Advent Poetry 1

Posted on by estlh

Last year I tried doing a poem a day during advent – I had found a poetry prompt advent calender online. Bur I only managed about 6 before I got too busy with all of the other pre  Christmas tasks. This year I didn’t even start until a week in, but hopefully I can fit in more than last year in the next 16 days.

The first prompt was “Once upon a December” so this is what I wrote

Once upon a December night
When sky was dark but stars were bright
I took your hand and gave a smile,
We lost the whole world for a while
That frosty cold December night

Once upon a December eve
As snowflakes settled on my sleeve
We danced beneath the sky, care free.
So cold but happy as could be
That cheery crisp December eve

Once upon a December morning
As carols told of Christ child born
You took my hand and asked of me
myself, while down on bended knee.
Oh such happy December morn

Once upon a December day
While children wait to see the sleigh
You smile at them then pull me near
To breath devotion in my ear
This joyful bright December day



Stronger than I think

Posted on by estlh

You aspired to silence me;
To still my tongue
And prevent the telling of my tale.


For a while I acquiesced,
My passion gone,
Crushed by the demands of solitude.

I lay mute and diffident
And languished long
In lethargic denial of strength.


But do not think that you have won,
Have gained your end
And doused the fire that burns within me.


For though the embers grow dim
New breath brings life,
Reigniting flames that grow once more.


My voice will be heard again
Like none before
Bursting forth, my song will carry truth


To all who have hearts open to hear.

Mask

Posted on by estlh

Over the years my self-confidence has waxed and waned many a time.  I am glad to say that with the psssage of time this has happened with less frequency and mostly decreasing extremes. As time goes by I am increasingly comfortable in my own skin and less focused on what others (may or may not) think of me. After all, I am who God made me to be and I seek to embrace my identity as one of His children. I am still very much a fan of wearing makeup, but I am no longer reliant on it as a mask that allows me to face the world. This poem is one that was written at a time when my self-confidence was definitely waning.


I am not myself today
I have come out without my face.
In all the rush of this morning it was
Overlooked.
At first I was happy in my ignorance.
All it took was one look.
The fleeting question in the eye of a
casual acquaintance
Told me all was not as it usually is.
As the realisation dawned I was horrified,
and bowed my head in shame.
I had allowed someone in.
Allowed someone to see the real me
in all it’s painful colours.
And yet for that momentary flicker
I would have gone about my day
uncowed by self judgment or derisory expectations.
So my feet are getting all my attention today
as I withdraw
to ignore
this beautiful life in which I play
a reluctant part

4.4.24

Posted on by estlh

Day four of the poetry prompt advent calendar and the prompt was “unseen presence”.

You are here
Beside me always.
I know you are with me
And though I may not see you
When I stop and breathe
I feel your presence.
When I lie quiet in the darkness
Your unseen arms enfold me
And I hear your whisper in my ear.

You are the peace I know in the midst of the chaos.
You are the beauty I find when all around is spoiled.
You are the hope I find when the darkness descends.
And when I feel ugly you remind me of my true beauty.

How sad that too often my eyes are blind to what you show
How sad that my ears sometimes close to your words of comfort
How sad that the petty distractions of the world oft obscure your truth
And when worried I often forget that your hands hold me

But still, I know that your patient love is mine forever
Your presence with me, though unseen, is eternal truth

Twisted

Posted on by estlh

I have a stash of old notebooks full of thoughts and scribblings. Some pages hold just odd lines or paragraphs, some poems I have maybe just started and never finished. And some have finished poems that I have long forgotten writing, or have never shown to anyone. I can lose hours reading back through these notebooks. Sometimes I am looking for inspiration – to take a line or a half finished poem and make something of it. But also I get lost in memories. Many of my poems, especially the older ones are really just me putting my feelings down on paper. As I read them I can remember what I was doing when I wrote them, or why I was feeling a certain way. I can also see how I have changed over the years – how as I have grown my perspective has changed and my confidence grown. This poem was written at a period when I was lacking in self confidence and was a bit of a social chameleon.

I twisted myself up

I turned round and round

and got all tangled.

And then I had to unwind myself,

the other way round and round.

And when I fell on my behind

it wasn’t funny;

it hurt.

Even though I deceived you

when I sat there and laughed.

But the tears that rolled

down my reddened cheeks

were not the result of a

burst of hysteria.

My eyes all screwed up,

the tears fell from

sudden pain.

