Life Imitating Art

Posted on March 3, 2010. Filed under: Poetry, Short Stories | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |

 – “Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”  Pablo Picasso –

Everyday, hundreds came to see the artist at work.

He was phenomenal to watch. He would put his heart and soul into every piece. People stood in awe of his deeply meaningful work. He was extremely focused whilst painting and would not be distracted by the noises around him. The people passing by, the sounds of car horns and traffic, the sounds of children playing in the nearby park.

No, nothing would distract him.

This place was his sanctuary. Yes, it was a pavement in one of the busiest streets in the city, but to the artist, it was peace.

He never answered any questions. Never spoke, never looked up or around.

His paintings were truly personal. And because he never spoke, nobody knew what his works were about. What were his paintings trying to say? What were they about?

Yet to everyone who came across his work, each was touched in a very different way. Some were made happier for seeing a piece of his art. Some of his works made people think about their lives. Some people felt his work had changed their lives, making them feel love again or giving them the ability to dream. His work touched many – directly and indirectly.

This one day in the city was like any other day.

He arrived at his spot on the street. Sat down and began to paint.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Those around him. Stood still. They looked a little concerned for the artist as he seemed to show no sign of movement. One person called out to him, ‘are you ok?’ Another asked, ‘why have you stopped?’

He slowly turned to them, stood up and put down his tools.

They stood perfectly still. Waiting to hear from him, finally.

Looking around at each of them, he said, ‘I’ve stopped because I’m done.’

He picked up his things and walked away.

Turning to each other, they looked confused.

They then began to walk away. Each of them walking into their own lives.

© 

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As If I Only Had Today

Posted on February 23, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , |

One day, a day that changed my life, happened.

Yes, the greatest thing happened to me on this day.
It was the day I realised I don’t hold tomorrow.

The day I realised those I love will be lost.
And those I lost, I may have actually loved.

It was a day that I looked ahead of me;
In front of me,
And only saw now.

This day I stood still and felt the earth move.

On this day, my plans for tomorrow turned into goals for today.

The day I realised it’s all or nothing.
Half hearted just doesn’t cut it.

It was a day I put down the baggage,
And walked away with nothing.
Happy.

On this day I looked and really saw.

It was a day I stopped caring so much about me in others eyes,
And started to care about me in my own!

It was on this day I sat down and realised it all happens for a reason or a season.
Simple.

This day, I knew that worrying is a pointless act.
It may or may not happen.
Either way, worrying does nothing for it.

Yes, on this day I realised I don’t hold tomorrow,
So let me do well with embracing today.

©

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It’s Child’s Play

Posted on January 29, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

 

As grown as I am,
Sometimes I don’t want to be.

I love to be me.
I like being me.
I just want to be the child that I used to be.

Just for a day.

I wish I could play all day,
And only stop when night blankets me.

I wish I could laugh at anything, anywhere;
Drawing smiles, not stares.

I want to be free to act silly;
And silly is all it would be.

I would ask questions about the sky, universe, monsters and sea creatures,
And dream I explored these as such.

I would ask about love,
And hope to find it.

I’d say all I want to say with the freedom to do so,
“I love you”
“I hate you”
“I’m not your friend”
Oh, how free I would be.

I’d do something for the fun of it,
Not concerned with financial gain.
Not concerned with personal ruin.

Just for a day.

Esteem would be high,
Self consciousness, put to rest.

I’d see right through the false,
And steer towards the beautiful soul in others.
Knowing well those who mean me harm,
Knowing even better those who have nothing but love.

Adventure would be my middle name;
Fear would have no place here.

Returning home to the unconditional love,
Re-fuelling my mind, body and my spirit.
Ready to explore another time.

Just for a day.

Oh, just for a day.

©

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A Perfect Realisation

Posted on January 23, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

When all around you are losing their heads, you maintain yours.
Taking pride in your grip.

With a dedication to strength and a will for survival; you’re a rock.
Nothing can move you.
Nothing penetrates.

You are refined by fire,
Sweat-less by its heat.
Unhurt by its power.

Hardened to some, yet purely withstanding to you.
You understand what needs to be done and do it you will.

You fight everyday for perfection, or near enough.
You cannot tolerate defeat. Loss is not in your vocabulary.
Your unflinching demeanour scares others,
Leaving others in awe.
And is, quite simply, astonishing.

Then you break.
I see it in you,
I know you’ve hit.

You refuse to let go.
Refuse to relinquish control.

Stop fighting, I say.
You’re working too hard.

Let things go,
You can’t own it all.

It’s Ok, It’s human and I totally understand.

Perfection is a dream, I say.
So wake up!

And then I wake up.
And then I’m free.

And then I realise what a perfect day this will be.
©

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Vision To BEautiful

Posted on January 6, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , |

Your Past Does Not Determine Your Future.

I stare at what I think is real to me;
The reality is mangled and tangled within me of what was.

I fear I can’t understand the truth that is set before me.
It’s that fear that paralyzes me.

The fear of not knowing where I stand;
Not knowing where I will be standing.

For if I knew, if I really knew where I was heading,
I would’ve packed. I would have made ready.

But because I don’t know my makers plans,
I prepare only that is myself for this wonderful journey; hold on tight and stare in awe at the view.

Stupidity will rob me if I close my eyes on this ride.
How else will I know where I’m going if I’ve missed the route.

I have to,
I must open my eyes.
No matter how afraid I am.
I smile.

Because the vision of what is to be is a Beautiful one.

©

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Dream Lover

Posted on January 4, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , |

He is the sweetest thing in this sour universe,
And my soul reaps the benefits of his care and wisdom.

