The Song of my Spirit

The voice of my spirit,

carries across the hills,

until a white dove,

brings a fresh branche,

back to me.

Life begins with a call –

a breath in our lungs,

and a song in our hearts,

that changes Mozart’s music,

into Celtic melodies.

Ever-changing,

our footsteps mark the grass,

on the green Scottish hills,

where the sun sets before me,

and I am released to the stars.

But that strong call of my spirit,

will carry me through the ages,

for in the light of God,

the song of my spirit,

Will never stop singing!

Homebody

Where I lay my focus,

my heart makes a home,

to create,

either peace,

or absolute chaos,

and my world,

becomes like a solar system,

where everything turns,

like the planets,

around one sun,

forgetting that even a Milky Way,

is part of something,

greater than herself!

So, if I want to make a home,

in a place that lasts forever,

I have to lay my focus,

on something greater than myself,

where humility will teach me,

that when I am not in control,

the greatest peace will find me,

right in my own home!

Fallen petals grow!

Pink rose buds

covered in raindrops

like diamonds

dressing a woman.

Her bare skin exposed

against the elements

of the current season

waiting for the light

to make her bloom.

She dances on the wind

with her pink dress

swirling on the melodies

of angels singing.

Until one by one

her petals fall

into the hands of God

where love nourishes

them back to life

and growth starts

all over again!

Romeo & Juliet

I throw a penny,

deep into a well,

to make a pink rose bloom,

between the ivy,

that climbs these Italian walls.

The sandstone buildings,

smaller than my fist,

hide unfamiliar faces,

who drown my heart,

in love and kindness.

Three-dimensional worlds,

from the pages,

of a fairytale storybook,

bring Romeo and Juliet,

back to the land of the living.

And just like that,

a penny in a well,

becomes a wish upon a star,

and ultimately,

and answered prayer.

This poem, and all the other poems on this page belong to Gineke van Keulen. When you want to use them, ask first! Thank you!

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!

Bouldering

I carry rocks,
like a body builder,
showing off strength,
but in the shadows,
where the lens,
cannot see me,
I climb them,
instead.
Bouldering,
rock after rock,
until the muscles,
of my fragile heart,
have grown strong.
I keep on climbing,
knowing that,
the great Chinese wall,
was not build,
in one single day.
My soul alike,
cannot be build,
in a moment.
Strength takes time,
and as the clock ticks,
I concentrate,
merely on the next,
positions of my hands,
so my feet can follow,
where the rope leads,
to the top,
of my ability.