On being the One.

Young girl with eyes so bright,

listens with hope instead of fright.

The hope is strong, I can feel the shift,

of power found, of dreams that lift.

The spirit deep within her feels,

the awakening hint of sparks that flare.

She senses deep within a force.

that yearns for her to dance of course!

The music hints of a grander role,

so tied to dreams once only mourned.

Her breath at moments, is caught and held,

as mystery sings and her heart just rings.

It all connects with the Spirit’s breath,

whose fire inspires as she flees her death.

The power flows freely to break the chains,

of life that’s lived under fears domain.

 

She sits up straighter-

her eyes are clear!

There’s steel in her backbone!

There’s strength in her arm!

She’s stepped out of passive

she’s ready to run,

with dreams that inspire

to actually become!

 

The sun still is shining, the rain will still fall,

but she has become the valiant, the One!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Culture clash

Culture clash, in a flash, the “other” is so strange.

They have it wrong, they must be dumb,

and surely I would know.

I see so clear, there’s no veneer, my insight never lies!

If only “they” would wake and say,

“You’re right – it’s us who’ve been so wrong!”

 

My perception, my reception, I really don’t connect!

I am the one that bounces off, the flow that’s evident.

and yet I see it not!

I am confused, my signals cross, and so I wander lost.

The answers plain, return again, to child’s humility,

and join the toddlers on the floor!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Power’s out

Power’s out, the fan just died,

The air that was so fresh

now wraps me with a cloying hug.

The glands that helped me feels so cool,

Now drip and quickly form a pool!

It is when daily heat is high,

that motion makes your skin just sigh!

The breeze that brushes past your neck,

makes what is harsh seem more refreshed.

Unless of course the power dies!

To drink a tall glass feels so good,

until the t-shirt on my back

absorbs the glass’s refreshing flood,

then, soon my pants are damp of course!

Sweat seems to sing when fans don’t hum.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Honours blessing

Heart’s that can be lifted upward,

yearn to see the light of day.

When they feel the Spirit’s urging,

they can breathe and so can say:

“I was drowning, scared, uncertain,

when a light shone clear as day.

Now I’m joyful, in this moment

as I dance upon my grave.’

 

Little words and fingers touching,

say that fragile trust’s been born.

Chains of shame lie shattered, silent.

Instead of shame, now, honour’s fame

sings with intimacy’s connection’s won.

Recognition is never status,

it is heart’s delighted trust

in one who gives and doesn’t run.

 

Honour’s blessing is often hidden,

as I walk life’s dusty trails.

I am living, simply giving,

who I am, with this jaded orb!

Yet the tendrils of love’s fragrance,

is a force that builds with time,

as my heart is more transparent,

and my eyes just won’t be blind.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Colour’s exploding ( a community event with paint and bright chalk powder )

One announcement celebrates life-

little children pouring in.

Hope’s alive when hands reach out –

child delights when safe.

Big strong muscles used to enforce,

now lift high with laughing joy.

Hearts once hard

form sweet chocolate’s grace,

as kids cling close

and feel heart’s embrace.

 

Running, yelling- hectic surge,

heart’s are racing,

chalk dust swirls.

Then within the whirling craze,

steps a face –

that’s pink and green,

smeared by laughing tiny hands.

Bright eyes shining,

heart’s enthralled,

big fighter rises-

soaring on adoring eyes.

A moment caught and treasured still,

when for an hour, a warrior found

his life made whole

through a child’s soul.

Author- Bill Tidsbury