Secret Daffodil Garden

My heart stilled and swelled

upon seeing blossom trees

and daffodils

in this secret garden.

Cherishing a few snatched

minutes of stillness,

in and with myself,

I picked a bent daffodil;

a keepsake of this Gift to me.

My face turned upwards,

to the bright,

clear,

white

sky

hanging over me like a banner.

My eyes closed;

My heart full

with

gratitude,

love,

and

the pain of longing for you Grandad,

who loved daffodils so.

My spirit open,

with hope of what will be painted

on the blank sky that is

the open canvas of my life

for this year ahead,

As my ears fill with the swell of birdsong.

Image: DLB 6.4.19

Face towards the sun

A car-park poem. (Got your attention!)

I sketched this after three minutes just standing in the car park outside my work building last Thursday. Such was my need for sun on my face and soul.

A deep, visceral need.

By myself, eyes closed, just standing.

Image: Pinterest

NLB

face towards the sun,

feet planted firmly.

Wind blowing,

whole body shaking,

feet planted firmly;

shaking not falling.

Face towards the sun,

eclipsed by the passing cloud,

Sun re-revealed,

smile spreading,

sun blessing.

Feet planted firmly,

face towards the sun,

as clouds and wind blow.

Plastic lightbulbs and birthday cake

When breath becomes air

and air becomes still

When chest is frozen in breath’s

last exhale

When heart and lungs take their final bow

And exhale your Life

Then…

Like Cinderella’s carriage at midnight

the magic of life runs out

Life becomes a grey-painted wall

Stars which mapped the secrets of the constellations become plastic lightbulbs

and the Sun which lit the roads which led us to

an opened door,

a deep smile and

hugs smelling of

brylcreem and palmolive,

four layer birthday cake

and menus written on scrap envelopes,

twinkling, patient blue eyes and powdery-soft strong hands.

That sun now a broken car boot sale lamp,

faulty switch and bulb too weak to shine any light.

Did you know you were the sun and stars?

Did you know you were our inspiration, …my very air?

Did you know know KNOW

how much I loved you?

Please say yes.

Please

say

something.

Please…

stop being gone.

Simon Von Booys

The regret trinity

I generally think regret gets a bad name.

I regret a lot in life: not persevering with learning a language or instrument; not trying harder in school; saying I Love You back when I didn’t mean it (!!); having cheese and crackers tonight after a day of healthy eating; repeatedly going to bed too late, and lots more!

I think the idea that is oh so popular on inspirational Pinterest posters (ugh), that regrets are bad and we should have none just misses the whole point and deep value of regrets! They can be the best motivator and prod us to grow into the people we aspire to be; to be better friends and lovers etc, to improve at work, to save money, and take better care of our health etcccc.

Regret isn’t shame.

Shame labels us and makes us stuck.

Regret labels behaviour and moves us forward (well, for me it usually takes a few regrets to get the lesson but hey, it counts!).

Anyway, I was mulling on this recently and this short poem came to mind…

Regret:

The gap between

What you do

Who you are,

And what you want to do

And who you want to be.

Shame:

The gulf between

What you do,

Who you are,

And what other people want you to do

And who others want you to be.

Freedom

Neither wallowing in regret,

Nor ignoring its painful lessons,

Rather striving to do and be

What and who you want to be.

And not letting others’ (imagined?) views hinder your quest.

 

NLB 3.1.19

Jerking away from oneself?

 

Photo: NLB 2018

As I lay in the Ghana sun –

book in hand,

warmth in bones and heart –

I freeze as I feel something

crawling down my leg.

I jerk firmly

to reclaim my body from this crawling invader

who may mean me harm.

Only to realise in that moment:

it was just a bead of sweat.

How often,

I wonder,

does what comes out of us

make us jerk away

-in fear?

-in surprise?

-in disgust?

Brave Love

I’ve been thinking of late about love & forgiveness & voila, this poem came to me. It’s only after I’d finished it that I called to mind the wiser, more beautiful words of Kahlil Gibran ‘On Love’ in The Prophet so after you’re read my words, do read The Master’s!

Image: GKids

What is it to choose love

when that love may bring harm and hurt?

What is it to take risks with one’s heart, trusting that after hurt,

it will be repaired, as always,

by the eternal love of God,

and the deep resilience within?

What is it to say ‘this is worth it’,

and step forward in search of beauty,

knowing one may instead find

devouring ugliness?

What is it when the tie that binds

may also be that which chokes;

when the love which shatters

is from they who are meant to heal?

It Is

to recognise that,

your breath doesn’t come from another,

So they can’t choke it.

It Is

to understand that,

your worth is rooted in the foundations

of the universe,

So they can’t shake it.

And It Is

to recognise that,

that beautiful love

which made you giggle

on sunny days and in the rain,

which made you

know

Know

KNOW

You. Are. Truly. Loved.

(yet disposable),

comes from a broken human.

So,

in courage,

extend your own hand to love,

both hopeful and wary,

of deep laughter,

and sharp edges,

Trusting that,

whatever comes,

love’s brokenness

will not break you.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet: On Love

Faithful hands

Why,

when I fell asleep

turned away from you,

do I wake with

our legs entwined,

my hand in yours,

and a smile on my face

when I feel this?

God bless my wiser,

faithful, hands and heart

for remembering the truth:

I Love You

far far more

than I’m (trying

to be) annoyed.

Image: David Lester-Bush

With You

One night last week I just couldn’t sleep, because words to a poem were swirling in my head and I was forced out of bed to capture them and write them down… and so for my birthday party a few days later, instead of making an impromptu speech (to avoid last year’s unplanned but hilarious reference to blow jobs!) I recited this poem for my dear ones:

WITH YOU, I stand warmly blanketed by the rich, thick tapestry of you all,
coloured brightly with different characters and ideas,
different views and learnings…

With You, I laugh at different pitches;
the full musical range of NLB dirty laugh to Natalia giggles,
In your company finding both home and release,
each of your unique lights illuminating a different side of my multi-faceted natalianess.

With You I am both punished and forgiven,
I am made weak and thereby made strong. Because with you I am exposed,
not possibly just by one, but by an all,
I am seen, I am heard,
I am endured, I am adored.

With You, my smile is stretched,
My intellect is fed; my soul is nourished,
my ideas are chiselled, and my being is flourished.

Your friendship tapestry is rich, & reflective,
you hold a mirror to my face and point out my character lines, so they can be refined,
and my beauty, so I can be admired.
With You, I am both humbled, and edified.

Above all.
With you, I am given the gift of…S.P.A.C.E.
For, though small, I am big.
With You I am given space- to flounder, and flap,
and spread my big Natalia wings…
and with you pushing me … I (fucking) fly.

NLB bday 2017

Lovers’ Garden

Wandering, chasing the blue dot through a maze of verdant beauty in Madrid,
I chose to cut through a grassy area, unlabelled and unnoticed, had the dot not compelled me to veer off the paved path-ironically simply to seek the grey dashed path the screen dictated.

Suddenly: a rich scene with sunlight dappling through the trees, lush grass and giant trees twinned like lovers greeted me.
And then, as if to reflect the trees, I spotted the lovers entwined in the grass, hidden, immersed in love’s joy & desire.

I realised love and desire had claimed this paradise before me.
And so, a quick selfie and I forced myself on, to seek the dot and leave these lovers in their hidden Eden.

Madrid park image