Monday, 31 January 2011

Safe (inspired by Sunday Scribblings)

In familiarity and routine
Procedures and regulations
We forget that no one has ever
Achieved anything great
By playing it

Friday, 28 January 2011

Dear Rinpoche

Your wisdom speech announces the truth
Your limitless compassion is shining proof
That enlightened energy manifests in you
From my heart I rejoice in all that you do

In times when I struggle to follow your advice
I just need to remember the love in your eyes
And feeling your trust and unwavering faith
I continue to follow the teachings you gave

I’m vowing to never abandon the path
That I’ll invest myself fully - not just half
Like you I won’t rest until all beings are free
And see the truth for themselves
With clarity

Bucket List (inspired by We Write Poems)

My list is endless I have to admit
Too many things that won’t possibly fit
In the time you can find in just one life
Deciding and choosing a constant strife

One thing has been on that list for a while
And merely the thought of it makes me smile
I feel happy and blissful imagining it
But it also scares me – just a little bit

With that joyful passion and a pinch of fear
It’s something I’ve been holding very dear
And close to my heart since being a child:
Oh how I wish to spend time in the wild!

Surrounded by jungles lush and green
Exploring places where no one has been
Hearing the sound of strange creatures at night
The beauty of nature the only sight

I’d like to live with an indigenous tribe
And learn to tune into their natural vibe
By living a life very simple and real
All my civilised dis-ease
Might be able to heal

Thursday, 20 January 2011

To be a woman

I’ve always struggled with this
Felt there’s something wrong
With being reduced to your gender
Being told where you belong
Neither emancipated feminist
Nor obedient little thing
I detest both extremes
And I don’t want to cling
To the body I’m born with
In order to decide
Who I am and who I can be
I don’t want to hide
Behind conventions and rules
Restrictions and pressure
I want to live my life
At my own leisure
In the journey of life
Our body’s just the car
Our mind is the driver
And determines who we are

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Conversation with my inner wisdom being (inspired by We Write Poems)

“We write poems” have asked us this week to write a conversational poem. When I started contemplating this prompt, it made me think of an exercise I used a lot when working as a Learning Mentor with primary school children. I asked them to close their eyes and visualise themselves going on a journey to find a wisdom being that lives in a cave. The wisdom being would then give them a present. I’d let them describe their journey, the cave, what the wisdom being looked like and what present they got and then draw a picture of it to keep. I told them that anytime they needed advice, they could go back to that place in their mind and ask the wisdom being for help and guidance. That way I hoped to enable them to access their own inner wisdom.
Today, I felt a bit down and found myself wondering what I could do to get rid of these negative feelings inside of me. I realised that everyone is doing this all the time: craving the good feelings and pushing away the bad ones. I then engaged into a conversation with my inner wisdom being about this and this is my attempt to present the resulting conversation in poetic form:

I don’t want bad feelings.
How can I only experience the good?

That’s a very good question
But how is it that you would
Even know what good feels like?
Don’t you need to know what’s bad?

I know good and bad, so I can compare
And I prefer feeling happy over feeling sad.

But how, without each other, could they even exist?

So is it foolish to wish for good ones?
You’ve left me in the mist.

With dualistic thinking
Your suffering won’t cease
Go beyond to the source
And you will find peace
From there watch it all
Arise and pass away
Don’t judge or hold on
That’s the only way.

