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

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Hope endures

Children cry, children need,

they feel the pain of broken dreams.

Eyes so clear, can cloud with shame,

with just a word that rips their frame.

Still so eager to forgive,

they hug, they hold while yet they bleed.

Hunger comes,  within neglect,

bruises formed by pain’s regret.

Rage’s flayings  fill their hearts-

still, one sparkle ignites a start.

Curious eyes, just won’t go out,

while hope endures – resisting doubt.

Senses are tuned to those who care,

in just one moment, they leap and dare.

The heart is framed, to drink of love,

To feels secure when eyes touch their’s.

Electricity’s current surges bright,

when someone’s kindness glows with light.

A heart is welcomed, joy’s blossom grows,

when they sense the heart that sees them soar.

Released and free, in this moment’s calm,

their hope lives on – yet the war’s not done.

Promise hinted, in a broken world.

A treasure of hope – just waiting for one.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Child’s gift

One little smile,

charming and sweet,

shines from a girl.

coming to greet me.

Eyes while haunted

by life’s brutal mess,

still see with hope

and believe I’m the best.

A scampering motion,

and next she’s embraced,

by arms that receive her

with joy she’s released.

Contagious, infectious,

she lives with no shame.

She hasn’t yet learned

that she’s poor with no name.

Alive, still believing

in this day’s rich grace.

Enjoying the laughter

with mud on her face.

She twinkles with brilliance,

her heart so alive.

She’s blessing the world

with life from above.

Today I’ve received

a gift in my being

in the face of a child-

unbound, still believing!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Dandelion freckles

Brilliant freckles on the lawn;

glowing yellow, bright and fun.

Children love to pick and hold

common weeds that are so bold!

 

Soon the brilliance has been snuffed;

brightest colour now white fluff.

As the breezes flick and play,

little seeds just float away.

 

Cycles fill my world with zest.

Colours fade but seeds then sprout.

As I shift and dance in flight,

hope dreams big in fresh delight.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Oh so free

Small parrots, loud parrots, flocking declare-

“we are the owners of all that is air!”

If life could be measured only by sound,

then surely their claim

would be their’s all year round!

 

Small lizards, fast lizards sitting in sun.

lying in pleasure  except when they run!

If life’s delight could tolerate heat,

then all of my memories

could be sampled still sweet!

 

Small child, bright child, swings unaware,

Singing so blissful without any care.

If all of my focus can dance oh so free,

then sparkles aplenty

will caress those like me!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

On a swing

Little girl on a swing, she delights me as she sings.

She is four and she adores, one who laughs and plays some more.

Little boy her friend so fine, they can fight and not be kind.

When competing for my hand they become a lot less grand.

 

Little girl she seems to find, so much love in all who’re kind.

Yet she’s learning life can be, something hard that makes you flee.

Little boy, he feels so proud, when He knows he is allowed,

to assist in chores for Dad, He believes he’s quite the lad.

 

Little girl, she’ll grow up soon, join the mess that fills each room.

She’ll forget this wondrous joy, use her body as’er employ.

Little boy may learn to hate, the gentle soul that is his trait.

He’ll reduce his life to fights, pushing hard to take his rights.

 

So we grow as tender shoots, ’til foul deeds crush with their boots.

What was grand is soon forgot, fantasy stills our deadly thoughts.

Still, I see in each young eye, a promised hint that God draws nigh.

I do believe in wonders born, cause treasure’s formed in what’s forlorn!

Author – Bill Tidsbury