Opportunity (for Poets United)

I'd rather regret having done it

Than not having tried at all

Missed opportunities

And lost chances

Always beg to know

What if

While

Failed trials

And lessons learnt

Only suggest

How to do it better

Costumes (for Sunday Scribblings)

Identity displayed and reflected

In an array of colourful costumes

We play like children

Dressing up as heroes and heroines

Of the tales we spin

By following one thought

After another

Enslaved by the stories

Of who we are and who we are not

We build our own prisons

Solidify our experiences

And convince each other that

Naked awareness

Is in need of dressing up

Discontentment

Discontentment

Has built itself a nest

Deep in the confines of my mind

I have been brought up

To change things

Rather than complain

So here I am changing

And changing

And further changing still

And I’m starting to wonder

If I ever will

Find that stillness

Contentment

That happiness outside

While I’m running away

From my own inner light

Fortress (for Sunday Scribblings)

Come

Lay siege on me

Surround my walls

And gather your army

Choose your weapons

Wisely

My dear

Don’t just whisper

Sweet nothings

In my ear

Let your breath

Caress my skin

The touch of your lips 

Be the ultimate win

Play the game

Use your tactics

Increase the suspense

Try to reduce me

Seduce me

Overcome my defence

Override my guards

Overthrow my stakes

Surmount the moat

And then enter the gates

I surrender

With a quickened breath

Awaiting to die

“Le petit mort” – a small death.

Storm (for Sunday Scribblings)

Howling around the house

And knocking against the windows

A storm provides the backdrop

For my morning meditation

Inside my mind

An internal storm

Of thoughts and feelings

Blows away my concentration

But at its centre

In the eye of the storm

There is stillness

And peace

Heart wide open

Like a window opening

To a summer’s day

With white, fresh curtains

That gently sway

I allow my heart

To open wide

I let in the tide

And the ebb

And the flow

And slowly

But surely

My heart

Begins to glow

Honest (for Sunday Scribblings)

The honest truth

Is

That I am 

Everything

You think I am

And 

Everything

I think I am

And

None 

Of the above