I was so busy
Waxing lyrical in my previous post
That I totally forgot
About my guiltiest guilty pleasure
Now that I’m reading other confessions
And hearing about frappucinos and caffeinated drinks
I am stirred to admit
A guilt trip I ride at least once per day
And so to prove the point
This evening at a Pilates Dinner
I was served a really good cup
Of my guilty pleasure – Cappucino!
No sugar, skim milk please!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/grateful-and-guilty/
If my life were a movie
There would be romance
Never-ending moments of
Life and love and joy
Depth of feeling
One with another
At peace with a collected me
Understanding, compromising
Flowing music on repeat
Best friend Miss Meryl Streep
Leading to a life
Lived passionately
Fighting banished, no more
Strife and endless tears –
Heart-renching goodbyes, sensual
Feeling overcoming
Standing on bridges
Being at one with my surrounds
Thankfulness abounding
For each moment I am breathing
“The old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out, but glad I had them.” Clint Eastwood
I’ve spent a few years
Looking outside of me
Yearning
For some company
To fill an internal need
Externally
Not that easy always
For friends to conjure up
Magically
So I picked up a pen
That is – my hands and began to type
Consistently
And what I’ve found
Is that I’ve started to heal
Miraculously
I am no longer looking
To fill a void to
Band-aid me
So now my perfect day
Would be to visit myself
Internally
To spend some time
Learning to paint a little
Artfully
I’ve booked on a course
To learn concepts of design
Visually
So I can write
And when I’m done I can
Graphically
Turn my writing
Into books that can keep others
Company
And to drink, some sparkling water
With ice and lemon and bubbles
Please!
No sparkling water but this will work!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/still-or-sparkling/
A form of honesty
Never did any harm
I’ve always been taught,
So given the chance
To look back at all the things
I’ve said and done
A bit of eccentricity
Comes to the fore
I was tempted to write
About a close relative of mine
Who passed away so many years ago
Until I started myself thinking
About all the things
I’ve been heard to say
I’ve been asked by mouths of babes
“Why do I do things I do?”
When wrapped in my own little world –
Talking aloud to only me
(Or even setting the midnight alarm
To arise and pen a daily post
Proving a level of eccentricity
I’m sure anyone would agree
“You do what?”
Yeah it’s true, I set the alarm
Because the daily post needs to be responded to
And one entry needs to be from me)
I found out the other day
When I spoke quite triumphantly
About my book – what a surprise
This has turned out to be
Because when I was but a child
I was held back from starting school
A ‘special school’ was suggested quite highly
I ended up attending a mainstream one
But at least I now have an answer
When it is at oftentimes asked –
For when I do the strangest things
That would send a husband under the desk
“What planet would you be from –
When you do the things you do”
My answer now can be
My planet is Vonita
And if this you do not believe
Visit my online blog and home
Passion through Poetry
movingtowardsthelight – VIVA
I am the author
Every word is mine
And not only that
My book is written
It has been written by me!
(Thanking Oscar and Tim for their contributions too!)
I’m old enough to have Good Old Days
I’m young enough to remember them
Studying, learning, that golden time
Between school and earning myself a
Living
A student, but not a scholar
Romanticising, socialising
Studying, experimenting 🙂
Three years of my life
Loving
No responsibilities, but to
Learn that mathematics
Do those tutorials
Have myself some fun
Partying
Bryan Adams in South Africa
You rock!
X-Files, Friday night Friends
First love, First fight
Working
Weekends to earn myself some money
To help me get by, those days flew away
So fast, and now when I look back
They are those Good Old Days
Reminiscing
And what do I see here?
From yesterday’s magic key?
Bright stickers reminding me
How urgently someone would want my
Company
There is a vanity box
Gift to me when I was maybe
Fourteen, by my Grandma dear
It has stayed with me
For all this time
Contains the memoirs
Of a younger self
Many memories contained
Within this box midnight blue
So precious, it is locked
To be opened only
By one magic key
A key so golden, key so fine
Unlocking the treasures within
My diaries, reams and reams of them
My first kiss, my teenage years
My hopes and dreams
Photographs, and baby charms
Birthday cards, and Love Letters too
Thank You Note from my Mother’s heart
Sharing how proud she was
To be a mother to me
All the memories of my life
My youth, my heart
Are contained here within
Preserved for future days
Mystical memories to be revealed
By one golden, magic key
Poem Number One
If its coffee I’m waiting for
I would like it now please
Both my babies I had to wait
An inordinate amount of time for –
Being held to wait
For their father to arrive
And then another nine months for each
Well, I was young, or should I say
I was younger than I would be today
And so my patience is no longer
As it was in the fountain of my youth
And because it will be
Another whole day before
Midnight Post re-appears
The waiting is too long
And so *just for fun*
I have written not one
But Two Midnight Posts
And I cannot decide
Which is the preferred
Because I am due a coffee
And so my brain is refusing
To answer the question for me
So without further ado
I hereby present
Poem Number Two
Poem Number Two
Waiting, waiting, anticipating
My life is passing me by as I would type
Days turn to nights
Night turn to days
And still I wait
My patience endures
Longer than my flesh
Ageing, growing, evolving
In younger times
Time was as plentiful as water
A lifetime ahead
One lifetime of time
Well, times have changed
And that never-ending
Fountain of youth and years
Minutes and seconds seem so easily to
Slip through my fingers
As quickly as I can type
Making me hesitant to agree,
Very enthusiastically, to wait any
More longer than I should
Nowadays if there is something
I could possibly hope for –
Will have to go after it myself
And hope I catch it before I die
Which one would you prefer
It begs the question
Poem Number One
Or are you rather loving
Poem Number Two?
Would this possibly make
Poem Number Three
Perhaps?
Coffee Time!
Relax, my child
I know you are having breakdowns
Nerve issues, and anxiety too
But all will be well
Son and daughter will be blessed
Countries will be exchanged
Smart phones will be invented
You will find out soon
What they might be
You will learn to write
Practice some Pilates
Get that body into shape!
New friends will arrive
New people, new lives
New stories to be shared
There will be sad times
There will be happy times
There will be farewells
Sorrow and joy interweaving
Working together for good
Harmonising
You will never be without
Every day you are alive
There will be blessing surrounds
And to help you out
There will be coffee
And to spare
And at night, there will be tea
In mugs reminding you of home
Lovingly painted in Africa by hand
(Zimbabwe actually to be exact
Long story, don’t ask)
The best gift given to me
Is difficult to decide
How would one choose between ‘Flower Post’
Hand delivered to my home address
By a special little girl –
Or would I choose a Home-Baked cake
In the flag of my Home Land as a
Surprise for my birthday in April of this year?
Any ideas – how could one even make a
Choice between these two?
A new day has dawned
The morning sun filtering
Delicately into the room
Bringing its version of light
Beckoning me
To awake and to arise
To emerge myself in the day
That would lie ahead
I hear the chirping of birds
Cars driving by
Melodies of creation far and near
Different sounds of nature’s songs
Filling my heart with
A joyful gladness of being alive
On this new day
A precious gift to humankind
And to creation that would us surround
To have a world that we may enjoy
Graciously thought out in its being
Wondrous marvel
My life could be taken today
What would be my parting words
What would I like my testimony to be?
That I was alive and I lived and felt
Gave thanks and loved
Poems and Petals 