Life lived

Life lived is gritty.

I wrestle with such broken things

and find my nails have filled with crud!

It’s hard to grasp things when their slimed,

they slip away, and then you find,

they hit you on the head!

 

Life lived is bumpy.

I merrily drift along – my life intact,

until a turn slams me to the ground!

And then as potholes throw me round,

I find I’m bruised, and then with dread

I hit that spot again!

 

Life lived is precious.

I find a hand supporting me.

Your eyes reach out to ease my pain.

And suddenly I’m me again!

I find a joy. I share a laugh.

Sharing opens doors to gold!

 

Life lived is positive.

I’m free again to hold your hand.

I hold a child tight and how she sings!

Kids snuggle in and whisper things,

that open wide such happy tunes.

Then eyes alight  – we dance!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Hope’s belief

Small delights as children play,

testing roles they’ll lead in life.

Adults watching stop and grin,

awkward copies of all that’s been.

 

Small boy swings with deliberate force.

His miss is awkward – brings surprise!

He still is learning that what he sees,

is different than that for which he sighs.

 

Sweet little girl loving times of peace.

resting happy in the folds of love.

Smiles that melt with hope’s belief,

that adults strong can bring relief.

 

Children teaching as they learn.

These are gifts so often spurned.

Yet if gentle hearts will learn,

that all as children must be reborn.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Why?

Why in a world of so much grace -does desperation thrive?

When men can fresh design some human gene, “one small child” abounds across the globe, still caught in suffering’s bloody hate.

Billions in gold sit in bank’s deep holds, guarded darkly from any so bold to ask for food as babies cry.

Creative genius works to frame some new design to save the world, yet only those with cold hard cash are taken in within the fold.

Why in a world where many seek to protect mother earth from harm and filth, we find her children dying beneath the crush of arms bought from men whose simple vice is making gain?

Innocence is lost when a child seeks firewood outside a camp, while strong men guard with arms the post that politics says defends the weak.

Children sweat and chemicals burn while things extracted grant others multiplayer reality to fight boredom’s sorrow.

Mothers cry and fathers rage as one small child burns with heat, still waiting for the tender grace of one small dose of medicine – out of reach of poverty’s cage.

Why in a world where freedom lives and movement is guaranteed amongst a people strong and brave, do millions tread wrapped up in chains bound into servitude and violence’s pain?

A child dreams of living well, within a home with roof and chair, a bed with one simplistic cover – safety and peace that lasts all night!

A young girl dreams of a doctor’s voice guiding her as she learns to give the gift of life to others dear who wait for hope and healing hands.

A young teen dreams of discovery’s awe, as hope is opened for this earth’s redemption, while all around the tentacles of vice removes the dream and injects a shame.

Why, when so many can see the pain, do systems grind fine the ones who resist the lies?

Students stir awake and cry injustice, yet quickly lose their voice as promotion woos them sweetly.

Idealists convene to plan and scheme and then they silently diffuse their cries as we rationalize that people trapped in prisons hate, have only themselves to blame.

Living calls for action until I’m swamped by distraction’s fragrance that sings a dream that never grants discomfort.

Why?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Canadian waiting room

People peer and people hide, people scurry around inside.

Busy lives occupied, and then collide! – caught in a waiting room.

Different journeys all coincide, they pull us together, side by side.

Some are sick and others tired; one is supporting while another strides.

All together in one room, waiting their turn to leave this doom.

 

Eyes are glued to cell displays, some are earnest with video games,

All can feel each other’s vibes, crowded around yet locked outside.

Brief encounters cause a smile, especially when caused by an innocent tike.

In spite of proximity, silence reigns, then there’s a giggle that doesn’t end.

Transparency’s blessing brings relief, as one small child distracts his friend.

 

Busy lives wrenched by chaotic waves, yet walls erected keep things “safe”.

People drift in with worries and fears, shrivel within because no one dares.

Kept apart by fearful restraint, tumbled lives twirl with no incident.

Alone and silent, each in turn, take harried hearts in for pills that burn.

Each of us miss the  treasure beside us, because we insist on the silence that hides us.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Kids and bullfrogs

Massive bullfrog sitting in the shade,

minding his own as the heat holds sway,

Along comes a boy and wouldn’t you know,

the frog’s lost his chance to doze today.

 

The bullfrog’s big, the child you can see,

wants to know how long his legs may be.

He soon finds a stick and with just one tap

this boring day’s music turned into a rap.

 

The bull frog’s wise, the boy has a will,

the frog flips a flop as he dives down the hill.

He splashes with aplomb in a nice green scum

hoping he can hide or just play dumb.

 

The little boy’s quick, he’s learning with glee

that one push from a stick makes big things flee.

He probes and he pokes and carefully explores,

till the water erupts with a beast that soars!

 

The bullfrog decides, he no longer can play,

so he heads to the hills to hide under some clay.

He scrambles and jumps until quickly he finds

a quiet cave to protect his behind.

 

The moral you see, is plain I may say,

one flips a day by appreciating delay.

To open our eyes and curiously engage,

to laugh and romp in my day’s shifted page!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Small ones

Child’s view, shifts the world,

Small delights bring eyes that glow.

Hearts that sing,creating portals,

Adoring eyes shine through my soul.

 

Frustration’s shriek can pierce the wonder-

-learning that my will can’t force;

My playful brother’s not soft putty,

in my grand imaginations show!

Eyes that weep with little bruises,

it’s the bumps that startle the heart.

Comfort needed, embrace accepted,

memories bound – we’re not apart!

 

Sudden fear as buzzing critters,

swiftly intercept creative play,

Rescuers are so heroic,

when the wind drives wasps away.

Soon forgotten through giggles freedom,

Life continues in happy song.

Curious questions, open insight,

In a journey just newly sprung.

 

Resting, hoping, safe and grateful,

Love’s abode is future’s dream.

Child’s trust loosens my hearts fountain,

treasuring small ones crazy memes!

Author – Bill Tidsbury