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Miranda Frodsham Poem
Random they flit and float
From the depths to the surface
All bits in between
Thoughts and memories ideas
Mixing together surfacing hiding
Filling my mind happy and sad
Deepest depths to newest cells
My life stored in electrical impulses
Just a flash in the pan of my brain
Myriad micro lights in chaotic harmony
My very being is an electrical soup
How does each flash become a thought?
How does it know what it has to remember?
How long will it remember?
How long do my little electrical friends live?
Do they pass on their little bit of knowledge?
Or does it die when they do..?
So many questions
I feel like a child
I know so few answers
I thought grownups knew it all
At we did when we small
In reality - we know hardly anything at all.
Copyright © Miranda Frodsham | Year Posted 2020
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Miranda Frodsham Poem
Grey cotton wool clouds enfold the mountain tops,
Creeping forward like an army on the move.
Now and then, dropping their wet cargo
On vegetation, withered from long months of sun.
Gusts of wind carry fragments of birdsong,
Rejoicing in the rain, singing their hearts out,
Snippets of melodies, tunes incomplete
Yet somehow they hold total beauty.
The local goat herd head for the cover of trees,
Their bells clanging, a discordant harmony,
Mellow and almost soothing in an odd way.
The soft falling rain gently spatters the ground,
Changing the base colour, by its very wetness.
Greens become greener, more vibrant, alive,
Flowers perk up and shine forth their beauty
Waiting for the never too far away sun to return
Adding to the life-giving rain in its role of
Sustainer of life, giver of growth and spread.
As the rain clears the tops of the mountains
Birdsong becomes more urgent, more intense.
Life is good, go forth and live it, could be
What they are saying. And why not?
Beauty is as beauty does, true as ever,
Wherever beauty is found, especially here.
High in the hills, low in the mountains
Any glade or grassy knell, rocky outcrop
And stony path, life abounds, so oft unseen
By human eyes. So few see this beauty show
Eyes blind to creatures great and small
Oblivious to picturesque valley or
Craggy mountain peaks with eagle circling high.
They care not for scenic views
Bored with not being entertained
As is the modern way, no phone signal up high
A blessing most would say, peace and quiet.
But on this Spanish mountainside, calm yet busy
Life abounds, rains fall on grateful grounds,
An ambience of peace and life fulfilled,
Beauty deep shines forth for those with open eyes,
Aware and looking for each and every gem.
Each winding track, each lofty villa
Shack or outhouse, grace the mountain
With individual promise of Spanish life,
A slice, a piece, a glimpse of another way.
No ‘mod cons’ up here, just life’s basics.
A life of one with nature, peace and harmony.
Copyright © Miranda Frodsham | Year Posted 2020
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Miranda Frodsham Poem
Thoughts, black and gloomy
Tumble, jostling, each wanting
To shout their miserable words
Of depression and gloom.
Weaving the darkness, closer.
Depression, it never leaves,
Not completely, once it has got
Its claws into you, no. Never.
It’s always there, waiting, silent.
Hovering like an unwelcome fly
That you can never swat.
Just waiting for the moment
When doubt creeps in, sly,
Unwelcome, like dusk it creeps
Approaching, crawling, grasping.
Pulling in on tiny grappling hooks
It has thrown into your mind
Full of negativity, full of morose
Thoughts and seeds to bring you down.
Weaving the darkness, closer.
Through the blackening clouds
I can see no colours, little light,
It all weighs heavy on my shoulders
Like a great hooded cloak of lead
Pushing me down, holding me back.
I feel the invisible grey clouds
Stifling and oppressive,
Surrounding me, swirling as if
To trip me up, make me fall
Deeper into the black hole
That I seem to see before me.
I try to look up, to glimpse the sun
But the weight pushes against my head
I can’t look up, I try again, again I fail.
The sun seems to be pulling,
Pulling it’s comforting light back,
Creeping further and further away,
Leaving me, deserting me.
Gloom, gloomy, gloomier....
Then there’s the loneliness.
I feel so alone. So isolated.
A phrase creeps into my mind.
In space, no one can hear you
Scream....
That’s how alone I feel.
Copyright © Miranda Frodsham | Year Posted 2020
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Miranda Frodsham Poem
When all is said and done
The world will keep on turning
Our spirit lives on and goes before
True to our Lord and his creation
Making our way forth to what may be.
For in his gaze I dwell
For in his heart my heart
For in his being mine own
From childhood I have wondered
How would my life evolve
Would my endeavours reap rewards
Would my love of life fulfil
The path I have to tread.
And when I waver or when I fail
I know my true path will still be there
Just waiting until the day I realise
The error of my ways and retrace my steps
To where I should be, in light and life.
For all my faults and sins amassed
Laid bare before his all-seeing gaze
Dismissed, forgiven, my very repentance
I emerge anew, cleansed and pure
Ever to be true and loyal at his side.
Copyright © Miranda Frodsham | Year Posted 2020
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