Tag: poem

The Great Flower Show

lizaaitken


When we first plant a flower, 

our wish is that it will grow.

With nurture and love in abundance, 

it’s spirit should start to show.

Ensuring that all its emotions, 

are balanced with care that we give.

Giving it room to maneuver,

to spread itself out as it lives.

But what of the one in the wild woods,

trapped in among the weeds.

Fighting for its very existence,

an accident of blowing seeds.

This child of the flower kingdom,

born into a life full of tests.

Smothered by those that surround it,

in soil that’s not really the best.

Come the end of the season,

when it’s time for the great flower show.

Which one will receive adoration,

the one loved or struggling to grow.

Nature is full of examples, 

of tests that are lessons to me.

When I watch as that small flower struggles,

it’s not really all that I see. 

Candle – DP

lizaaitken

 

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I hold this candle up to you,

for everything you do,

the kindness and the charity, 

in your love so very true.

I would build a temple,

as a tribute to your love,

ceilings domed and golden,

reaching up to skies above.

I would name a flower,

after the beauty of your heart,

I cannot find one good enough,

I know not where to start.

So I will light this single candle,

I’ll light one every day,

to celebrate my love for you,

a love that will not decay.

Awareness

lizaaitken

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More and more now I am aware,

reclaiming what was mine.

the ego has been holding it,

but now, has come the time.

To practice an awareness,

being conscious of what I do,

I want to take life slowly now,

with focus on what is true.

The lessons in my unconscious,

I  mean to learn again,

making sure I got them right,

through this I can only gain.

When I look upon the world,

the colours and the sounds,

a beautiful picture is painted,

it is what my awareness has found.

I feel like I have been finely tuned,

and that I can finally see.

All the wonder of this world,

in which I can just be.

 

 

Visits to my Blog

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I wake up in the morning 

and I see your names again.

You’ve liked me while I’m sleeping, 

I’m so very glad you came.

It’s so lovely having followers, 

from all over the place.

Those ones that keep returning, 

it’s so good to see your face.

It’s funny how the times of day, 

brings different folk to me.

I wonder what you’ve created,

I will certainly look and see.

Now I think about the world, 

the very different points of view.

The amazing similarities, 

of what we feel is true.

The artists, writers, poets, 

philosophers and such.

Really quite connected, 

well I’m thinking pretty much.

Today there’ll be those closer, 

who live in the same time zone.

You very special people, 

those closer to my home.

But I want to thank the lot of you, 

who come to visit me.

I’m on my writing journey, 

And so glad that you come to see.

Pathways Travelled

lizaaitken

 

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Lots of walks I take alone,

where I walked with you before.

Strolled the pathways of the south,

there isn’t many more.

We used to talk of many things,

the flowers and the trees.

Collected bouquets for the hearth,

that I’d arrange to please.

We tried to answer lives great question,

what is it all about.

It was nature gave us pointers,

sometimes it would shout.

We saw all the babies in the spring,

then lone robins in the fall.

Those walks were like the theatre,

and they didn’t cost at all.

Now I walk those tracks alone,

still trying to work it out.

Our very favourite question,

of what is this is all about.

The Ultimate Dance

lizaaitken

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Autumn brings with it love from the skies,

bright red leaves and fond goodbyes.

With deepness of colour, dark reds and rusts,

to linger and watch is a definite must.

Later they’ll dry up, go crisp underfoot,

coal in the fire, hands covered in soot.

But while they are doing their ultimate dance,

rejoice in the colour and give love a chance.

Each leaf is a symbol of life going on,

changing of hues, meeker to strong.

Then they’ll be swept, or melt into the ground,

some in the fire, if crunchy and brown.

In spring they will come back, starting as buds,

first comes the foliage then comes the bugs.

This is the cycle of nature you know,

everything comes back, just moves with loves flow.

 

 

 

Clumsy-DP

lizaaitken


In Brighton there’s a nudist beach, 

for all to just go and be.

