw.
Fiction and poetry writing, recapturing the muse.
Shock of the stepping stones,
no solid path to follow.
Stumble in the water
to reach your goal
or give up
and only view from
a distance,
to forever wonder
what it is
others saw.
Tie a ribbon of memory
in a glen hidden,
it will preserve
all I have of you.
It will make you
live again.
I am the guardian of the Glen
(of five minutes)
all who wish to pass
must pay with strokes
and head rubs.
Yes, yes like that
(pant, pant).
Okay, next.
Hidden Glen
nestled in the forest
embraced in protection
so nature can reign,
but humans can visit
and respect
the peace
and complete
state of being
finding this land brings.
A tree trunk seat
pierced with pennies,
so old they’ve begun
to meld into the wood.
Because no one
carries cash anymore
and so the throne
will remain
incomplete.
Leaf corpse already gone
enters the current
of a life-giving stream,
its body pulled on a journey
from the waterfall
to the sea.
It follows the force
and by-passes rocks,
floating along to a new
resting place
it could never
imagine in life.
The shock of icy cold
water touching your fragile
everything
reminds you nature
is not your friend,
it does not know you,
accommodate you,
it just is,
and you need to adjust
or get out of the way.
Bottle up this feeling of serenity
and let your soul be revived
to unearth your stories,
your truths
your everything
that needs to be remembered,
that others need to know.
Celebrating five years of marriage
and eight as a couple,
trying to remember what
happiness was before
and knowing it didn’t compare.
People say relationships are hard
and yes at times that’s true,
but not for one moment
have I stopped loving this man
regretted our time together
or wished him gone.
He amplifies my confidence,
my strength, my reason
and I long to always
inspire him the same way.
Here’s to many years more,
my husband,
my world,
my muse.
A wider, more elaborate path
allowing to view more,
feel more
experience the peace
of your favourite place
even though you’ve both changed,
grown,
let others in that altered you.
Nostalgia drifts in the air,
sprays your skin with water’s backlash
but revives you in your future.
You are different
this place is not your saviour,
you have another,
but you will always remember,
appreciate,
return.