The Peacock and the Stars

Blue and green feathers sparkle,
like silver or gold in the sun.
The delicacy of a young bird,
conceals the strength of bones,
that bend like moist twigs.

Black eyes stare at me.
I disappear into their abyss,
where the universe is recreated,
in the rebirth of stars and planets.
My wings carry me further than that,
and I inhale the sweet scent of love,
burning like fire in my heart.

Unbreakable in my fragility,
strength is always an illusion,
that bends in the stormy winds,
and breaks on sweet summer days –
the unpredictability of life,
is like tiny star explosions,
always leading to something new.

Merging together,
from two different worlds,
the peacock has to lose her feathers,
and the stars will have to forget,
their ability to break in silence.

It reminds me of growth

The scent of earth,
reminds me of growth.
Of breaking,
turning,
sweat on my brow.
Of digging,
of holes,
that need to be filled.
Of seeds,
and of life.
It reminds me,
of water,
now and again,
every other day,
or once a week.
Of pulling,
of weeds,
of earth,
underneath my nails.
It reminds me,
of waiting,
of time,
of patience,
and then,
the reward,
of all your hard work.
Of new life,
of birth,
of little by little,
every day a little more,
until all there is left,
is to bloom!

My old blue jeans

Under a blue sky,
a bird rises,
to fly away,
to the end of the earth,
where she finds,
the sun shining,
underneath  the feathers,
of her own black wings.

And here I walk,
with you,
in the pocket,
of my old blue jeans,
that have faded,
in the broken parts,
of yesterday.

Can I bring,
the sun back,
to that little corner,
of my place on earth?
Or do I fly away,
like that bird,
to somewhere,
where my old blue jeans,
can’t rupture?

Now I stand,
in my old blue jeans,
in the middle,
of a busy road,
where each car,
passes me by,
with the same question,
as I!

The Art of True Living

The withered flowers,
can only arise from their ashes,
when I can give them back,
to the dark earth.
So, I burry them,
deep within the soil,
for them to rediscover,
the art of true living.

Born from the ashes,
the red rose blooms in the summer,
and from the thorns,
I bleed the same color red.

Overwhelmed

Shades of crimson red –
I stretch out my hand,
to be covered in blood.
Hues of gold intertwine,
with the branches of the vine,
where grapes spill juice,
that lands like dew on my face.
My moist lips taste like honey,
surprising me,
with the many sensations,
my mind has to process.
My arms embrace myself,
to give warmth to my heart,
confused with the aromas,
tickling my nostrils.
Dizzying is the information,
I receive in this short,
but powerful moment in time.
My eyes are unable to focus,
on the essential elements,
trying to seek my attention.
So, I close my eyes,
empty my mind,
and shut my ears,
to become one with silence,
where I hear you speak,
in the soft whisper,
in the silent breeze.
In order to find my way,
I must learn to trust,
that the right way,
will eventually,
find me!

The Change

Life changes in every season,
like the colors in autumn,
change from green to yellow,
until they let go and fall,
allowing the heart to be,
reborn in the spring.

It is an inescapable process,
all life on earth experiences,
during their existence,
where the heart changes,
and the mind finds a way,
between the fallen acorns.

Nerves, like fingers,
stretch out to the sky,
like the heart stretches herself,
out to the heart of God,
where she finds peace,
in the soft autumn breeze.

The yellow trees,
beside this forest road,
protect her with their arches,
during these rotating seasons,
as she learns to see the blessings,
in the changes of the leaves.

This photo and poem belongs to me: Gineke van Keulen. If you want to use it, ask first! Thank you!

