Startle’s reflex

Floating quiet on my back,

lazy in the Caribbean sway.

Seabirds swooping in the wind above me.

Breezes playful seem so sweet,

as the endless waves wash upon me

and the salt sits on my tongue.


In a moment, startle’s reflex!


My hand slaps this squishy host.

Now my quiet erupts with splashing

and I turn to face this shock.

Clear, transparent, round and panicked –

frantic fear from me the threat!

In a moment things have context

and I smile with some relief.

Stilled and curious, I settle freshly

as life weaves new memory’s trace.

Author – Bill Tidsbury


Seeing fresh

Young girl scowls- she is so bored

as boat plows on so endlessly.

Shifts can come so quietly

when someone helps to shift our gaze.

Blind and sleepy boredom jolts awake

with creative spark’s awakening flare.

Light it dances on the waves.

Coral seas paint randomly.

Colours flow beneath the bow,

while up above, tern’s antics sing such joy.

Mysterious cays emerge in mist –

the feeling’s like she’s caught in dreams!

Eyes – they’ve opened and they’ve seen.



life’s peculiar grace sings in harmony.

Girl’s eyes sparkle as if alive!

T’is only beauty’s awakening

within her natural form.


Seeing fresh’s a gift!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Late night surprise

Reaching in the dark. I bump the glass

and it begins to tip.

My hand it knows it’s missed its cue.

The shock it spirals out in waves

as wakefulness leaps out of daze.

The mind, still fast caught

in the dream of mystery whispering overhead,

it’s slow to realize what is real;

until the splash of wetness sprays my feet.

And now I blink

and wonder what the neighbours think,

of late night prowlers who should have stayed in bed

instead of sipping just a drink

to quiet the catch

that was only wanting some relief.


I now awake.

I guess I might as well go back to bed!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

A yearning deep within

Purpose gnaws within my heart. It is an irresistible force. Yet often it feels mindless!

The sense of direction is vague – it cries out for me to go “somewhere” and yet steps taken in any direction seem wrong!

Purpose is like a harmonic note looking for its counterpoint! It knows the counterpoint is out there but does not know where it lies and from whence it will come. So ache and dis-quiet amble hand in hand with the yearning draw to become!

Dis-comfort is uncomfortable. I can easily choose to bury it under activity or pleasure. Anything that will distract. That which roils my inner being disturbs all of life. Especially if I sit in quiet and solitude.

So much better to run and play and exhaust myself. Exhausted, I can fall into deep sleep with no preamble. It is in the transition process from busyness to sleep that I find a window opens for the echoes of my inner world to most powerfully disrupt my life rhythms and steal my rest!

Yet if I allow myself to turn and contemplate the yearning to become, I find something grand and not scary! (And, why do I think it will be scary?!)

It is a reflection of all my journey’s process. It is a call away from activity into relationship and intimacy – with myself , with you , with God. A refining of my essence that each day reveals itself with greater clarity. A purpose that is irresistible will be made known. The image of who I am is relentless. I’m made for greatness, if only I will cooperate with the creative spark that blossoms deep within, planted by a Creator who knew exactly how to craft wonder out of the essence of what I am made from.

I am made to dance with my reflection in spirit and become something more than I could ever have imagined. I become in relationship, in dynamic, in a dance that energizes synergy and completes the harmony. Found to be known and released as a gift to my world.

Author – Bill Tidsbury


Blind alley

My point of view!

It is quite amazing when I stop to think, that I can see clearly when you only see pink!

And so I think – what’s wrong with you!


I have no reference than that which is within, to classify all things that happen without!

And so my TV must be a shadow of me!


I’ve governed myself, there’s no one else here, who’ll care for the “me” like I want it to be.

And so I’ve lost faith with humanity.


I now have become one, who’s risen up high,  I can’t conceive things you can offer to me.

And so I’m alone with a hollowed out soul.


i act with disdain, I act with pure hate, the other is sickening and I must exterminate.

And so I die, never knowing you were the answer to my cry!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Two brothers

Two brothers playing, no toys in hand.

They create a world with simple élan!

They race with such fury, they roar with great force,

as the villains are vanquished,and they triumph and stand.

They haul their small boat, made of a bottle of soap,

as it crashes through waves of the grass and the sand.

They play all alone, cause their mother works hard.

So, when there’s a fall they sit with no comfort at all.

They’ve learned to be strong,  they’ve learned to be tough,

yet they play freely in a world that so rough.


There are great cultures, where falls are shut out,

yet, equally insisting that darkness should shout.

The walls are erected, and policemen will stand

at doors to guard and make sure things are grand.

Yet still in these bastions there lurks darker threats,

that rise from the hearts of young ones who’re bent.

Their hearts weep profusely while smiles shine brightly,

and anger burns deeply, over slights that were sent.

They’ve learned deep resentment, they’re lonely, forlorn;

their play is now virtual  though their real heart is torn.


Two brothers playing, their future in hand.

Who will break walls down and give them a hand.

Two cultures crying in so different ways,

yet steadily teaching young men they’re not grand.

There’s majesty’s potential when princes arise,

who live in the present yet leave legacy’s surprise.

What’s needed are great hearts that humbly breathe life,

and leave a sweet legacy that turns strife into life.

The world is awash in the hearts that could be,

if only boys learned, that life given, makes free!

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