beauty

red helium heart balloon – a poem for a cousin’s birthday

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I was thinking of your birthday;
‘A helium balloon!’  I cried to myself
(internally as there was no one
around to hear me).

I waited til the day before
to buy it as I did not want
even a sniff of helium to escape
or bring it too soon
down to earth.

That day, I forgot where
the helium balloon shop was
had to double back on myself.

I walked in triumphant
‘A birthday balloon’, I asked the
shop assistant.  The store was
filled with valentines

that crowded out the ‘normal range’.
I didn’t think you would like
a balloon loudly proclaiming ’40!!!!!’
or Olaf or the one from Planes.

A momentary qualm assailed me;
was my helium balloon plan to be
thwarted by the patron saint of love?

On the contrary!  The saint of love
smiled down fondly; a red heart
helium balloon perfectly fit the brief.

a heart for love,
a heart for hopes and dreams,
a heart for passions and adventures,
a heart for you.

‘Oh, that one please, on the
longest red string!’  The jaunty
foil heart balloon reached boldly to the sky.

I could not bear to
imprison it in a plastic carrier.
It is not what helium balloons
were made for.

I basked in the smiles of passers-by
as I wended my way home
thinking of your birthday.

‘She will be so pleased!’  I said
to myself.  ‘No one else will have
thought of such a thing.’

The happy balloon, full of love
and excitement, bobbed up and down,
couldn’t wait to meet you.

It was a windy day; perhaps I should have been wiser.
In a moment, the companion attached to my wrist
was gone.

Oh!  I looked up: A red heart took flight
into the street, up, up,
above the silver birch tree lines.

Up, up, UP, riding thermals beyond
the multi-storey car park.
Up consorting with the seagulls.

I saw it last as it bobbed behind
the church spire; a heart and a cross.
To infinity and beyond.

I wanted to give a heart
for your birthday – for love, for hopes,
for passion, for you.

But the heart wanted to give you a poem,
Show you that your hopes and dreams soared to
dance with the angels,
to mingle with the stars.

Show you that the heart is free;
and alive and full of grace
and beauty.

That nothing can hold it back.

I long for stars

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I long for stars,
look up and yearn for height,
brilliance,
light
and beauty.

Here in the humdrum
I am lucky if I get to dazzle
for even a moment.

I look down,
stepping carefully
to avoid pavement cracks
and bears.

There is a fog
of confusion
everywhere.
People proffer answers
to questions they
barely understand.

I long for stars;
we were kindred spirits
once.
Where did we lose
ourselves?

I concentrate on
simple tasks.
Stuck in skin,
I wrestle ceaselessly,
ceaselessly restless.
People tell me to
calm down.

I long for stars;
we are quantumly
entangled. Paired
for eternity, our
subatomic particles
duet.

I long for stars.
Waves of homesickness
overcome me.

I long for stars.

seaside sunset

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Seaside sunset,
setting
setting,
cloud.

Shapes, shadows shift,
surf splashes,
seagulls
screech.

setting
setting

Silently secrets
settle.

Silhouettes stop,
sunlight shimmers.

setting
setting

Sounds soften,
speakers shush.

setting
setting

gone.

extraplorer 2015

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There’s no doubt about it, one of the highlights of 2014 was starting extraplorer, and even though I have had a few lean writing weeks (which coincide with fat everything-else weeks), I have loved being able to post over Christmas when and where I have had a moment of inspiration or observation.

extraplorer has taught me a lot in the just under three months that I have been posting.  In my first post, ‘teetering’ I wrote about the moment that a small child lets go of the furniture they have been using to navigate walking (confining them to a world of edges of things) and takes a first independent step.  extraplorer really has helped me to grow in confidence with my writing.  It has been so wonderful to have a quiet space to try out things.  My WordPress ‘Annual Report 2014’ filled me with joy and delight, despite the modesty of its successes.

It is not only the passion for the piano that opens doors.  Being able to say that I ‘write found poems’ or ‘have a blog’ has opened doors too, including being given a personal escort to take photos in a ‘no photography’ exhibition, and an incredible cosy chat with a local goldsmith.

I don’t want to weigh down extraplorer with hopes, or expectations or even resolutions for 2015, but one thing I have realised is that extraplorer acts as a kind of barometer of how much space I am making for myself to be myself.  It’s not that my other roles aren’t me, but there is something special about the quiet moment at home, or in a foreign cafe, where I sit down and open my laptop and begin to write.  There is something deep about myself that comes to the fore then, which is not always fully present at other times, or which I am not present to.

My wish for extraplorer is to continue to grow in courage and curiosity, to be open to new and old truths, to be alert to beauty wherever it may be found.  And as extraplorer helps me to grow myself and my writing, I want to extend my reach in sharing this with the world.

five christmas luxuries

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breaths of free fresh air on a countryside run after a day of indoors chitchat

the patience of six adults watching reruns of a hastily-composed small nephew and niece nativity (‘again’, ‘now you be a shepherd’, ‘you need to tap people on the head to count them’.)

the first faint roar of a real fire you made yourself

a family friend dropping in simply to give their last unused sheet of luxury christmas wrapping paper – thick, quality white almost-card, dusted with a sprinkling of dainty gold christmas trees, topped with a red star – because they thought someone might appreciate it (they did).

a still moment, between family visits, in which to write even a little