Will you join me

I glanced up high ,

the sky’s so blue!

It such a perfect hue!

It captures light

and then reflects

the wonder of this earth –

as if to say

it really is

a gift!


I stopped and heard

the wind that blew.

It tickled me

as if it knew

just how to brush my ear!

I feel alive

as with my eyes

I drink in colour’s wine

and sing!


I laughed within,

I think I’m buzzed!

This world is quite unique.

There’s ants and bugs,

and little ducks,

that cause my eyes to glow.

This gift of life,

I hold it high-

and dance!

Author – Bill Tidsbury


Peace in the journey

Peace for the mind appears like a matrix.

It’s pieces are tidy and loose ends aren’t frayed.

It’s beauty arises through the flowing of symmetry

that gifts my journey, paths that have clarity.


Peace for the heart is the warmth of embrace,

in the music of feelings that kiss healing grace.

It’s beauty arises from wellsprings of love,

that sparkle around us and shield us each day.


Peace for the spirit is a lake set so still.

Its infinite glory frames my essence to “be”.

It’s beauty arises from  life’s light that births,

all of the wonder of life’s fractal mirth.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Spirit dances slow

Choices within the spirit realm can be a little scary.

I thought I knew my self!

My world runs on routine! But when a sudden twist appeared then suddenly,  I leapt off of the tracks. I found I seemed to now run blind, even when the my world was bright with light!

The shift of balance passing through the veil, is often rather quick. I sense a bit of shock and fear in finding fountains sparkling deep within!

The strong protecting walls of life are suddenly very thin! I never knew – with just a breath that rock could shimmer as if on whim!

Now, with Spirit’s brush, my world is bright and full of things unseen. I ponder – what should be my hope in seeking mystery’s delight?

Is there a danger lurking there – can things so bright be real? Or –  have I simply stumbled on a hole in someone else’s dream?

The things that I can see and feel, bring comfort to my soul.

The change occurs not just within , but leaps across to other’s grins. There is this spark, there is a flow, that paints with colours bright. And so I live with wonder’s hope -alive in nature’s rush as Spirit dances slow.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Stumbling in the dark

My path at night is dark and gloomy,

It’s hard to see without a light.

The roots that trip and things that claw me,

surprise my heart and I take flight.

Yet on this same path in the daytime,

I walk without a care and even play!

I never ponder why I’m fearless,

when deep within I see the way.

Yet now I found my little flashlight,

its bright and shines like mid-day sun.

The world though dark has been enlightened,

and now my my inside’s bright and fun!

Its as I walk with no light seeing,

that darkness fills my world inside.

My future’s dark, uncertain – fearful,

I jump and startle at things that hide.

But when within me light shines brightly,

I shine love’s joy as if a beam,

what comes back sweetly, living in me

is life’s delight with wonder’s theme!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

“New” begins again

First time new – something so powerful, something so wonderful! A birth, a fresh idea, an invention. Something startling and never seen before. It bursts upon the scene with welcome and joy.

However, what astounds me  is the crushed and broken.

Hidden treasure waiting to be found! Something discarded, lost, and forgotten. So much sorrow and hopelessness, trapped within a fragile skin of consciousness.

Always looking – always longing for what?

The sparkle of the new, the wonder of freshness! Always seen, never touched.  So flows the heartless brokenness of loss.

Yet, “new” begins again!

I’ve seen the wonder of light. the joy of crushed fragments settling into patterns, Beauty for ashes framing wonder! Newness comes alive and hope springs into being.

Hope bubbles delightedly, sparkles in the sunshine. Breezes waft away the stench of death. Fragrance fills the air, curious vibrancy activates expectancy as beauty once again dances upon the stage of life.

Freshly, creatively new!

This is the power of Life; the power of Spirit; the meaning of resurrection!

Author – Bill Tidsbury


Wrinkles are written as I touch and flow.

Furrows formed beneath the weight of grief,

strike history’s story for all to see.


Joy’s most gracious glow

leaves marks upon my glass.

As I lift life’s frothy splash to cheer vitality!

Memories mark my journey’s vibrant song.


Spirit slips within,

unseen and smooth as glass.

Life’s electricity vibrates the humming strings,

tuning orchestra’s ode

to the fullness of beauty’s hope.


Community mixes fine,

the curious blend of travellers dreams.

Hearts alive are free to dance –

intoxicated within encounter’s spice,

blending heart and spirit

marking harmony’s face around my eyes.


So now I wear my journey,

as nature’s tattoo etched on skin.

I watch with growing wonder,

– the grace that flows around.

Delicate ink scribes this moment’s time.


Moments write my story,

smoothing pain’s erosion in the balm of Life.

Forgiving opens windows,

renewing soul’s elasticity.


Silken caresses soften skin,

releasing eternity’s peace,

and may face is free!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

On a swing

Little girl on a swing, she delights me as she sings.

She is four and she adores, one who laughs and plays some more.

Little boy her friend so fine, they can fight and not be kind.

When competing for my hand they become a lot less grand.


Little girl she seems to find, so much love in all who’re kind.

Yet she’s learning life can be, something hard that makes you flee.

Little boy, he feels so proud, when He knows he is allowed,

to assist in chores for Dad, He believes he’s quite the lad.


Little girl, she’ll grow up soon, join the mess that fills each room.

She’ll forget this wondrous joy, use her body as’er employ.

Little boy may learn to hate, the gentle soul that is his trait.

He’ll reduce his life to fights, pushing hard to take his rights.


So we grow as tender shoots, ’til foul deeds crush with their boots.

What was grand is soon forgot, fantasy stills our deadly thoughts.

Still, I see in each young eye, a promised hint that God draws nigh.

I do believe in wonders born, cause treasure’s formed in what’s forlorn!

Author – Bill Tidsbury