Listen with your heart

Touch with your words

Laugh with your eyes.

   

I’m in a fog

A mind bog

And all around

Is the sound

Of confusion.  

I’m in a strife

A Picasso life

And bits of me

Float like the sea

And don’t compile.

I’m in a loop

A time hoop

And trapped inside

A spiral slide

Of days.
  

Expectations

Of the Future

Place us there

So always

Be wise

Imagine with care.

  
 
Sunmottled clouds
Pass me by
And birds collect
On seascape skies-

Pairs of people
Busy at play
And I observe them
In my way-
 
When beauty
Surrounds us
Do we know
How to hold-
 
This Moment.

 
Oblique shadows
Remind me
Of the twilight
Of Existence.
 
Where I stand
Between the
Demands of Intense Activity
And Sleep.
 
That moment
Of my life
Where I contemplate
Who I am.
 
That moment
In time
I dare not ask where
I am going.
  
Another day

In a new week

Which will

Amaze me

With its

Speed and

With its

Ability

To get

Me to

Another day

In a new week.

 

 
Weeks Concede into Saturdays

Mondays and Fridays

Somehow the days

Inbetween seem

To be lost

In the

Blur.

 
 
The lotus flower
Stands in the mud
Must seek the sun
So high above.
  
The lotus boy
Stands on the earth
He reaches up
To find his worth.
  
The lotus man
Steps in the dirt
He feels the pain
And how it hurt.
  
The lotus mind
Locates the sea
And joins the ocean
Of humanity.
 
 
In search of war

In search of peace

We hear the battle cry
 

And brave men march

And brave men kill

Who asks the reason why
  

Inside your head

Inside your heart

Does God or Allah call
  

Will He be there

Will He be sad

When bombs begin to fall.

 

  
In the end, it is not

What we earned or

Learned that counts.
 

In the end, it is the

Touch, the gentle caring

Of compassion that amounts.
 

  

The city man thinks the simple life
Will take away his stress
He plans to own a country farm
And grow green watercress.
   
The country man has his own plan
To leave his barren plot
His dreams include a fine townhouse
A Porsche and a yacht.
 
There was an old and happy man
Who lived upon a beach
His shack was made of packing crates
His dream was for a peach.

 
The barefooot man watched quietly

As we shouted out in glee-

We won, we won, the bright new car

Is ours, absolutely free.
 

The barefoot man stood silently

As we danced around in joy-

Perhaps we might find happiness

With our wonderful free new toy.
 

The barefoot man smiled cautiously

So we would never see-

That joy and peace and happiness

Was his, absolutely free.
 
 

How then can I help thee

How then can I help me

Years pass and I still dance

At very fast pace-
 

How much can I love thee

How much do you love me

You grow up so quickly

Life seems just a race-
   

And sometimes I watch thee

And sometimes you see me

We catch just a moment

And laugh face to face.

A time

A place

Some grace

To be

By

Myself.

To find that-
 

Alone

Is never

Quite so

Good as

Being

With you.


Missing you is like

Missing part of me.

An empty piece inside

Which corresponds to memory

Of hugs and kisses

Fights and tears.

Oh how I wish

That you were near.
  

   

 The Search

Chill out, there is a way
Be loose
And listen
Your heart knows
What you need.
  

The everyday crap
Will drag you down
Until you see
That there is
A way. 
 
To find this way
Ask inside
No free ride
Here it’s the big
Picture thing.

 
You will be dared
To care
To love
To live
To begin the search.

 
 

Your part in the great plan

May not be clear to you-

There will be something on your way

That no-one else can do.

 
 
The difference in you builds a gap,
Between you and fellow man.
He never faced the world like you
He'll never understand -
 
That Life itself shaped parts of you
And Fate searched in your soul,
For dreams those sleepers never knew
And courage to be bold.
 
The difference in you builds a gap
And means you'll never be,
The same as every ordinary man
Who looks but fails to see 
  
That lighting candles in the storm
And passing on the flame,
Is given only to the ones
With spirit born in pain.
  
 

When I go

It would be

Nice if something

That I did

Or said

Was good enough

To mark

The way

To the space

I travelled

Through.

Poems by Mary Hendriks
For comments on these poems and photos
e-mail Mary at marebudde@hotmail.com