I was doing my best to get to sleep but my mind had other ideas. First poem of the year written. I always seem to write best when all I want to do is sleep.
Stardust and sunsets
Long forgotten memories
Looking up at the night sky
to behold; can be found in the smallest of moments.
As though we are being whispered on from above.
Bright sunsets along golden sands..
sometimes we don’t need to travel far
to experience little glimpses of heaven
Often they can be found all around..
in a star lit sky, a smile, hugs and
Kindness warms those who are weary in heart
and reminds them to not loose hope.
Carole Farish January 2014
The smell of warm apple and cinnamon
The breathtaking wonder that this season.
Brings of hope, fun and happiness
Of being together
Remembering the reason why
That Christ came born of Mary
Forsaking himself for us
Which is the greatest gift of all
For He came to set us free.
The true magic of Christmas.
Carole Farish December 2013
Along silent edges
A moment ending into something new
Endings teach me about the blessing
of new beginnings
Not taking things for granted
but being grateful for where I am now
Small steps along the journey
I smile thinking of the little things
Encountered along the way
Like looking at the night sky as though
I’ve never seen it before.
There are always new beginnings
happening all around us.
Being thankful for who you meet along the way
And to think those moments could spark
Something new in our hearts.
– Carole Farish October 2013
Here are some late night musings. Its been a while since I last wrote. Here goes.
Old and young all in one moment
Feeling as though I’m between two places.
One beginning but not quite ending.
As though time has stood still
if only for a little while.
Like a time lapse.
People in awe, shocked in all seriousness..
Maybe its just make believe…
Or forever young at heart.
Carole Farish – September 2013
It was my birthday last week and a long time family friend gave me this poem in the card that she sent me. It was the first time I’ve been given a poem. It is such a beautiful poem that speaks to me in so many ways. Hugs are so precious and have meaning (sometimes more than the person giving the hug realises).
A woman is reading a poem on the street
and another woman stops to listen. We stop too.
with our arms around each other. The poem
is being read and listened to out here
in the open. Behind us
no one is entering or leaving the houses.
Suddenly a hug comes over me and I’m
giving it to you, like a variable star shooting light
off to make itself comfortable, then
subsiding. I finish but keep on holding
you. A man walks up to us and we know he hasn’t
come out of nowhere, but if he could, he
would have. He looks homeless because of how
he needs. “Can I have one of those?” he asks you,
and I feel you nod. I’m surprised,
surprised you don’t tell him how
it is – that I’m yours, only
yours, etc., exclusive as a nose to
its face. Love – that’s what we’re talking about, love
that nabs you with “for me
only” and holds on.
So I walk over to him and put my
arms around him and try to
hug him like I mean it. He’s got an overcoat on
so thick I can’t feel
him past it. I’m starting the hug
and thinking, “How big a hug is this supposed to be?
How long shall I hold this hug?” Already
we could be eternal, his arms falling over my
shoulders, my hands not
meeting behind his back, he is so big!
I put my head into his chest and snuggle
in. I lean into him. I lean my blood and my wishes
into him. He stands for it. This is his
and he’s starting to give it back so well I know he’s
getting it. This hug. So truly, so tenderly
we stop having arms and I don’t know if
my lover has walked away or what, or
if the woman is still reading the poem, or the houses –
what about them? – the houses.
Clearly, a little permission is a dangerous thing.
But when you hug someone you want it
to be a masterpiece of connection, the way the button
on his coat will leave the imprint of
a planet in my cheek
when I walk away. When I try to find some place
to go back to.