Dusty Mote

Good Evening, 

I sat today quite quietly and while deep in thought my eyes were drawn to the dust motes floating in the sunbeam that spilled through my window. It was such a lovely sight, that I felt compelled to write about. Some moments are a perfect vision of calm, but look closer and there is always movement. 

Dusty Motes

The dust motes flit carelessly in this slanted beam

Dancing with one another, the very merriest of jigs

Warming them selves like fae in the mornings light

Brief and joyous they celebrate the warming ray

Each whispering secret tales to the other in passing

Heated they rise then fall, then prance once again

Peering, embracing and then bewitched by it

Embracing this golden glow of luminous essence

Careless in their pursuit of this temperate life source

As airy celestial creatures sent to frolic as one

To dematerialise before my blinking eyes

As the clouds seize there fun and steal it away. 

By Helen Stallard

21 July, 2014.

The Cleansing

Good Morning All, 
I was up very early this morning due to the intense heat here and as an electrical storm hit I observed and wrote what dawned directly after it. It was a beautiful scene and I hope I have done it justice. 

The Cleansing

After the storm, the ions fly

Blueness penetrates your eye

The quiet once she has passed

Such beauty now will not last

In vivid colours true and bold

A memory so pure to hold

Part of life restored and washed

The filth refined, spent, squashed

Freshness fills once dead a sense

My patience here is recompense

One voyeur of revitalised birth

As mother nature cleans her earth.

By Helen Stallard

20 July, 2014.

Atmospheric

Good Afternoon, 

I wrote this poem earlier today and as I am in a reflective moment in my life, I share this heart broken memory with you. 

Atmospheric

Howling visceral winds, torment… screaming into the tunnel of my breaking love.

Lashing, saturating rains, sheets of aqua cry down to the portal of my soul.

Black ice, spears my beat-less heart, before it shatters before your you.

By Helen Stallard

19 July, 2014.

Learned

Good Morning Again,

Another poem born of lesson. We are all walking our paths, sometimes they seem harder than other's routes. Walk them we must though. However, to walk them is one thing, but to gain from the hardness of your chosen route. Well that is to know true life.  

Learned

The paths we tread, 

While blind or not. 

Are often ones, 

We’d wish begot. 

Some stoney hard, 

Felt underfoot. 

Others burden us, 

With darkened hood. 

Some sunnier tracks, 

Upon which we thrive. 

Are like life veins, 

keeping us alive. 

It is here we flourish, 

Love and grow. 

How we strengthen, 

To press onwards so.

Those dusty ones, 

Leave us unclean.

But protect us onwards, 

With hardened screen. 

Each route staggered, 

Our guide each day.

Back onto course,

To the truest way.

As we stumble, 

With what we earned.

This weight we carry, 

Are lessons learned.

By Helen Stallard
July18, 2014.

Disdainfully Yours

Good Morning, 
I hope this day will serve you all well. My absence has been duly noted and again apologies. I truly am back and I begin with a short but poignant piece. 

Disdainfully Yours

On the edge of my resolve, 
Morals crumble, break, dissolve,
Now feathered is this fuddled brain,
As one wades through her own disdain.

By Helen Stallard
July 18, 2014.

Bent Not Broken

Good Evening, 

Another free verse poem for your perusal. We all go through trials and often don't realise at the time how much we can take from them.  I wrote this for my daughter. As a warming guise when she asks that fateful question … why? 

Bent Not Broken

What doesn't break you makes you stronger. 

Rounds you into an elliptical you,

Prevents you from weakening.

All those knocks and chips create a sculpture. 

Smoothing the sharpened edges,

Teasing you into who you are. 

Each bitter trial a testament to your strengths.

A beacon to show your weaknesses,

Such aching now to shield you later.

These arduous memories will serve you.

Gifting you solace in the knowledge,

You are not broken just bent. 

By Helen Stallard

July 9, 2014. 

Alphabet Sea

Good Afternoon Again, 
My second post for the day, as playing catch up again. 
Alphabet Sea is a poem I wrote to try to explain why I write. There is nothing more complicated in it than that. I do hope my poetry inspires deep emotions in my readers and followers. 

Alphabet Sea

The words I pen as poetry, 

Are what I feel, think and see. 

There is no catch to what I scribe, 

No hidden meaning that I hide. 

I feel the words that flow from me, 

Pulling them from an alphabet sea. 

Some time that sea is calm or dark, 

Impacting the message I do impart. 

A mended heart or tale of woe, 

All parts of me and how I grow. 

Each poem invites you to feel, 

An awakening that's true and real. 

By Helen Stallard

July 5, 2014.  

Flounder

Good Afternoon, 
Firstly apologies for my absence. I am back and wish to share the following with you. 
I wrote this poem today, after chatting with Anita, who was the host to a radio show I did a small spot on. I had been invited there to speak about The Poetry Bank. Anita mentioned a moment to me where she had fluffed her words. I coined the word floundered and in that very moment, 'Flounder' was born. 
Now few of you will know Anita, but those who do will know she treads where other fear to. She has a confident couragesness about her and she has been joy to write about. 

So here is to you Anita, never stop being who you are. 

Flounder

Out of my depth I often flounder, 

Deeper in I dread to wander.

Still I venture further more, 

As newest babe on slippery floor.

As lemmings to the cliff I run, 

No thinking on what could become. 

My character can not be tamed,

Nor trapped ... caught or even named. 

A dancing spirit free and wild,

 Born of Fear and Courage's child.

By Helen Stallard

July 5, 2014.