Best Lightness Poems
A young girl
with brown hair
braided back
holds before
her a parasol
striped in two shades of blue
At her neck is
the lacy collar of
an elegant long-sleeved
Ivory colored blouse
Seen in profile
her face is turned
slightly
downward
as if she is
in quiet reflection
Behind her
is sky light blue
but directly
in front of her
is the expanse
of a large cloud
enveloping half the sky
Four white butterflies
seem to dance
behind her
One beige butterfly
and a small blue one
have alighted on her
bell-shaped beige skirt
swept outward
That skirt is an upside
down lily
floating above
ground,
for her entire
lower body
has become the flower
which has lifted
toward sky and cloud!
The maiden
hovers above
blue dandelion-like blooms.
I imagine her f l o a t i n g off
into her own
imagination,
for she is as light as
the fluff of the
strange blue dandelions
which I can imagine
blowing away
with puffs
of my breath
and
a wish
is
what
what is...
what is what
is what is now...now...
all the whens and the might have beens...
a captivating time space wonderland called...the now...
a stability without hunger to consume and fill all from an emptiness void
stan sand
A life of blessings and lightness
By Michelle Morris
25/04/2024
Light the match
Watch it burn
Your old life
The twists and turns
Let the wind blow
Ashes far away
Time for clear skies
No more grey days
Plant the seeds
New roots to grow
Sunshine and roses
Beach walks and moon glows
Rainbows and stars
Green grass and flowers
White picket fences
Love and light showers
Embrace the beauty
Colours and brightness
You deserve good
A life of blessings and lightness
© Michelle Morris, 2024
Bright is the dew that embraces my earth
As seasons breathe with a lingering sigh;
Oaks in teal ripple and glimmer in peace
With hymns of ' thank you' I can't defy.
In this free motion, tranquility abides
North winds drift along, gentle and refined
Encircling on the core of quietude;
That hours glide perfectly, weaving a bind.
For gratitude becomes my life’s keeper
Each passing turns into a rune, a fire;
Till lightness of ease imbues vibrant thoughts
Benevolent as sunrays that inspire.
Today leans again with a lustrous face
In calm persuasion, my heart and soul meet,
This wholeness bathing in its grateful flow
When life resounds without any conceit.
The circles of the bloody moon,
slide Northward towards the Rive Nile,
Death and raven drift above,
As mother guards her nest with pride.
The nightingales are singing near,
The nightly winds leave the door ajar,
The big bellied old man, unfamiliar,
Shows fatigue on his face, so clear.
The sheer brilliance of Mother's many vibrant colors,
fills my heart with such unwavering joy,
As she pulls and folds the table cloth,
She sings with the bloody wood, such joy.
The silent man, like a mocha brown ape,
sprawls at the window sill and gapes,
Mother brings in the mango slices,
Bananas, oranges and the summer grapes.
The silent vertebrate in brown,
smiles the frowns then concentrates then withdraws,
then the silent bellied man in brown,
tears at the fruits with his murderous paws.
And still Mother's lovely grin,
circumscribe her dazzling white denticle,
as this man tears into these mango slices,
she looks at him in adulation, such a spectacle!
Times, too often, I forget, that I was not born to bring
darkness to our planet.
But I am to lighten all souls, who exist upon it.
I do forget, and need to meditate upon it.
Surely, problems are universal and do exist.
No need for us wear chains upon our wrists!
We came from the light, and things of great
beauty and might.
It’s no help to this world, to make it all
frightening like a windy, stormy night.
I see the long, winding path ahead.
May I fill it with hope and sunshine, till I am dead.
12/18/2022
Nobody wants a well, when I am sad,
A few drops are enough to bring on rain!
This realm's sorrows -- enough to drive us mad!
Nobody needs the bottom of the drain!
I ask my heart, 'what new gift shall we bring?'
And then, I wait for answers in the calm
(Loud shouts come when I hear but storm and sting!)
And then, a butterfly lights on my palm:
'She was my Joy!' its wings whisper to me,
'And I must wait awhile, until we touch.
We played together often, now a sea
Has washed our sand-castles, and not left much.
I'll need to live now, in another place,
Perhaps the elves will build me one, by Grace!'
"Things"
May seemingly
Get heavy in
What appears as life
For no one..
Burdens and
Frustrations which are
Stories of suffering
Appearing as This..
Lightness appearing
As heavy...
You caught me red-handed.
You had me thinking
I did something wrong.
But I was high
on this unbearable lightness
even before the first puff.
Stop looking
at me like I'm tainted,
you're just as confused as I am.
I have better questions
now that I'm not afraid to ask them...