If your into taking your clothes off, 

so other folk can see.

It’s not my sort of pleasure, 

I’d rather cover up.

I’m getting on in years now, 

I’m not such a young pup.

I don’t like to go down there, 

I rather not walk by.

But it’s okay as there’s a pile of stones 

and I keep my eyes to the sky. 

But the other day I tripped right up, 

when I was collecting stones.

I had my eyes cast downward, 

then into that place I did roam.

When I looked up I had a shock, 

nude bodies was all I could see.

I shut my eyes so fast again, 

clumsy, clumsy me! 

Trauma Outcomes 

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The rumble of thunder surrounds me, 

it’s surfing over the swell.

That disaster will hit is inevitable, 

timing I just never can tell.

My hearts racing ten to the dozen, 

it’s out of sync with the clock.

What started this crescendo of madness, 

is hidden now and forgot.

Nerves are standing to attention, 

anxieties entered the room.

I need some space for reflection, 

before the big band goes boom.

But now the suns up and rising, 

butterflies cover the sky.

Happiness is pushing its way in, 

for reasons I don’t quite know why.

I shouldn’t drink it won’t suit me, 

I’m drunk on tea can’t you tell.

The waters calm and serene now, 

no sign of the earlier swell.

I sing like I’m Nancy Sinatra, 

the stage a place I am free.

I need to pull in theses emotions, 

so the person you see’s the real me.

Turn off the black and white television, 

sit down in an armchair of beige.

Practice taking on what is bad news, 

without getting into a rage.

I need to pull in my behaviour, 

work on my reactions for sure.

Understand that actions have consequences, 

before I make any more.

But that’s the thing with experience, 

it visits without being called.

I’m a product of what went before me, 

turning me into this ball.



The Medium

lizaaitken

I feel I have a female energy, 

she’s coming through with love.

She’s telling you she’s with you here, 

not somewhere up above.

She’s telling me she watches you, 

this week she watched you dance.

She’s happy that your trying now, 

and giving life a chance.

Her death was so unexpected, 

she knows it was a shock.

She’s come to tell you life goes on, 

for her, the other sides unlocked.

She used to wear an emerald ring, 

you keep it by your bed.

She saw you pick it up last night, 

she heard those words you said.

I’m feeling her emotions, 

she’s washing them through me.

She’s sending all the love she can, 

she wants to help you see.

That she hasn’t gone that far away, 

just stepped through the door.

And now she’s getting stronger, 

she’s with you more and more.

She’s asking that I thank you, 

for the love you gave in life.

She says she was so very proud, 

to be your darling wife.

She sees you with the children, 

when your having fun.

She knows it’s been so very hard, 

for them to loose their mum.

She visits them at night time, 

when their fast asleep.

She gives them gentle kisses, 

with more memories to keep.

I feel she wants to tell you, 

she won’t ever go away.

She’ll always be right with you, 

until she meets you there one day.

So speak out loud to her each day, 

she hears you when you do.

Please know she watches you daily, 

she sends so much love to you.

She’s talking about a candle, 

the one that just won’t stay alight.

She’s telling me she blows it out, 

as you light it every night.

She’s a very good communicator, 

as her love is very strong.

She’s saying you didn’t need to visit me, 

because you had her all along.



Tracks

lizaaitken

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I have travelled so far along this train track, 

each station I’ve left and I’m not turning back.

Through field we speed up and cities slow down,

around me the packages of love I have found.

I’ve been on this train, for most of my life,

since when I first walked and bumped into strife.

For now I sit forward, but I’ve sat facing back,

my eyes cast downward, along rusty old tracks.

Those tracks of my years, in minutes and days,

they are rolling on by and yet not going away. 

The conductor walks through, at intervals now,

he knows where I’m going, just does somehow.

No, I don’t need a ticket, this ride is for free,

the long journey I am travelling, is only for me.

The carriage I’m travelling is empty, no door,

until I reach the conclusion, I won’t know for sure.