Breathing again

Blindness comes in many forms,

its shackles smooth

with links like lace.

The sweet constraint is my delight

as its embrace holds me so tight!

When ‘er some fool disturbs my ease,

I rise with fierce proclivity,

to set them straight or eliminate,

this source electric

that wakens things

that I had hoped would sleep and snore.

 

This shocking current that swept within,

has shone a light on all that’s dim.

The shackles bind and links they grind,

as now my monsters make life unkind.

I find the rawness in my throat

feels almost if I just might choke.

The cry within just wants to rage,

to lash out blindly and break my cage.

But I have learned that if I dare,

release what’s there and be so bare,

I’m only sickened, by this “me” so rare.

 

Yet now a hand that’s brave and kind,

is by my side and helps me unwind.

This one is sure and wavers not,

he seems to think what I can not!

He paints a “me”, I think I’ve lost,

this one is bright and laughs a lot.

This “me” that’s lived beneath my cage,

has been invited out on stage!

I’ve always dreamed that I could dance

but didn’t believe I had a chance,

until today I breathed again – and see!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Entering 2019

To be safe I must comprehend.

To comprehend , I must have order.

To have order I must control.

or

I leap out of my bed to face the new with hope and splendid rage.

Not rage that kills but force that leaps me over fear and dread to see from up above.

 

The floating pieces must settle down

and fit together as if each part of a jigsaw find their place.

Yet when confusion reigns, order flees.

Disconnected pieces lie scattered all around.

Pieces just don’t fit.

In fact the horror is -they are the wrong pieces!

Pieces from another place and time.

They can not fit and yet it seems a tragic loss

to simply throw them all away.

or

I claim the spark of creativity that ignites, that fills the sky with eloquence so bright. The surge that sings of dreams unseen and hearts that search within the glorious sunrise colours, for limitless opportunities in the new that springs – as if from frozen ground.

 

Confusion reigns and so my fear sweeps in to dominate.

Then haunting truth comes to light,

I‘ve misunderstood and so I need what now is gone.

The future tears the frame of my yesterdays!

or

I know I can not know, and yet I leap in spirit bright because there’s one who holds my heart and sings with confidence and life.

 

Still for each of us the new flows through.

It comes each day – both swift and sure.

The heart can quail, the mind can fray, as new things hint of change so different from yesterday.

The urge to freeze, to best ignore,

the flux that seems unsettled –

with dreadful tones of dire bells that warn.

So the clutter of our minds grows old.

I shrink from knowing, to settle into dull.

I’d best be bored and never look the future in the eye.

Until I die, bypassed forlorn.

Or

I rise with Life, my spirit knows while mind is left behind, still placing pieces in the stream that will ignite creativity’s delight and kiss my hope with colours bright and order formed from sprit’s woven tapestry and live.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Expectations

Raised expectations surge with delight.

it feels like it’ll happen, maybe-just might!

The visions they swirl and dance in the wind,

the possible’s endless, and wonder’s in flight.

The hormones are cranked up, the crackle is felt,

and time seems suspended and waiting’s a fight.

All this and more flows out from just words,

that simply portended  that dreams can see light!

 

Failed expectations can hurt just like hell.

The future collapses as pain’s torment swells.

The heart feels despairing, sinking deep in the sea,

while purpose is listless and eyes cannot see.

My stomach does threaten to  split me in two,

and dread seems to squash whatever feels new.

Life’s gripped in iron when future looms dark,

and hope just lies stillborn in grief’s hateful night.

 

Living, believing is never a waste.

It frames my good fortune when in valley’s grave.

My present is always a gift of great hope,

when breathing is granted and friendships are close.

I hold to the precious, that lives in my hand,

and reach for the promise that vision demands.

While ever uncertain, I still see a strand,

of grace that’s connected to that which is grand.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Dream’s substance

Deep within,  my world is vast,

most lies hidden, still unseen.

For the contours of the known

colour in the field of dreams.

All the substance of the mystery,

lies as through a shifting view.

It is gossamer’s seductive hinting,

that’s deplored by logic’s pride.

 

Music haunts the soul that’s open.

Dancing’s grace, a heart’s embrace.

In the majesty of bowing,

kaleidoscopes of life are spun.

Wonder’s kiss releases lightening.

Things so finte seem to pale.

Knowing what is only hinted,

breathes dream’s substance and prevails.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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

Broken dreams

Clashing turmoil – fleeing I seek to hide.

Nothing is certain. The echoes bounce and cry.

Mental confusion grows madly day by day.

Soundless arguments aiding my disarray.

 

In the roaring of mental disconnect,

There’s something deep that begins to lift and rise.

This shift straightens broken loops to clarity

and kisses with a friend’s quiet certainty.

 

Shards of crystal rain upon the fields,

as lies and fears fall scatter like the snow.

Sun’s rays melt the shapeless shards to liquid grace,

creating life for hope’s new planted shrubs.

 

Glowing beauty and fruitful bounty forms

as life takes hold of things once lost and gone.

Destiny flowers – vermillion in a sea of green-

a harvest promised, grown from broken dreams.

Author – Bill Tidsbury