Sunday, 25 December 2011

Maybe it will take an Angel

My love doesn't need a manger
to hold the new born sun.
My heart has known glad tidings
and that joy and peace will come.

For we can not all be shepherds,
and our voice may not be heard.
In among the haste and flurry,
of this very modern world.

No matter how long we've pondered,
this strange life and its bold decree.
I know that most are still afraid,
to be all that we could be.

So maybe it will take an angel,
to whisper gentle in our ear,
to tell us that it's okay to shine,
that it's the reason we are here.

Image: Three Angels by Susannah Bec.

Written for the Sunday Whirl using all of the words. Not great poetry, but I did my best! :-)

Wishing you all
love, peace and much joy!
- Susannah x

Sunday, 18 December 2011

Three Seconds. . .

In the three second lag
between your action
and my reaction
I saw it happen

That hint of trouble
began to surface
instigating the game
we swore we wouldn't play

This year has been one
of calm surfaces and blue sky
one in which I could believe
that luck was on our side

That you were no longer
a citizen of that dream land
a denizen of those altered states
convinced that you could fly

Feet firmly planted in the black earth
something in your eyes gave it away
and in an instant the blue sky changed
becoming purple and black like a bruise

Written for The Sunday Whirl
using all of the words.

This story just arose out of the words as if by some strange alchemy. The wordle seems to instigate that happening! - pulling tales out of nowhere and pouring them onto the page.

This is not autobiographical.

Sunday, 11 December 2011

When Love Arrives. . .

What an enigma,
this weightless joy.
These rare and rapid pulsations,
that spasm and sparkle like glass.
It is as though some part of me,
long imprisoned, has been released.
I have been made spacious by this feeling.
The elements have fallen in the perfect order.
And I, as if in the grip of some strange magic,
am racing, tumbling, laughing and breathless.
through the bleak, windblown city streets,
headlong into your strong and gentle arms.

Written for The Sunday Whirl using the words below.
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