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Birth

Mind is freed of personality, soul is lifted out of eternity. You stumble and fall crawl into a ball the world sways and falls. A hand firm and light lifts you up and guides you through the night. As you stumble  it tumbles out of you they grumble and mumble and drag you out of it. 

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birth

Children

These two poems I think pair up well together.  The first written to celebrate the birth of our first grandchild five years ago, the second written last year after a visit and time spent with him and his two brothers.

Nathaniel's Villanelle

Now welcome into this world little one.

You know no-one, nothing yet,

Yet from Him who knows all you come.

 

Your father, your mother als...

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Father

entry picture

You ask if I believe in God...
How can I not?

To deny my Father
means I leave my existence
to some 30 year old predator
who impregnated a girl half his age
and left her to raise their child
in the wilderness, among wolves 
that feed on loneliness and despair.

Without my Father, I would never know
that after suffering comes deliverance,
pain leads to compassion,
forgiveness breaks b...

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The choice 

entry picture

Translation of my Arabic Poem (“The Choice”) 

Who, in the World, chooses his birth? 
Who chooses his family and children? 
Who chooses his fate and country? 
Who chooses the time to go to heaven? 

But it is possible to choose our day 
To sincerely care about family and work 
This will be the first right step to our future 
To achieve our goals while we're alive 

Your name and countr...

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The day I met you

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The day I met you


My soul awoke;

a sound of crying so joyous I could cry myself
The thought of opening my eyes

without the sound this little life I created would be just as scary as it was

when she had opened hers in the first

moments of life 
She lit up my night sky
She came to me with golden hair
The color people would dye to have
For her, I'd die a million times to have also
...

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birthchild babyDaughtermotherhood

A new C word

Now there's a new C word in town 

10 months in, the word CURED blasts free

In the same chair, same room by the same careful man 

Where we heard that other C word everyone fears

This one is C for celebration 

Not C for Christ no, can't believe it

A new day to celebrate through the onward years

A day as special as a birth

The C pebble dropped and happiness ripples spread and ...

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birthdrainedhappinesshopejoylightnessstars

They say..

They say 5 a day and a number of vaccines are what you need to be healthy                          

They say that cancer can't be cured and that a plant should be outlawed, but what's the reality

They say we need to go to war but we've heard it all before, and it's not how it should be            

They say we need to vote so get in line, as if we have a choice this time, they act like we'...

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Bittersweet

We enter this world on days when life is slightly kinder

Pushed by our family in our pushchair, 

we are content.

As we've grown, we are given happiness as a gift

but

also

We are given happiness with gifts, 

the sweetness of our mother's kiss, 

the softness of a kitten

We were unaware of the concept of age

We gave love willingly, 

our first kiss being messy and conf...

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THE BABIES

The babies keep coming

coming

into the world

petals opening disgorging

disgorging.

Mouths to feed

feeding feeding

milk flowing.

They pile up

statistics

scream and kick

another matter of pride

to show off.

Tick one more box

box ticked move on

over the horizon the

petals are pulsing

and absorbing

disgorging.

The world blinks and is missed

w...

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birthdeath

The Butterfly Effect

I lay here cradling my mosaic heart, untwinned in your palms. My naked body and mind no longer intertwined, A fated dualistic death. I gave myself to you unwittingly, unknowingly, punishingly... Sensual, seductive emotions ravenously race through my every pore, One last butterfly kiss, wanting evermore. My heart decadently dances with perpetual palpitation...

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birthdeathhopelifelostLove

The End but not the Means

Bright blue veins stretch a map across her belly,

giving no indication what’s happening underground.

Her hand cups the full-moon, the cusp of new life;

the woman dreams as cells are dividing, beginning.

 

A sudden panic of white coats round a monitor,

two on the phone, the others inflated with facts.

The woman no longer exists, she’s just a vessel grown in size

w...

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