That's the benefit.
That's the danger.
I can admit to myself
that I'm a stranger,
no more able to predict
the way things will change me,
move me,
than there exists a capability to hunt
down every ripple
of every action I took.
Not a single one
holds the certainty that it won't grow bitter
somewhere near or far along the chain,
in any direction, like the river
flowing into an ocean.
A spider web, a collision
of all the forces of nature.
How can I know which ones to avoid
when even the worst of things
can leave me better
in the end?
Reality moves beneath our feet
without us leading,
our sentiments a stranger,
or a combination
to another door wide open.
If the life in you is the life you love
And the joy of life is your purpose,
Then stand up and sing,
Sing loud of that thing,
And never be heavy again.
Ah, for the body of right is a lightness,
And its engine a rational will,
And the self-leading soul, now a fighter,
Will never be heavy again!
If the thought in you is the dream you live,
And the aim of dream is your profit,
Then stand up and sing,
Sing loud of that thing,
And never look down again!
Ah, for the cup that is full is a lightness,
However so large it be,
And the self-loving soul, now a giant,
Will never look down again!
Oh, if flesh of Ideal is the flesh you want,
And mind-in-body your mast'ry,
Then clasp her and swing,
Bell bound to that thing,
And never be heavy again!
Ah! For the Altar Of Want is a lightness,
Where never a true love lost,
And the power of pride, inspiring,
Will never be heavy again!
If kisses, embraces, and profits and life,
Aren't misses and chases, and losses and strife,
Then get them and do them and earn them and win,
And never be never be heavy again! Hah!
Sometimes in the latest night
I tiptoe amongst the stars -
a carpet littered with shimmer;
always careful not to catch
my sole upon - Snag!
a silvered sliver
of moon...
Yesterday at the braai
I watched the smoke
lifting on swirls of hot air.
I thought it was a good idea,
so I told myself I was light.
At first I wobbled unsteadily,
satiated with smoky, fragrant air,
but eventually I slowly left the ground.
First I drifted sideways,
and then I floated higher at a slant.
I waved my hands
to turn myself horizontal,
and studied the ground below.
Roofs surrounded by trees
made a suburban patchwork,
blue and greenish flashes
indicated pools.
The blimp in shorts and sandals
that was me, drifted far below the clouds.
People were dots in their back gardens
doing Sunday things in their casual clothes.
I felt the need to wee, and did.
I don't think a single drop
reached anybody below –
nobody looked up,
people rarely do.
Note
"braai" = "barbecue"
Passing by the wet market,
seeing flowers—
decided to buy some,
to brighten the day,
one of those inside-gloomy-days
The sun was beating down,
and even the roses were scorched
but the lady selling them had a smile,
since she knew that she was going to get a sale.
The roses or those big mums?
(I cannot remember what she called them exactly—started with an A)
With the hot weather, I can imagine those roses
lasting only a day
So the big mums it is.
I ask for some aster, and she adds them to the flowers….
I looked at those mums—white and yellow,
yes, they sort of looked like big spiders
They looked pale, sort of like me.
So I asked the lady to please
add those smaller, lavender mums
for some splash of color…
I really like it sometimes
when people just suddenly start talking
when they do something—
it reveals that passion they have for it.
I asked her name—
Rose.
How fitting indeed.
The lady selling flowers is named Rose.
I will now remember.
She seemed happy she made a sale,
too happy she gave me the wrong change…
so I returned the extra money with a smile
I got a smile for my change.
Feeling lighter as I walked on,
even with the bright afternoon sun bearing down on me…
And then—
Dryness,
just feeling so dry within,
it almost felt like the flowers that I held
were withering in stop motion
(just like some things in my life),
I had to stop myself from checking
whether they had turned brown already,
all because of me…
I felt so sapped.
The struggle to lift myself up continues…
Ah, Miss Rose,
I shall buy flowers from you again,
if only to get 312 seconds of lightness.
you were my everything
my stars in the beautiful night sky
my sunrise in the gorgeous morning
now there's nothing but,
darkness late in the night
and dark gray clouds in the early morning
you are the reason for my smiles in the day
and my tears every night
now all i have to say is good-bye
Darkness is coming upon us.
I sit here and think.
Why do I do this to myself?
Why do I bring sadness in?
And just push joy out.
Where did all these feelings start?
Such anguish and desire for
pain is not normal.
I'm not normal.
I've taught myself that this is ok,
that its good to feel
a bit of depression.
It is truly not.
Its eating away at me, piece by piece.
God created Lightness in us.
But darkness has taken over me.
It has become me.