“Our boys deserve to become men Not casualty numbers soon forgotten”
War: a bloody impasse between
Sense and nonsense
Normal rules no longer apply.
As planes fly overhead
Men lie wounded and dead.
Would that another way were possible
Of peaceful compromise, of entente-cordiale
Between people who are not so different after all!
Our boys deserve to become men
Not casualty numbers soon forgotten
In the everyday chaos of battle.
Let them create future memories now
In the safety and peace of tolerance and love.
Peace: New life springs forth from the tears
Of the Earth
For gentleness and patience heal all wounds.
Resilient shoots emerge after the ravages of fire
In this benevolent field of hope.
Love soothes all anger. Love eases all pain.
Hatred and fear will not take root here
For it takes joy to create such a beautiful tapestry
A binding together of all peoples in peaceful accord.
And it takes understanding to nourish it. Amen.
Lying here, blissful and serene Tranquil as a rose petal Floating downstream. Gently swayed, Its essence conveyed to the waters: As in a dream. Its wistful beauty reflected in a cloudless sky. Its languid joy a Contented sigh.
Stretching its form Each cell drenched in light. Twirling and pausing, Bobbing and floating. Each moment: sheer delight. Cast adrift, free it basks in simply being A rose petal floating downstream.
Here is a beautiful poem about the wonder and joy of new life. If it sings to you, please Like and Share it with others. Much love, Anita.
Soft silken raindrops Alight on my soul As the dance of life begins And you curl around my core. In the world, yet scarcely, Carried here on Angels’ wings Tenderly entwined are we Through life’s ecstatic symphony. Sweetest of teardrops Fall on your gaze As my heart implodes with love At your tiny embrace. In the world, so bravely, Brought here by God’s grace. My restless heart no longer aches As in drowsy contentment I vow to love and protect you Each step of the way.
Good morning everyone! I was sitting in my sun-room this morning looking at the meadow opposite our home. The colours were glorious: yellows and greens, dotted with pinks and blues and every colour in between! Swallows swooped about amidst this idyllic scene, seemingly for the sheer pleasure of flying. The puffy white clouds against a backdrop of the bluest sky were pushed off stage-right by an insistent wind while stage-left, the next glorious scene arrived. It was truly mesmerising and I felt so blessed to live in such a healing place. We live on the edge of a large town, but it can seem as if we are fully in the countryside here on days such as these (in fact, every day). This is a poem I wrote for summer solstice last week—better late than never.