A collection of thoughts: not a poem really, more a collection of statements.

The ugly duckling thought it was ugly because it didn't know it was a swan.

It seems that those who shine brightest, are surrounded by darkness.

Sometimes this world is too confined for them to breathe.

They cough and splutter through treacle, with grit in their shoes.

There are a million faces looking back at me in hope and despair.

Each one turned towards the sun that makes and breaks their world.

The storm clouds gather, rolling across the sky in grey foreboding.

A challenge to our comfort as we choke back the taste of waiting.

I've heard there's a God up there who holds us as we breathe.

My heart breaks a thousand times a day at the absence we are feeling.

The child in me senses I belong nowhere on this earth.

But the adult walks through brambles and thickets, knowing the dead end is an illusion.

27/8/10

[Last line of 2nd verse partially inspired by a line in the film "Amazing Grace".

The above is inspired by beautiful people I have or have had the honour to know or know of and recent events in Haiti and Pakistan, as well as God's love in the midst of chaos.]

Words

I want to say something

But I'm scared to open my mouth,

I don't know what will come out:

Black or White.

Will I harm or heal with my words,

Will you hear what I say,

Or another configuration

Of these words that tumble out?

Will I say what I mean,

Or something else?

Will you filter it through your own glasses,

That distort and disfigure my thoughts?

How do I know if we'll meet,

Or graze each other in passing?

It seems easier to stand still,

Not talking.

But the words tumble out

From some strange place inside

That INSISTS on being heard,

Regardless of the cost.

And so I say it all

While saying nothing,

Playing hide-and-seek with you,

While I'm choking.

8/5/10

Jail

Inside my ribs it aches without you.

Or it would, if I hadn't encased my heart with glass

So that my body could carry on:

Perfectly isolating and containing the problem,

So that I would continue smoothly,

Like a glass lake on a still day.

Now I battle within, asking myself,

Is this the end of the poem?

Do I carry on walking away?

Why would anyone open the gates,

Knowing poison would flow through the streets?

But is living under siege, living at all?

If you cut off supplies, the people will die,

My body needs oxygen to live.

But facts remain facts,

You are still far from me,

Even, if I shatter that glass.

25/4/10

Long Sad Day

Sadness creeps in like a storm drenched dog,
An oil slick slipping silently over my heart.
It engulfs, seals and bides;
It is unmoving, soul-less and absolute.

It is no dead weight, no extreme of emotion;
Just a sad day that forgot to go away.
It rumbles and niggles and stays,
Like a ripple on a calm day.

[This is from about 2 years ago.]