Something Missing

Some people have something missing,
It's little gap,
In themselves.
Perhaps it is self doubt.
Are they of value?
Are they here for a reason?

And this doubt,
Creates a terrible gnawing inside.
That drives them to despair,
Or other desperate measures.
They cling to the edge of life,
With their knuckles whitening.

Mostly people fill this gap
With purpose.
A life of industry and usefulness.
Some fill it with acts of kindness.
Others with the care of partners and children.
They all see themselves reflected in their deeds,
And find their worth.

She trawls the internet looking for love.
And pours out her sadness to strangers,
Hoping to find acceptance and approval.
I look on hopelessly.
She isn't courageous enough,
To see the pattern of her folly,
And with each rejection,
Her gap increases.

Missing Someone

It is a little hollow feeling.
A small ache in the chest.
At its worst,
It is a hard tight knot,
At the remembrance,
Of the time you spent together.
You can think about them,
Their quirks and idiosyncrasies,
Their little mannerisms.
And inwardly smile,
Your heart warms and your ears are soothed,
By the sound of their name spoken aloud.
And the anticipation of reunion,
Is even better than the actual embrace,
Which feels like a homecoming.

The Art of Delayed Gratification.

According to the great sage of the Twentieth Century,
Edward P. Bear,
It is not in the actual eating of the honey,
That the true pleasure is found.
It is in the anticipation of eating the honey.
Those moments before,
Where thoughts stray to,
What eating honey shall be like.
Thoughts that are the culmination of
All prior pleasant experiences of eating honey,
With the heightened expectations
Of what this latest honey experience,
May be like.

This is why when expectations are not met,
For example if the honey jar is empty,
It can be so disappointing.
We cease to feel the pleasant feelings of anticipation.
Likewise;
If we have too much choice,
We also miss out on this wonderful feeling.
Where honey is on tap for example,
There is no joy in anticipating eating honey.

Live in the moment and find joy?
Nup!
Discover the divine practice,
Of the Art of Delayed Gratification.
Practise temperance,
Be grateful,
And find healthy experiences to look forward to.
Honey in moderation.

Washing up

Billie the baby is six years old.
She is just finishing her diary entry.
"How do you spell Miss Mandy?"
She asks.
Her grip is correct and her writing deft and efficient.
As a teacher and her Mum,
I feel a bubble of pride warm my chest.
Now what to do?
Her earnest little face asks.
"Would you like to help me with the dishes?"
Her answer beams from her face,
And my chest again re-inflates.
Aprons donned and a small chair reversed acts as stool.
The rinse water, child's blood-warm.
She uses a bottle washer to help the rinsing process.
And carefully places each glass and utensil into the dish rack,
Up side down.
She is meticulous.
I watch the mid morning sun pick up the flecks in the rinse water.
I breath in and inwardly smile,
At this perfect Summer idyll.

Winter Sun

This morning unveiled of mist, the winter sun is out.
Lengthens the shadows cast on my notebook.
White pages illumined,
Contrast the distinct outlines of my hand,
And the moving tip of my pen.
Against the rays my eyes squint - a compromise,
That I may bathe in warmth,
And enjoy reprieve from the persistent cold, damp, grey.
I feel the gloom lift from my heart.

Working with my hands

I escape into my head,
And into my hands.
The pictures in my head produce:
Poetry, paintings, song lyrics and...
Other projects.

(Some psychologically educated professionals have been known to describe them as 'special interests')

I can walk around these ideas in my head.
A tweak here, a major change there.
And all in 3D,
My own personal movies.

And then I may experience the sheer pleasure,
Of transforming ideas into reality,
With my hands.

...Besides bringing joy to others,
What greater happiness can there be?

 

Singing the Cosmos

What is it about singing,
That makes you feel so...
Alive?
To sing alone,
That is soul enriching,
But to sing with others,
Is like a form of communion.
Yes you are together,
Voices in harmony.
More than that.
It is like when the notes combine,
In rhythms and chords,
In sympathy with our breath and beating hearts,
What is produced is a key to the very
Cosmos.
Together we are singing the universe.