The time is now and my thoughts drift to tomorrow.
The enchanting sorrow of what was lost now is found.

In the heaving sound of my heart, he knows no bounds;
He plays with me.
Teasing me.

His smile, his eyes;
The smoothest skin – mental foreplay!

This, which withstands all, is what I need and what he gives;
So sane is his manner that this man drives me crazy.

This hazy crazy yet crazy with desire;
And oh that fire!

No matter what.
No matter where.
No matter when.
Should I say that he has my all or should I play it cool?

He stands perfect. 
He is desire.
The want of women yet with my heart in his hands.

He is straight talking and mystery seeps through his skin.
Yet me, he lets in.

He is a pearl.
Perhaps a rough diamond.

Smoothed by the evils of this world that value has not decreased

Contrary to what I may tell him I feel;
What I feel for him is LOVE. 

©

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I Sleep On Satin Pillows

Posted on January 2, 2010. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , |

I sleep on satin pillows,
When I dream of you.
Your love is authentic.
Your touch is innocent with wicked passion behind.

I go to you when I’m in a horrible place.
Not knowing that I’ve always felt this way.
You’re tender when you tease; I love your cheeky smile.
You have me laughing at your mischievous ways.

I sleep on satin pillows,
You take me away.
You’re my escape plan.
My secret getaway.

I lay down in your masculine embrace,
And wonder for nothing.
I’m overwhelmed by this strange feeling of peace.
Of security, of acceptance. Of love.

This is what it should feel like.
This is how it should be.

I sleep on satin pillows.
As the sun hits off our skin.
I fall asleep to your voice.
And angels, real angels, hover above.

And now I am your angel.
I am treasured and treated divine.
And I hope I can sleep on satin pillows forever.
With you.

©

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This Place

Posted on December 11, 2009. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , , , |

I walk from where I can’t remember.
Forgetting why I came, but remembering why I am here.

Its peaceful, loneliness, fills me with comforting warmth.

I undress and bathe, then dress in the garments it’s laid out for me.
I stand and look over the landscape. Beauty in front of me, behind me, all around me.
I gaze for what feels like years out onto this mirage and everything leaves me.

I am finally at peace as I begin to walk and enjoy my surroundings.

Never wanting or wishing for anything, just – loving.

I lay down as it all washes over me, engulfing me, making me a part.

I want to live here for ever. If only…

I dare not open my eyes in case the landing is painful.

I touch all that is near and feel all that is around me.

My soul has taken on a new meaning and I stand here, naked and free; so free.

Not once wondering. Without a care. Without a thought. Just. Allowed to be.

I have to leave this dream; paradise. My life calls for me.

But, I will be back here, I promise. I promise.

©

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2 Months

Posted on December 11, 2009. Filed under: Short Stories | Tags: , , , , , |

‘Congratulations, you’re a Dad’, the nurse said with the biggest grin known to man. ‘How do you feel?’
I hesitated, then realising I hesitated, I stuttered, ‘Dunno. I’m… in shock’.

The nurse looked at me. Hard. As though I were the most difficult maths problem she has ever come across. ‘Good shocked?’
‘Yeah, no, good shocked. Definitely good shocked’, I said. ‘I’m a Dad! A Dad! Me!’ I stood up slowly, trying to get my balance. Facing the doors that separated me from my dream: my perfect little family. My beautiful and loving wife, my beautiful baby boy. Well he’s not so much a baby now as he is a 10-year-old miniature version of me, so you can imagine he’s a good-looking boy! And the reason, the sole reason we are all here – and I mean all here: my parents, her parents, my brother 2 sisters, their kids and I think one of my sisters’ new man of the moment – my beautiful new baby girl.

On walking in I can smell the heat and an aroma which I can only describe as medical. I think nothing of the fact that there’s blood on sheets and the midwife is sweating buckets. You see, I couldn’t be in here whilst my wife was going through all that. I tried, believe me, I tried. But the midwife (and my wife who practically chucked me out) thought it best I wait outside. You know, like they used to do back in the day.

I lean down to kiss my wife on the head. She looks up at me in this real sweet but tired way that says, ‘I love you and I love our new baby daughter, but since you’re here now take her from me cos I want to sleep’. I smile, almost having read her mind and lean in to grab my baby girl.

She’s beautiful. Angelic. Sweet scented and so lightweight. She opens her eyes to look up at me. I kiss her on the forehead and kiss her so delicate fingers.

I touch her nose and then.

I open my eyes.

No.

Not again.

Please God, please.

I can’t take this.

Please God not again.

Why then. Just then.

Can’t take it.

Can’t do this.

I start to cry. Sob uncontrollably.

My head hurts from this continuous never-ending nightmare.

I look around. And close my painful eyes.

‘2 more months’, I tell myself.

2 more months and I’ll be out of here.
2 more months and I’ll be free.
2 more months. These bars will no longer hold me.
2 more months and my dream will be a reality.

©

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When I was Young

Posted on December 9, 2009. Filed under: Poetry | Tags: , , |

When I was young…
I dreamt of a world of love and happiness; peace and calm.
One where I could be Me. Allowed to be different and loved for that the same.
No judgment or condemnation from those who do not know.
I dreamt of having what I wanted and if that wasn’t possible, I dreamt that I could have what I dreamt of; at the least.
I dreamt of working hard for the love of it.
Living with others and loving their differences.

I would dream of never ending stories and day dreams that actually played out.
I dreamt that intentional hurt was a fable and unintentional pain was forgivable.
I dreamt that I wouldn’t need to dream anymore but live the dream.

When I was young, I didn’t know what I know now.

I still dream, but now I have to.

©

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