So many people ride the wave carried by the breeze that life blows by them… Why float along when you could be the fan for a flame?
plank
You see, it’s neither wooden plank or brick that builds a home. Instead it is the happy hands. It is a mortar of love & patience; willing sacrifice & care for each other that strengthens our walls. They may knock down our buildings; but they’ll never destroy our home.
bored
There was an art to being bored she reckoned. Those many hours of childhood had lent power to imagination and had taught her how to cope with one’s self. At what point had boredom become an enemy of the world to be fought with the brandishing of screens?
beard
He tried to disguise himself by growing a beard but he couldn’t disguise his eyes nor all that they had seen…
bear
bare
She felt bare as she sat in front of the panel, her heart and her head at war. Should she edit her truth with a ctrl+alt+delete or follow the letter of the law?
a mobile generation
A mobile world,
a mobile phone
a mobile life we seek to lead-
moving, travelling, chasing some need
As Generation Y
we find ourselves
hunting for a home,
searching the New Territory; an internet drone.
Instagram, snapchat, facebook, tweet
“This food looks great…
Let’s take a pic before we eat”
Some break off, “Slow down” they warn
Getting smaller and smaller
as the connections get shorn-
But how to return to a less mobile life
Perhaps more steady,
perhaps with less strife?
How to be less available
to a world demanding more-
More time, money, thought consumption
it outsources many a chore
whilst trading in for new ones as we
tap, chat, send and reply
To an message we’re late for
that’s only just come by.
Mobility is wonderful,
it is freeing indeed
but just ensure we’re not the ones
trapped in with created need.
The Year Long Patient
Will held my hand with his own;
I could feel the calloused skin which turned dirt for years-
Growing a living out of the earth
Finding water where there was no rain,
Making shelter where there was all sun.
He turned my ear with his sighs;
I remember him stumbling over the phone buttons
As he asked me to call his wife
To tell her the truth of his health,
That he’d likely not make it home with his life.
He caught my gaze with his eyes;
Eyes that had been taped shut through
Procedure after procedure after procedure –
Eyes that had blinked through
Seven hundred and thirty tea times on the ward,
Eyes that had seen through
Over a thousand changes of nursing shifts.
Will shared his own hopes;
Telling us that he was still there –
Trying to fight as hard as he could,
That we should leave no avenue unexplored,
No options unconsidered – a battler til the last
He held on that day – when all hope was crumbling away
As his family kept vigil by his side
Two days later he did know it was his time to go
And he left us with an ache in our heart.
Fool’s Gold
She was standing before a crowd of faces
which had Once seemed to smile
but the closer she came
she came to realise that their eyes were vacant-
their heart and soul had taken leave.
That of all the people who had responded to her
call to “Come on board!” her one prized ship
to seek a Great Adventure,
there were only a few faithful to form a crew she might
truly rely on.
She grimaced but shrugged-
for Fool’s Gold has little Worth.
Run down by the black dog
The black dog came and brought her down
It tore down all the wall
She still looked bright up til the day
We didn’t see her fall
But just because it wasn’t seen
It didn’t stop the happening,
the black dog ran and ran its race
so Hope would seem unraveling.
Oh what we’d do or what we’d say
If only we had it another way…
We’d put the dog down if we could
But that’s not how it can go
Maybe if we’d all stop to sit
The face of it would show.
We couldn’t catch her as she slipped
between our ignorance and her pain-
But maybe we might bring hope to life
by learning how to love one another over and over again.
In tribute of a young doctor who committed suicide in the last week.
fortondoando pianississimo 