From the Heart
Treading of footsteps throughout my mind.
Of days gone past I should have been kind.
Rose petals falling, loving words never said.
Lone flowers unplanted, a void in my head.
Vacant spaces, channels not making sense.
Vast chasms of darkness, held in suspense.
Retracing my steps, I paint these halls bright.
With glorious blooms, I put my wrongs right.
I’m sort of mystified as to where my soul is at this very moment, is it in its entirety with me, or is a part of me or somewhere else completely.
I’m also bewildered as to why am I searching to find myself in a spiritual form, if I actually only exist for this moment in time here and now.
I’m baffled by feelings that I am an immense being, that I experience myself in dreams and wonder if I continue to exist somewhere outside of myself.
I’m bemused to how much time and effort goes into this journey, puzzled by my determination to understand the intricate maze of the universe.
I’m confused by the enormity of my search and perplexed because in all probability I won’t ever discover the answers here as the physical me.
I love to philosophise on the meaning of it all, the wonders of the universe and what IT is really all about. Have you got any nearer to the answers?
My son is a fantastic writer but he doesn’t write, I’m perplexed. I don’t get it, he’s a natural wordsmith and orator with a fabulous understanding of English language but does not have enough belief in himself.
I would die to be able to write like him, well you know what I mean. I wouldn’t die as I need to be his mum but you will get my drift I’m sure.
I write quite simply, I don’t use long words because I don’t have many but I think I get my point across. I am so immensely proud of my son and his ability to use words to conjure up imagery, he’s ability to debate and get his point across, his kindness and respectfulness in communications.
I’m not biased, well maybe slightly but he is a fabulous writer and I’ll say it again I’m perplexed. Amongst other things, he writes short stories and when pushed he might blog. Okay, he uses the odd expletive but not to much to put you off.
Today he wrote a story called Collection on WP. I would be so grateful if you would take a look, he needs some followers to encourage him -https://sovietcola.wordpress.com/2016/09/14/collections/
https://sovietcola.wordpress.com
Thank you lovely people 🙂
You can’t see it on the outside, apart from I’m not slim.
The changes go much deeper, as they’re radical within.
What was hard has softened, with colours changing too.
I’ve greens, blues and purples now, with indigo the blue.
The changes were quite gradual, a lifetime here to make.
But if you stand me side by side, you’ll see I’m not a fake.
The younger me was selfish, demanded love and care.
Could not see her purpose here, was to learn to share.
So now I’m making up the time, loving deeply as I go.
Knowing my days are numbered, I’ve charity to show.
While sitting in the silence, I’m listening to my breath.
All becomes much clearer, I’m with myself at best.
I focus on the in breath, before I let it gently leave.
I know that I’m connected, it’s something I believe.
Sitting in the power now, reaching higher planes.
I find myself within myself, I have returned again.
Lessons of eternity, stored somewhere in my heart.
Power of self you see, I’ve been here from the start.
The multiple aspects of me, take stillness to understand.
Some are in the present, but some in another land.
I’m body, mind and spirit, the complexity of me.
I fit together perfectly, if I’m in this space you see.
Clang, clang, clang went the trolly
Ring, ring, ring went the bell
Zing, zing, zing went my heartstrings……..
Hear this song and I’m a child again watching musicals on the TV with my mum and sister, believing that anything was possible in the world. I used to dream of being an actress like Judy Garland and making the most spectacular musicals. I would wear the most glorious costumes and sing and dance to my hearts content.
The truth is I can’t sing a note, have two left feet when it comes to dancing and an apple shape figure, that does not work with the tight waisted dresses of my dreams. But those musicals I was brought up on gave me dreams, hopes and a belief that things will always turn out okay in the end.
A Judy Garland musical or song can transport me back to that front room of my childhood where happiness lived. A room, safe and warm where my sister and I knew we were loved more than anything in the world. Where money was not as important as the type of person you were, how kindness shone brighter than any material object and food made with love cured you of any ills.
I wonder sometimes, having such a loving childhood what my own son will remember of his. Could I possibly have inspired him a fraction as much as my mother inspired me, I don’t think so but I hope I have given him some of his beautiful qualities.
Our childhoods mould and shape us into the people we are now, not all are easy and ours certainly wasn’t. But we didn’t always see the difficulties, experience the worries of our mother or count the pennies. Our mother made sure that we knew we were loved, she would walk over hot coals for us and we would always be protected. We left home safe in the knowledge we could always return and there would always be love waiting.
Our childhood home is gone now, my sister and I cleared it together after mum passed away. We brought some the memories with us in the possessions we split between us, precious memories including a Judy Garland scrapbook. Another family lives there now, living different lives in a different era. There is however laughter and love in those walls which I’m sure that anyone who lives there will benefit from and as I said I can go back there anytime I want by just playing a song.
In responce to The Daily Prompt – Zing
http://youtu.be/Ln3sNwccHxI – this video probably doesn’t work, I will have to learn how to upload!
We all began from a place of birth, sometimes a loving and nurturing environment and at other times more difficult. It’s not where you began that matters so much, but how far you can reach, growing into the world and adding your own individual beauty.
~ Liza
A butterfly flew in the door, I knew it was my mum.
A visit dancing through, with lots of love and fun.
It’s good to see her flying now, no longer in her chair.
I’m happy that she’s healthy, since stepping over there.
~
Sometimes she’s a feather, so very light and bright.
She floats on air and drops on me, not a bird in sight.
It’s usually to tell me, that I’m heading the right way.
It’s how she keeps in contact, since she went away.
~
In winter she’s a robin, with breast of brightest red.
She sits upon the woodpile, sings while I’m in bed.
She’ll always come to see me, I know that to be true.
Until one day, I step behind, that same doorway too.
~
You outshine me always love,
no question that it’s true.
If only I was as good and kind,
well, in comparison to you.
It would take me an eternity,
to glow as bright my love.
Collecting stars along the way,
as they explode above.
My eclipse I love you,
you see I always will,
If you smother me in darkness dear,
I will love you still.
In a magic moment, I found what it was to love.
I did not find it in a book or in the skies above.
I found it the memories, the ones that I hold dear.
If only I had know back then, what today is clear.
Love is not so obvious, it takes you by surprise.
Returns as you are unaware, comes back in disguise.
It creeps up when your sleeping, or in another land
Then finally you feel it’s pull and you understand
lizalizaskysaregrey 