Dancing in the rain

The rain has created pools of water,
for me to jump in with my yellow boots.
My red umbrella I hold high above my head,
as I move my feet through the mud,
jumping around as if I am making pirouettes.
The thick rain drops slowly land on my face,
as a smile curves my lips and erupts into laughter.
My heart is a child again if only for a minute,
growing younger by every passing second.
For that is what silliness does to the soul,
it turns around the aging process,
cleaning the mind of all negative thoughts,
as it begins to feel alive again –
a clean slate where all the dirt is washed away.
Born again like a butterfly from a cocoon,
is the metamorphosis that comes from laughter.
The laughter that springs from deep within the earth,
like a geyser that erupts his steam in full force.
If only we could let go of the adult inside of us,
forcing us to behave a different way than we feel,
only because this is asked of us in a cripple society.
I spread my arms as if I fly like the birds in the sky,
as I feel the wind brushing my hair in waves,
allowing me to feel free from all that is holding me,
all that is imprisoning my emotional state of mind.
To be a child again is a gift to the soul,
where we learn to let go of the adult inside,
to discover that it is not too late to feel alive.

Our first love

Our first love

The wonder of birth,
will never cease to amaze me.
With one gasp of air,
we become one with life –
the first of many choices,
we will ever make on earth.

We breathe,
because we love,
and because we love,
we breathe.

Love and life are connected,
more than we ever realize.
Without life we cannot love,
and without love,
we cannot live our life.

If love is so important,
so vital in our circle of life,
why then do we love so little?

We put ourselves first,
without considering,
that an empty world,
leaves us desolate.

When we are born,
we love our mother.
Without that love,
we die.
Why then do we believe,
we can live alone,
for the rest of our life?

A life without people,
is an empty life,
for only through people,
we can learn,
the most selfless love,
that has ever existed.

To learn the depths of love,
we must be willing,
to look beyond ourselves.
For in the beginning of life,
we did not love ourselves first,
NO,
our first love,
belonged to our mother.

For most of my life, I was bullied, emotionally abused, rejected, and I had/have so little friends that I believed that I was better off alone. This year nearly took my life, not by COVID-19 but by loneliness. When one is rejected and alone for so long, one can get the idea that life alone is the only option. That is why I always said to myself, “It is me and God against the world”, believing there was nobody out there for me. But during the pandemic, I have learned that this is a lie. Humans are created to live together in whatever shape or size that is. The walls are slowly coming down around me and even though I am still finding my place in this life, the growth I have experienced was necessary and so important. That was the sole reason for this poem. Nobody is supposed to live a life alone! No one! And yet, there are so many, like me, who face this struggle every day. I am so blessed with my immediate family but there are those who have no one! Let us take the coming holiday season to look out for those who are alone! Give them something to look forward to. Give them love, a place at your table, a place in your life. You have no idea what it will mean to them! xox Gineke.

The dance of the starlings

The dance of  the starlings

As the content of my soul,
is spilled on the white marble floor,
the history of nature forces me,
to let her guide me along the way.  
Through the raindrops I fall down.
Through the fog I rise again,
but the sun remains behind the clouds,
until time is ready to show her off again.
Rainbows bring hope and promises,
of new beginnings and better times,
where the grass is finally greener,
on my side of the meadows,
and where birds joyfully fly.
Life has an art of falling and rising,
like the dance of starlings in the sky,
where one never knows the next step,
but the heart always follows the rhythm of the music,
the soul plays at that particular time.
As my arms spread and my hands open,
I catch the first raindrops of the season,
bringing the joy of my heart to the surface.
However dark the seasons are,
the knowledge of what is ahead,
softens the cracks in my broken heart,
teaching me that the negative will never last.
So, even when I do not know the future,
or what my next step on this road will be,
love is teaching me that greatest endurance,
is learning to dance in the pouring rain,
for the future that is already in sight.

Roots

Roots

Roots dig deep,
at the rivershore,
laying a firm foundation,
for the old cottage.
The water rises,
the wind blows through the trees,
bowing and breaking the branches,
but the roots do not give in.
As the sun sets behind the horizon,
the country roads become dark,
and the foxes come out of their holes to play,
still the roots protect the house,
for whatever is built on love,
will never fall,
and whoever relies,
on this firm foundation,
will find goodness,
for the rest of his life.