Mr Stokes

Hi All, 

Today's poem is written for someone I admire greatly. I tease him terribly, but I think he is probably used to that by now… at least I hope so. Mr Micheal Stokes is a brilliant photographer who pushes boundaries and ignores his critics. His artistic interpretation and admiration of the naked form is second to none and I never cease to tire of perusing the images he captures through his camera. He is an artist much like myself. Out there, not deterred by others who would seek to dismiss or discredit our works. I push emotional boundaries and he visual ones. 

So Mr Stokes, in honour of your works and continued dedication me smile at the beauty through your lens. I dedicate this small poem to you. Keep inspiring others through your work and don't forget that second selfie. ;) @stokes_photo

Mr Stokes

Deep into his lens they glance

Statuesque in their frozen stance

Masculine moulds this artists goal 

Beauty beyond mere mortal souls

Icons chiseled from toil and sweat

Captivating images we can’t forget

These God like idols to humanity

Not bound by the limits of society

Men of men who’s poise invokes

Each stilled in time by Mr Stokes

By Helen Stallard

November 25, 2015

Josh

Good Morning, 
I have written and re-written this piece many times and at last I have encapsulated my son Joshua. 
This is for you Josh. 

Josh

A cunning smile breaks his face

His dark eyebrow slowly rises

This cheeky chap of my demise

The prankster of surprises

A quiet side hidden away

Your secret place to dwell

It draws them in, captivates

Puts all under your spell

Haunting us, enchanting all

He can test my best resolve

In one quick quip or memory

Maternal barriers do dissolve

Now a man of level mind

From a child I raised alone

You fill my heart with pride

My Son, now man, full grown 

By Helen Stallard
November 23, 2014.

Two

Morning All, 
The following is a tribute to that moment when two people share the most intimate and explosive of moments. A slight play on words here, but I think you will get my meaning. 

Two

Two hearts, one movement 

One motion, two souls

One heartbeat, two seconds

Two moments, one goal

One explosion, two bodies

Two moans, one gasp

Two chuckles, one embrace

One love, two collapse

By Helen Stallard

November 22, 2014

Bitter Seeds

Good Evening, 
I have been so very lax with my blog of late. 
So to make amends I share with you something I have mused over for some time now. A poem I wrote to try to explain why I think we humans harbour and revisit painful memories that we have experienced through others. I personally use them to make me stronger and as a beacon to not inflict such pain on others. 

Bitter Seeds

After the actions those words flow

To deep inside wherein they grow

To tangled weed with twisted stalk

Poisoned words each time you talk

Bitter growth from deep inside

Splits your body-bursts your sides

Out it spews that angered seed

Choking you as vengeance bleeds

Slumped into that wounded heap

Toxic spawn you choose to keep

Grasping at this cruelest past 

Gardening you to make it last

To wallow in your own despair?

Or keep him lingering-beaten there?

To make you stronger day by day

For keeping bitter weeds at bay

By Helen Stallard

November 21, 2014