Sunday, 16 January 2011

Invisible (inspired by Sunday Scribblings)

It's easy to judge as lies
Anything invisible to our eyes
As if visibility is a credential
In order to be true or essential

Saturday, 15 January 2011

True courage (inspired by Writer's Island)

When it comes to fear
I choose fight over flight
But to replace fear with anger
Somehow doesn’t feel right
This technique really sucks
And has little to do
With the spirit and heart
Of courage that is true
True courage is able
To stay with the fear
Looks at it closely
Even holds it dear
Watches it patiently
With awareness that is pure
That it will eventually dissolve
True courage knows for sure

Friday, 14 January 2011

Reflections (for Jingle Poetry Potluck "Languages, Signs and Symbols")

We assume we understand each other’s signs
We’re looking out, listening in
And try to read between the lines

But maybe we’re just projecting our thoughts
On a virgin white screen
And reflections of ourselves
Are all that can be seen

Tuesday, 11 January 2011

Spring Cleaning

Hidden in the back of the cupboard and
Covered in spider webs of die-hard habits
Sit musty old boxes, filled to the brim
With old fears and emotional memorabilia

They smell of where we don’t want to go
Of where we pretend we’ve never been
And still we are so reluctant to finally
Throw it all out and give ourselves
A thorough spring clean

Not a morning person

The sound of the alarm clock ripped through the reality of her dreams with the intensity of someone smacking her hard in the face. Irritated and annoyed she reached for the off button without opening her eyes. She just couldn’t find inside herself whatever was necessary to get up instead of turning the alarm off but she never really went back to sleep either. It was like someone had attached some sort of buoyancy equipment to her consciousness that pulled her up and out of the deeper layers of sleep as soon as she went under. By the time she finally dragged herself out of bed, she was even more tired, angry at herself for not just getting up and obviously late and under pressure to get ready for work.
Every morning started like this. She woke up grumpy, irritated and already on the back foot before the day had begun. She could never understand how some people joyfully jumped out of bed in the morning and in addition sang or whistled a jolly tune that accompanied them on their way to the bathroom. She envied them.
This morning, just to add insult to injury, the milk had gone off over night so she couldn’t even fit a coffee in. She left the house and walked to the station completely weighed down by the dark clouds on her mind and almost didn’t notice the new advertisement they put up opposite the station’s entrance. “Not a morning person?” it shouted at her in big letters and portrayed a woman not unlike herself first thing in the morning with wild hair, scrunched up eyes and a grim, almost desperate look on her face. It was like looking in the mirror with the difference that she had now changed from pyjama to work clothes, done her hair and put some make-up on. Weird, she thought and went closer to try and make out what it was actually about. It was an advert to encourage self-employment. “Choose your own working hours, be your own boss...” “Pfff...” she huffed to herself and the miserable mood, only momentarily interrupted by a moment of surprise, clouded back over her.
3 hours, 2 coffees and a seemingly never ending stream of mind numbing work tasks later she found her mind going back to that advert. Not a morning person. No, she thought, she wasn’t but neither had she planned on becoming self-employed. She looked around over the open plan office space in which she had her desk. The quiet atmosphere in this room full of people suddenly seemed eerie and unreal. As if along with the oxygen all life had been sucked out of it and replaced by the gassy discharges of human bodies, reeking of dissatisfaction. She grabbed her coat and decided to take her lunch early.
Outside it was raining and because she wasn’t really hungry yet she decided to stroll through the shopping centre and grab a sandwich on the way back. She walked towards the bookshop to browse some of the new books on offer when her eyes fixated on a book in the window. “Positively negative – how knowing who you are NOT can help you find out who you are!” it said in bold letters on the cover. She walked inside and asked to have a look at the book. It was one of those psycho crap books she naturally loathed, a workbook type with several exercises to follow in order to find one’s “true calling”. She didn’t know what had come over her that made her walk to the till and buy it but on the train home she started reading it and actually enjoyed where it was taking her.
When she passed the advertisement outside her station she winked at her mirror image with a smile.

Sunday, 2 January 2011

Embark (inspired by Writer's Island)

It’s in the quiet hours of the night
When I already turned off the light
That my muse turns towards me in the dark
Whispers in my ear and asks me to embark
On this journey to a mysterious land
Where thoughts and feelings take my hand
Start dancing with me until I glow
And from my fingers words start to flow
Like travellers from a far-away land
Washed ashore
Writing in the sand