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!

The Dragon

The anger that resides,
in the depths of my soul,
is like a sleeping dragon,
waiting to come out,
of his peaceful hibernation.
I have learned to tip-toe,
around the branches,
of my own youth,
where demons are still,
whispering lies,
in the shadows of the forest,
that seems so hollow,
compared to summer meadows,
where I forced my heart to grow.
The fear of the unknown,
of the dragon waking up,
keeps me on the watchtower,
looking across borders,
where the real enemy,
never resides.
The dragon always hides,
in the heart of the soul,
that needs to discover,
the strength within.
I am a warrior,
fighting against myself,
and all I have to do,
to slay the dragon,
is to find the heart,
of my own soul,
inside myself!  

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!

With the stains on my dress!

A fog covers the moors,
I can barely see the raven,
fly across the land.
The first sunbeams cover,
the dew covered earth,
and I look down at my bare feet.
Purple heather slowly opens,
millions of petals in my eyes,
and my soul comes back to life.
I feel like a child again,
with the deep desire to dance,
in the warmth of the sun,
that illuminates my heart.
Hope is a bird that flies,
off to the horizon,
into the light that shines,
in the distance.
The earth covers my feet,
making it heart to keep,
my white dress clean,
yet in this moment,
of morning glory,
I realize the essence,
of pure, heartfelt joy.
The stains on my heart,
are not the end of my soul,
but only the beginning,
of more and more joy!

Midwinter

A rose blooms in the snow,
gently caressed by the sun,
who softly strikes the petals with her fingers.
Below ground life prepares itself,
for new changes in the spring,
as the acorns are looking for their owners.
I cry like an eagle across the Grand Canyon,
searching for water between the deep cliffs,
but the light feeds me from the inside.
My wings dance in the sky,
where my feet make pirouettes on thin ice.
Faith is believing in the greatest outcome,
like a rose blooming in midwinter!

All poetry posted on this page is mine! Please ask before using!
Thank you!

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.

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!

Renewal

Renewal

The devaluation of life,
breaks even the strongest heart,
but when the honeycomb breaks –
crushed in the palm of my hand,
the soul lives a lifetime longer,
and the heart learns to live,
in the renewal of the mind.

Crushed stones become a pathway,
carrying the feet of an entire nation,
where not even the dirt my feet,
can stop me from laughing,
the tears down my cheeks,
until my soul is dancing in the desert.

Enlightenment

Poppies grow in an open meadow,
where my bare feet walk the high grass.
The soft wind brushes my hair,
and tickles my skin until I have goosebumps.
I sway my white dress on the sound,
of soft piano music playing in the background,
and I smile like the sun shining in the sky.
Happiness is a feeling of peace and light,
born deep in the heart in the middle of spring.
Choices cause us to grow like wildflowers –
like poppies they drench us in our own blood,
until we shine brighter than the great eastern sun.
I choose to be happy in this moment,
where the summer smiles at me,
in the silence of complete solitude.
I find a place under a tree on the hill,
where I sit down and meditate,
so I can hold onto to this moment a little longer.
My hands are open ready to receive,
the greatest blessing Heaven can give me,
but in this moment of patient waiting,
I learn to close my eyes and feel the Spirit,
whispering softly in the summer winds.
As I gently flutter my eye-lids open,
the red poppies smile at me,
as they fill me with the deepest peace.
Letting go of the past and the future,
forces me to live in the moment of this day,
where I learn to dance in the rain,
with my arms and my heart wide open,
until every cell is filled the deepest sense of joy.
And in this moment of pure enlightenment,
I learn that the cross is never heavier,
than my own heart can bare,
and that my heart is so much stronger,
than I could ever imagine!