Knowing enough is enough,

Begins with believing you are enough.


When fertile ground becomes barren,

Pastures are spent,

What was full has emptied;


Freezing in place is unsound!

Find a peace in movement.


Ride out the regret,

Face down the sadness,

Accept that all things change;


Turn from victimhood,

Find a hero’s grace.



Pervading sadness

Not thrilling but compelling

Way easily lost

Comforting melancholy

Erodes will spends energy

For Ronovans Monday challenge where key words are sad and thrill.


Uncertain Times

Times are uncertain

Perhaps always were.

Now precarious truth

Is underscored.


Will we blindly

Keep to what was?

Deluded, sedated

Ignore what is?


Or embrace reality

With its mountains and pits.

Find our nobility

Drop our base fears.


Let go of our hindrances

Truly co-exist

Courageously, kindly

Be what we are.

I do believe that it is in shedding what does not serve us and others; that we come closer to who we actually are – perhaps more so, than when we gain.

The Observer

Apparently I should understand,

What’s going on inside my mind.

But when I probe,

It remains elusive.

Enigmatically reclusive.

When I simply sit still,

A cascade of thoughts and feelings,

All compete for centre-stage.

Like the din of an audience,

Before a performance.

Or a cacophony of debate,

Competing for a point to make,

With no speaker to call ‘Order’!

Rarely these facets of me,

Can ever seem to agree.

When I can become observer,

Watching the chaos unfold.

Avoiding the compelling draw.

The roar then abates.

Quiet calm is my state.

I can sit aware of arisings.

Comforted all will pass,

That all is transient.

This state is not easily found.

But it is truly profound.


Crisis Bested

Creative juices,

Have been spent.

For so long now,

Minds been bent.


Towards a duty,

For those that raised.

Roles have twisted,

A Patriarch dazed.


A wounded Mother,

Helpless, scared.

Vulnerability exposed,

Weakness bared.


Family solidity,

Has been tested.

But not found wanting,

Crisis bested.



On Dismal Days

A blanket of grey,

Heralds my day,

But I don’t despair.

Resigned to my chair.

I always find ease,

No desire to seize,

A different position,

No hard decision.

On dismal days,

I am found in a haze.

Lost in my mind,

An imaginative bind.

That takes me away,

Despite, static I lay.

To anywhere I choose,

With nothing to loose.


Mind Storm

Thoughts gust and billow,

The sails of consciousness.

Tearing down equanimity,

Whipping up despondency.

Mind is tossed and turned.

Finding no fine calmness,

No quiet act of divinity;

Can settle and let it be.

Yearning for the solace,

Lost in squall’s madness.

Cyclone’s destructive proclivity,

to disturb a sense of decency.

Then the worst is over, leaving

persistent rains of sadness.

Mind’s cyclone bows to gravity,

& battered, but lucid you see.

It was simply passing weather

The awesome greatness,

Of melancholy’s audacity,

Obsolete to patience’s key

Ragtag Daily Prompt – 2nd April 2021 – Patience


Future’s Beckoning

Future’s beckoning,

Time’s reckoning.

Melancholy threatens,

Peace deadened.

Conquering fear,

Living right here.

Finishing tasks,

Doing what’s asked.

Vanquish despondency,

Averting tragedy.

Becoming complete,

Understated, discrete.


Immoral Saviours

I know it’s wrong,

But I did it.

Now it’s gone,

And I miss it.

It cannot bring solace.

Fulfilment? Never…

Sorrow, a red face.

No smiles, no forever.

An end now is wise,

And I cannot deny.

Am pleased an end to lies.

So why do I still cry?

I am emotionally tied.

Despite my denials.

So to myself I lied,

Put myself through trials.

Now my heart is paying,

For its lustful favours.

In future I’ll be staying,

Far from, immoral saviours.


Gaining Strength

I worry,

I’m not strong enough,

To do the things I hope to do.

I wonder,

Why I strive to give up,

All that I have worked to be.

I know,

This path that I am on,

Is not the course that I must take.

I therefore,

Look to something new,

And hope that it is strength I gain