Tag Archives: mentality

Home Is A Diving Board

diving board

Trapped between the sound of splashing and touching water

Wearing fanfares to allay fear

Fostering first finishes from ticks glimmering

They say…

Stand within ear shot of the gun to know your target

Is clapping the fruit of the harvest?

Drown, and become a compass from a floating carcass.

Another one who did the math only to make up the numbers

Saddled with sackcloth, shame and numbness

Straddling feint margins, seeking waves as markers.

Struggling to strum the melody of the barking.

Seeking to beat this with heartstrings.

A war-torn dome is only enlightened by stillness.

Choose your weapon before tumbleweed kills you.

Strike with every breath, release gold or reach home.

Time the trapeze, then reach and step.

Let your soul know this was a good body to rent.

 

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Down Day

Image result for feeling down

 

They say men are made from stuff women aren’t.

Stronger hands, harder hearts

You can take a beating and dare not flinch

The measure of man’s tiers found in grit not ink.

 

He’s made of wildest dreams and infinite schemes

A man is built to last.

He can plot a tree and chop down forests.

Just women’s ages he dare not ask.

 

A man should have money, a man should have style.

A man commands the stage.

Men have no fear, knows lust not love.

Being a MAN is all the rage.

 

So why do good ones fall and bad ones rise?

Is it safe to even ask?

Is it weak to cry, will he be despised?

Is it wise to be about that?

 

I’m drowning in supposed to be.

What I’m not has been my yoke.

If I’m a man or so I claim will my man card be revoked?

 

I guess I’ll hang from ropes you beat me with.

My failures and dented pride.

When love is lost we count the cost.

No hope and suicide.

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1434

Some days, the world closes in around me.

For minutes at a time, the earth shakes as though a thousand dormant volcanoes have erupted in unison.

I chase after my breaths like a 5-year-old with bubbles on a breezy afternoon.

I am deaf to the beat of my heart.

The sun orbits the earth before I come around to the understanding of my plight.

I am at war with my shadow.

Afraid of fading from view, I like stringing sentences like tennis rackets.

Mantras slip through my fingers like perfect ex’s.

Questioning supposed recklessness I break fast.

Peace is a stranger that refuses to converse.

I silence the alarm despite being raised by a nurse.

Always an episode instead of a series.

The script seems more powerful every time.

Maybe this is what I deserve.

Payback for the other side of me.

Maybe it’s the design for me

Anxiety.

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Blooming Marvellous

This week has been an inspiring one, full of themes and quotes that I could build poetry from. My favourite quote has been “Follow the contour of the road”.

The context was a driving lesson where my mind was over-thinking and I took a straight line through a couple of lanes.

Many times we embark on a path only to crash or come to a dead end because we want it to be a straight line. If we want to go into a different room of our house we have to turn a corner at some point.

It’s like life is a colouring book given to us with every colour Crayola could offer, yet we choose one and use it on every page. Not only that, when that colour runs out we try to re-create that colour and feel stressed because the other colours aren’t it. Let your beach scenes be just that!

For me following the contour of the road, like my perception of my writing, acknowledges that which is behind me whilst concentrating on that ahead.

I was moved to anger and sadness having recently learned, through a documentary, that my surname was given by British slave masters in Jamaica. That said, Positive Reflection has sandwiched the joy of my birthday and other accomplishments the last 7 days.

Confession time…I rarely use the word happy in conversations about myself. Perhaps it is a blessing and a curse at times that like my father, I’m a perfectionist at heart. Yet from passing my driving theory test to the surprises from my wife, my side of my family, and even from my team at work have made feel happy. I cried tears of joy a few times on my birthday, having felt a forceful combination of joy and contentment. I was happy.

A brownie cake baked by one of my team.

A brownie cake baked by one of my team.

Maybe you’ve lived your whole life to the fullest using every part of your brain’s capacity, or maybe like me, you’re steadily realising where you’re at and beginning to make it better than it’s ever been.

The words Attitude and Commitment sum up my last 12 months and will be the backbone of the next 12, and the 12 beyond that. I left 32 knowing with an outline of the scenes I want to add colour to throughout my 33rd year.  Perhaps the biggest challenge and change in this part of my life is committing to commitment.

If it helps, write down the new places you’ve been, things you’ve done that you didn’t do before. You might realise very quickly how much you have lived, learned or even want to do!

I love rhythm, find yours and Smile!

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5 day poetry challenge Day 3 – The Dawn

White sands fell between them

The morning tide kissed their foreheads

New palms bowed and curtsey in turn

Clouds yawned for the first time as the sky opened its eyes

The wind smiled like a new-born after its first feed

Time had walked the shortest distance from their wrist to their hands

Steady as the drizzle of summer rain, they breathed

Whispers tiptoed from their lips into the oxygen

Like hydrogen they ignited as understanding embraced

Good Morning,

Good morning to love said the flame

Finding their soul frequency retinas roared

Detonated heart beats battling soon soothed to an echo

Atlas had become compass in a blink

Yet this was Eden and it would be human to think

So they admired

The apple of their eye was a fruit of their spirit

They’d given lives to acquire the rights to the orchard

Merely breathing was deemed eating of the moment and

Building a city of roses required appetite so apple blossom became staple diet

Welcome,

Welcome to life said the Middle Tree

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5 day Poetry Challenge – Day 1: E.O.W

I was nominated by another poet via Facebook to post a poem each day for 5 days. This poem could be freshly written or something that hadn’t been posted before. I’ve opted for faith in the poems I’ve had less contact with since they’ve been written.

Fighting in the ring of denial

Boxed in

Boxing truth

Looking for that knockout blow

Jabbing

Moving in white lies

Lines

But I can never avoid the speed of reason

The power of logic comes home to roost on my chin

If truth can set you free

Then my mind is housed in glass doomed to crack and shatter

What is the purpose of fighting truth when revelation is a redeeming knowledge served on a platter for you to add to your arsenal

Wisdom is an acquaintance of knowledge

An acquisition that will not arrive horse drawn.

Wisdom and knowledge are the bridge with railings we deploy to ensure we cross through situations safely

Without these tools we crash into trouble at breakneck speed

Just as your five fruit a day

We need these

To begin

At the end of the weak

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Tulips

tulips

They stare down from the bridge like a speed trap

Ill-fated like candles on a heat map

Two face that six deep till their eaves drop

Speak war ‘til they detox

The air they’re breeding? I need that

Photo finishes lose their gloss, so forward thinking I read back.

Embracing these ventilations with open windows

We can christen or crescendo until the wind has lost our taste

If giving is charity, does a casket rest the case?

Is time well spent when interest cools?

Does time erase? Does time even have tools?

Are unheard sentiments simply sediment.

If pretty flowers must die, are they worth your remembrance?

Will you choose to bury them?

If principles are the rule, is perception the real measurement?

Our bouquet pendulums have greater range than a peregrine

What’s your addendum?

Is it the copy of your recipe or the flavour of your beef?

Every decision we make writes our story

Is yours a magazine?

Is it live and let die or do we force some to breathe?

It seems some can’t believe that pretty flowers… must die

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