Its true

The beauty flirts

with eyes of hope

she needs to find

her way to flee.

Her life is hard

not what was dreamed.

“What ifs” have filled

her till she screams.

Yet each new day

comes as before,

with token hints

there could be more.

So as she waits,

her heart hides deep,

her face it smiles

while spirit weeps.

But still the hope

it will not die.

Each face that comes

is seen with sighs.

Is this the one

who is to come-

who’ll break the chains

and sing I’ve won!

So each new day

there is a look,

reserved for one

who might be real-

to share the story

and bring in glory!

If only life could be so true,

and I could be alive with you!

Author – Bill Tidsbury



How I see

is so much more than

what’s in front of me.


How I feel

is so much deeper than

the words I say.


How I look

means more to you than

who I am.


How I cry

speaks louder than

my broken heart.


How do I touch you

when I am alone?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

A song that heals

In an instant life can change, its so sudden as I’m rearranged.

My upside down has made me frown. It’s all just turned me round and round!

As I wallow in shades of grey, my doubts explode and I’m a wraith.

I drift as if I live as dead, and wonder why my heart has dread.


When in that vague and grey abyss, I cry with wails that echo loud.

I still can hear a whisper faint, that hints a song can break my dread.

The tune so faint still never goes. It warms this heart because it knows .

That song it heals a wounded place and somehow grants me peace and bread.


I’m not alone; I never was. I’m softened by caress’s love.

When ere I look to catch that brush – I sense faint hints of things above.

I’m slowly learning I think to trust, In one who hopes for what I yearn.

The cry to flee it feels so strong, but when I trust, its then I learn.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Hope’s eyes

The consternation of a father,

as a precious child cries,

its power evokes the heavens,

as he seeks to turn the tide,

and in the dungeons of his heart,

a prisoner groans,

remembering days now past,

when pain became his home.


The fears that ply a mother’s soul,

as hungry toddlers ask her “why”.

She has no job that brings the dough,

and so hates her life also.

The future looms with horror’s mist,

which thickens slow and grey,

then devours greedily

as silence weeps her tears.


And while I seek, so weak and small,

to change this moment’s need.

I come with little in my hand ,

but eyes that see a God that breathes.

Then in this nexus peace is born,

as hope’s eyes sparkle with surprise

while arms of grace so wise

heal hearts with bread that’s real.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

What plight

Locked within my known shores,

I look with wonder as others soar.

I would so love to fly up free,

while holding tight to this my way.


The blue of skies can be so pure,

It’s shocking really first to see.

The shock soon fades with eyes shut tight –

I can not leave my known shores.


A voice still whispers that I might

arise so free, and then take flight.

There’s something deep that reaches out,

I squeeze it hard in case it shouts.


I choose to live with silenced heart,

it’s safe to dwell on barren shores.

I cannot frame a different form,

than one with wings so weak and shorn.


Persistent still the voice calls out.

Reminding me of blue skies bright.

I wonder if some other day,

I might leap up and leave my plight?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Culture’s colour

Clash of cultures, how we see,

is as varied as fish in seas!

When we live and speak as one,

we shape the world and it becomes.

Some create a world with walls,

Others dream of skies that move.

When we look at other’s eyes,

if they differ we then deny.


Some delight in musics pound

Others choose a lilt that lifts.

Some repose in structures bare,

other’s colours light the night!

Some genteelly ride in buses

while others banter as tire scream.

Each of these is quite unique;

each believe their’s is most right.


Some protect and cover up

every aspect of their hearts.

Then they bare their flesh with flair,

and astound those who wouldn’t dare.

Some explode with wails and screams,

pain exposed for all to see.

Then they cloak themselves in cloth,

So to keep privacy intact!


So we each meander life

drinking sweetly from our past.

When our journey drops us curves,

we then discover there’s more to learn.

So to keep our future bright,

we really need to blend our strands.

As we journey and learn to love,

its so good to keep holding hands.

Author – Bill Tidsbury