Feeling hopeful

Children racing, small ones learning, it all becomes a merry whirl.

Life is lived at pace unheard of, in the great big adult world.

When you focus on the brilliance, wonder slides on like a glove,

you can find the hours fleeing as you fill your day in love.

 

When we think of things that drain us, when we ponder on how life whirls,

we so quickly sense the horror, lurking, drawing us down in swirls.

When I tire, and feel unfocused; when I yearn for life that glows,

that is when I need awaking- “Save me from this icy floe!”

 

When the day ends, children mellow, when the energy’s all been spent.

They will look at you with wonder, snuggle up to know they’re loved.

They are hopeful, they are resting, knowing certain that you will tend,

all their treasures ’til the morrow,when this night comes to an end.

 

So again, I’m feeling hopeful, that each day will greet the sun.

I will greet the joy of living, in the dance with youth who hum.

I can spend without despairing,  that my heart will turn to dust.

You’re the one who holds me dearly as  I settle into trust.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Advertisements

Colour’s reminder

Yellow,

the brilliance

trapped within the source

of light with life and radiance.

 

Blue,

the grace

that lights the heavens

when all is clear and life is light.

 

Purple,

a colour

that kids who play

paint for the dragon fierce who cries!

 

Red,

the pain,

the sacrifice that’s given

to bring to life the love that’s joy.

 

Golden orange,

the blessing

of day’s grand end

when darkness comes to dance with dreams.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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

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