Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!

Finding my way out…

Day 30. This prompt challenges you to write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place. 

This quote is very meaningful to me because it happened. I found people who have lead me out of the forest of sorrow..

“Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

I inhabited a place
where darkness thickens
the density of form
when grief was stricken.
and I rode the waves of unwanted fear,
covered the ground
with constant tears…

And you lead me out of the catacombs,
showed me the wonders
I had always known,
guided by the radiance
of unseen paths,
I became familiar with life’s contrasts!

the compass of faith was shown to me,
co-ordinates of grace
where I wanted to be,

and I lay in the foliage
looking up
at the skies,
open to the magic behind my eyes.
drinking in the light of honeyed-rays
I allowed sorrow
to slowly

and I gratefully returned
to Divine love,
to the miracle of hope
and the stirring of
a heart that is healed by kind intent,
to the motion of joy
that I re-invent…


Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!

Fire in the Mother City…

Day 29. This one is called “in the window.” Imagine a window looking into a place or onto a particular scene.

Recently there was a terrible fire on Devil’s peak, students had to evacuate their residences,
a restaurant and a valuable library at the university were badly affected by the fire. It took firefighters two days to put it out.

The story came out that a man on the mountain had lit the fire and they arrested him. When the officers got to him, he admitted lighting the fire.

It turns out that this was a man from Tanzania who had come to Cape Town to study at the University of technology and he hadn’t got his study visa, so he lived in a make shift plastic shelter on the slopes of the mountain, living from hand to mouth, just above the residential area.

He was released on bail just recently and as he came out of court with his pro-bono lawyer his eyes welled up with tears. He was not an arsonist, just a man who had no home and he had made a fire to cook his food and keep warm.

Sadly, the fire got out of control and caused a lot of damage, probably something he will have to live with for the rest of his life, but he is not a criminal in my eyes.

It got me to thinking that we should look into the windows of people’s lives and see what is really going on. People are so quick to judge and condemn without actually knowing the bigger picture, and there always is one.

Fire has a way of bringing out an abundance of kindness and generosity in humans.
There was an outpouring of help for those students who were stranded, free meals at restaurants, donations of water, medical supplies and food for the fire fighters.
I am always awestruck by humans and how ready they are to help in times of need.
It gives me a window into the beautiful heart of this city.

I looked through the window of his life
I saw his pain I saw the strife
I felt the need to comfort him
to bring him back from the brink

To offer forgiveness and a safe return
to give him the grace that he deserves…

and I saw the firemen fighting the flames
I felt the horror of
ashen remains.
I watched students with tears streaming down,
running for their lives
with smoke all around.
I peered into the vaults of treasured works
I understood the sorrow
the deepest hurt.

the flames spread into a run-away fire,
and in it’s wake
great love transpired.
humans came from everywhere
bringing light and hope to a city’s despair!

Photo by David Harrison..

Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!


Day 28…the home run….
This is my interpretation of writing a poem about questions….

“You keep track of all my sorrows
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.”
Psalm 56:8

Stephen is the one on the right

I remember the day my son died; it’s like a painful groove inside me,
it’s not something I will ever forget.
I think my heart stopped that day.
The world became very still, though I can recall the sun shining.
I lay on my bedroom floor hidden behind the bed and blocking my ears.
I wanted to shut the world out in that moment, my body was numb.
I never asked God why my son was taken, it’s a strange thing.
It’s as though my soul knew and my body was trying to catch up.

That day I told God that I didn’t hate him, I repeated it over and over again,
like a mantra.
Perhaps I was afraid of falling into an abyss, you know that place of bitterness
that is hard to return from.

Since then I feel as though I’ve been guided by something/someone
greater than myself, I have been shown great mercy and given light.
Somehow I still don’t question God, it was as though I was prepared for this time.
I have learned so much since my son changed worlds.
I’ve delved into stories about near death experiences, and read up on soul plans.
There is so much peace to be found in knowing that love has directed my course.
We as humans often question the suffering of the world, it breaks our hearts every day.

