Junctions

The road I travelled just made me fly.

I journeyed through some mountains rare.

But then I came to find it stopped!

There was no road ahead.

I could turn off towards the left –

it’d take me off to who knows where!

Yet too I had an option speak to me

to seek the right which led me back

to places where I could expand

and be myself, yet more.

 

And there I sat, I made no choice!

I could not choose that which is unknown.

I dithered often, but still was stuck

within a car that once had run

with furious pleasure yet now was trapped,

just sitting waiting as my heart felt torn.

I woke up to a horn’s demand!

Another traveler on the road.

He too was trapped behind my “stuck”.

How could I move, I could not choose

It seemed so simple, yet,

my heart it sighed – I could’ve died,

still waiting for the road ahead

to open wide and let me be

to run with fun into the sun,

upon a road no longer there.

 

So there I prayed for courage – strength,

to cease this choice that froze my dare,

and make a move both bold and rare.

-a choice to start again with flair!

So, once again with fresh delight

I’ve opened up some doors.

Not bound by indecision – to soar!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Hope’s grace

A woman attacked alone in the dark,

A robber assails with knife and the shock.

The fear that leaped up to devour and consume,

now feeds in a frenzy in a heart torn by gloom.

She sits and is broken – her face stitched and torn.

Her heart is so empty – she sits all alone,

The health care is broken, her tendons are cut.

She needs hearts that bear life and help her to trust.

 

Grace is so so willing to reach and to weep.

It takes just one action so eyes can light up.

A presence envelopes as a hand reaches out.

A heart that is gentle, stills death’s hateful shout.

Moments are precious, when fear meets with love,

it’s gentle yet present, and halts frenzy’s shove.

When Spirit caresses and pours helping balm,

on wounds that are ragged and torn by much harm.

 

Hope is the answer! It rises above.

It infiltrates slowly, and awakens the dove.

The battle is fiercest when fear has to flee.

Yet when it is vanquished, hope’s grace sings to me.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Wisdom’s grace

Wisdom’s grace is missed with ease,

when I listen to fancy’s breeze.

The sweet caress of easy ways,

promises hope, then leaves me dazed.

 

A trap is found in history’s logic

passed down for years as if its tonic.

It blocks the heart that feeds on fears,

and leaves my present in arrears.

 

Wisdom’s grace comes in with freedom.

It gently kisses, creates anew.

Wisdom’s quiet ways come singing,

dancing smoothly with identity’s “being”.

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

Honours blessing

Heart’s that can be lifted upward,

yearn to see the light of day.

When they feel the Spirit’s urging,

they can breathe and so can say:

“I was drowning, scared, uncertain,

when a light shone clear as day.

Now I’m joyful, in this moment

as I dance upon my grave.’

 

Little words and fingers touching,

say that fragile trust’s been born.

Chains of shame lie shattered, silent.

Instead of shame, now, honour’s fame

sings with intimacy’s connection’s won.

Recognition is never status,

it is heart’s delighted trust

in one who gives and doesn’t run.

 

Honour’s blessing is often hidden,

as I walk life’s dusty trails.

I am living, simply giving,

who I am, with this jaded orb!

Yet the tendrils of love’s fragrance,

is a force that builds with time,

as my heart is more transparent,

and my eyes just won’t be blind.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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

Reaching Beyond

Eyes that sing even when heart’s still weighed.

Eyes that open hope’s grace while frayed.

Heart that battles to live with light

even though mercy has taken flight.

 

Smile that reaches beyond the form.

Smile that sings during the storm.

Body though bent and doubled with age,

still has strength to shatter the cage.

 

Hand that reaches out to caress.

Hand that’s broken yet still can bless.

Spirit undaunted that’s framed to shine,

all of the wonder of what’s sublime.

Author – Bill Tidsbury