If only

Posted on by estlh

If only days were dreams
And all not as it seems
If only time would fly
The hours racing by
To bring you back to me, my love
From far across the sea, my love

If all the sky were blue
And all earth’s colours true
If all the stars were bright
To guide you through the night
And bring you back to me, my love
From far across the sea, my love


Now all the world is black
The clock needs turning back
Your final bed of wood
Carried all it could
And brought you back to me, my love
From far across the sea, my love

Beautiful Face

Posted on by estlh

Because I don’t know

I don’t know what to say

I don’t know what to do

I don’t know how to fix this.

I don’t know because

There is nothing I can say

There is nothing I can do

There is no way to fix this.

And so faith is my only option

Because I Do know

God Is Good

[Apologies for dodgy sound mix – recorded on my phone! 🙈]

Lord I call to you, I cry out to you
I don’t understand, I feel so helpless
There’s nothing I can do, so I give it all to you
I feel so small, but you are mighty.

And Lord, you’re glorious
In your great goodness, I trust.

Lord send your power, to move in this place
Flood the whole world with your glory and grace
Send your mercy, send your healing
Let the whole world see your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.

Lord I call to you, I cry out to you
I don’t understand, but you know all things
And as my tears fall, and as my heart breaks
I turn to you, for you are healer.

And Lord, you’re glorious
In your great goodness, I trust.

Lord send your power, to move in this place
Flood the whole world with your glory and grace
Send your mercy, send your healing
Let the whole world see your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.

And Lord, you’re glorious
In your great goodness, I trust.

Lord send your power, to move in this place
Flood the whole world with your glory and grace
Send your mercy, send your healing
Let the whole world see your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.
Your beautiful face.

Three times

Posted on by estlh

Often I will have inspiration for just a few lines of a poem. I’ll write them down and come back to them at a later date to write the whole thing. A while ago I wrote the first Stanza of this, originally about a very different matter. However when I came back to it the poem has gone in a totally different direction. So here, very different to what I intended, is the finished poem.

The first time I said no I meant it
The second I wasn’t so sure
The third time I said no I knew that
I’d bend if you asked me once more

The first time I said yes I waivered
The second I felt that I must
The third time I knew I had no choice
To say no would lose me your trust

The first time I walked out I tested
The second I still wasn’t sure
The third time I walked out I knew that
I’d never walk back through that door

The first time I felt love he meant it
The second he meant it much more
The third time 1 felt love I knew that
I’d always be scared and unsure

The first time he promised I questioned
The second I silently wept
The third time he promised I knew that
Once more and 1 might just accept

The next time he promised he held me
In earnest looked straight in my eyes
Whatever wherever whenever
He’d always be right by my side

And that time I really believed it
For once more my heart was made whole
With him by my side I have risen
And reclaimed the me that you stole

In the shadow of the volcano pt 1

Posted on by estlh

On holiday in Pompeii, or indeed anywhere in the bay of Naples, it is hard to ignore the presence of Mount Vesuvius, looming large over the landscape. Although we are all familiar with the eruption of 79AD that destroyed the roman town, there have been many eruptions since. In the last 3 centuries, it has erupted 17 times, the last of these eruptions in 1944; and geologists and volcanologists agree that an eruption is overdue. This, combined with the number of people living in the ‘danger zone’ (approx 3 million), means that vesuvius is considered one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world. Of course it is monitored 24-7 and there are detailed evacuation plans in place, but on our first night in Pompei, watching the sun set over an actual live volcano, it is hard to describe exactly what I felt. I was promoted to write a haiku.

Mighty Vesuvio
Such destructive power possessed.
Primed. Poised. And patient.

To be young

Posted on by estlh

A few days ago I was having a conversation with someone about attitudes towards young people. Particularly the judgement thrown at them purely for acting like they are young and inexperienced and know less of the world. We have all been there at some point  – we all learn as we travel through life. Admittedly, some of us learn better than others, and sometimes we learn the wrong lessons altogether. But being young is not inherently a bad thing, and is something an individual has absolutely no control over!

This conversation brought to mind a poem I wrote back when I was a youth and was feeling judged for being young. It took a lot of rummaging through old notebooks but I eventually found it. Written when I was just the tender age of 16, here it is

The dying hate us
For we are still being born.
As we laugh and joke
They shake their heads in disapproval;
We are living too much for them.
They love the life they are dying,
why should we live more than they can?

They try to take our life from us
They complain to everyone
And grumble remarks as we pass.
We can do no right.
If we try to live a little bit for them,
To rejuvenate their dying breath,
They do not want to know.
Our life threatens them,
And they are untrusting and suspicious.

Their birth was so long ago,
It is forgotten,
And they cannot understand those
Who live like they’ll die tomorrow.