Some days I wake up crying because my son is not physically present
and for a time I let the pain engulf me, but I always hear his voice through the tears
telling me that he is still with me.
He wouldn’t want me to be sad for too long but tears and sadness are part of my healing.

I had a vision of him once..
“he was at the end of a small creek with large jar collecting water,
he had flowers in his hair. He told me that the jar was filled with tears.
He threw some of the tears up in the air and they became glistening crystals of light.
From a distance I could see him bending down to collect the tears.
He communicated to me that his job was to collect tears, because he hadn’t taken my tears seriously while he was here on earth and God was teaching him the preciousness of tears.
After he collected them, he had to gaze into each one of them and see their power and beauty and all the sadness and joy of the world that made up the oceans of Heaven.
He said that they were more beautiful than he had ever known and he began to realize how precious tears were, God’s treasury.”

These are some of the reasons why I don’t question God about my son’s death?
He is in a place beyond all imagination!

Thank you for reading, these stories are the reason my life is bearable…


Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!

The wonders I’ve seen!

Day 27. Getting in touch with feelings…tears can be sad or joyful.
I’ve also shed many tears of gratitude!

If my tears
must fall
may they be
as bright
as morning dew,
covering the ground
like sparkling jewels.

filling the spaces
where wildness
has been,
pouring forth
in gratitude
for the wonders I’ve seen!


Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!

Twinkle twinkle…

Day 26. The challenge is to write a parody…

twinkle twinkle heavy dew
how I wonder what you do
enticing me in muted sun
sparkly fields are so much fun
twinkle twinkle heavy dew
how I admire what you do

shining in the brave of day
misty meadows shades of grey
plonking down on soggy grass
now I’ve gone and wet my ass
twinkle twinkle heavy dew
now I’m thoroughly soaked through!


Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!

Wedding feast…

Day 25. The poem you write can be for an occasion in the past or the future, one important to you and your family… 

in the
of eloquent tunes,
she caught his gaze,
he naturally

heavenly visions
the air,
and sighing
in charming flair…

swept by
a stream
of delicate chords
two lovers
in one accord…

and they basked in
the light of a
resonant glow,
expressing tenderly
how love


Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!


Day 23. Write a poem that responds, in some way, to another. This could be as simple as using a line or image from another poem as a jumping-off point.

*“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
and I bent
in worship
was colored with praise.
in sacred presence
I beheld their gaze
and in the silence
that knew my pain,
I surrendered!
and was born-again!

*I wrote this in response to Mary Oliver’s poem “the uses of sorrow”
for there are so many…

Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!


Day 22. Write a poem that invokes a specific object as a symbol of a particular time, era, or place.

I visit the landscape of childhood
imprinted with golden light

barefaced against the skies
baobabs stand monumental in my memory

the scribbled pages of youth
glow in soft moods of yesterday

remembering only blue backdrops and a yellow sun
bare limbs stretched out across the azure
they will forever hold my secret longing

their bulky presence beckons me back to those halcyon days
when life was simple and joy was unfinished…

I have carved my name
into the bark of these dreams
where even the rocks have called for my return

perhaps in another life
the soil of these memories
will be satisfied…

Image courtesy of PixaBay

This is a reworked piece, a memorable time
when I was a child and lived in Zimbabwe,
these imposing trees dotted the landscape.
They still remind me of that time and that place!

Posted in NaPoWriMo...30 poems in 30 days!


Day 19. The challenge is to write a humorous rant.

I want to have a rant
about ants
there are far too many ants
carrying heaps of sand
taking over lands
they think they own the place
they are such a disgrace
tickling me at night
giving me a fright
they are all around the house
worse when there’s a drought
this is a little rant
about ants
crowding over plants
a long trail of ants
from the bathroom
up the walls
walking down the halls
they don’t seem to care
loitering everywhere
but I don’t kill ants
I give them a chance
just a little sprinkle of cinnamon
sends them away
they don’t like the taste
hatching their plans
to take over the world
they don’t seem concerned
about the virus
or this crisis
these ants
they’re making me prance
I’m so over ants

I’d rather have a butterfly
floating through the house
or somewhere thereabouts…