What If I Told You Magic Exists?

If I told you there was magic in this world,

What would you say?

I am not talking fairies, wands, wizards or spells,

Just things science can’t explain away.

When lifelong friends, separated by miles of sea,

Just know when the other will call,

The placebo effect, a mother’s intuition,

Or if dark matter matters at all.

One day we might know the answers we seek,

But I am happy to be alive,

In a time of uncertainty with mystery,

Where one cannot contrive.

Some may never learn,

The beauty that is embracing the unknown,

But it is good for the heart and good for the soul,

To relinquish human control.

To let nature take its course,

And gaze into the abyss,

It has a charm, a real-life magic,

A secretly complicated bliss.

Heron Pike

Following the stream, translucent and blue,

Where seven days ago I had smiled at you.

The same daffodils swayed in the springtime breeze,

I stop to catch a breath beneath the same beech trees.

I didn’t lose my way this time, I stayed right on track,

Just one thing that went wrong, a mere week back.

And when I made it to the top, I almost cried,

Because this time around I felt something inside.

Hope, pride, calm… I felt free,

I didn’t do this for you, I did this for me.

I stand at the top and look down at the view,

Where I was ready to let go of you.

Sky High

As the azure turns to navy,
When the sun sets in the sky,
She wakes up and wanders the streets,
Searching for a high.

When she gets her fix,
and the mean reds melt away,
She makes the same promise,
That she made yesterday.

Tomorrow things will change,
She will have the willpower,
To find happiness and peace,
In a sombre sober hour.

Un Mal Pour un Bien

Everything happens for a reason,

Just maybe not in the way we’ve been told.

Sometimes life can be hard when we’re young,

Yet easier as we grow old…

When the happiest times were the bitterly cold nights

and you could see your breath in the sky…

But when that summer came around,

you were inconsolable for the whole of July.

There was the day that you saw him for the very last time

and the blue was masked with cloud.

Yet whilst your heart was breaking,

the birdsong had never been so loud. 

When you pick the flowers and sing a rainbow,

Take a moment to read between the lines,

Because you might just miss the beauty of it all,

If you don’t learn to open your eyes.

A rainstorm in a drought is a wish come true,

Sunshine during a flood is nature’s rescue,

A tear to the artist can be his greatest breakthrough,

So when things seem difficult, you know what to do…

Take a breath and smile, it’s only a blip,

Because the bad can be great on this miraculous trip.

Pluviophile

Don’t tap against my windows

Make as much noise as you can

Drench me to my very core

Let go weatherman.

Blow before your lungs collapse

Lift the roof from this home

Tear up the concrete drive

Break through the Thatchere’d stone.

Take me away with you

You can be my guide

So kick down the door

and let yourself inside.

A Lavender Soul

She loved the smell of lavender
floating through the breeze,
so she planted herself a border
beside the evergreen trees.
She loved her colourful garden
with phlox and anemones,
and the old determined ivy
with its bright and glossy leaves.
She loved the friendly buzzing
of the workaholic bees.
But the thing that she loved most of all
that put her soul at ease,
was the fragrant scent of lavender,
floating through the breeze.

When the Curse of the Eternal Winter is Broken . . .

Tomorrow brings the first day of Spring, so today I bring a short story about the season of new beginnings.

She came from a world victim to an eternal winter. Daytime was twilight and the night was darker than we could fathom. The brightest light came from the dim glow of the miniature moon hanging in the starless sky, its light mirrored from the snow-covered ground.

Navy blues, deep purples, and the dullest greys were the only colours that were able to penetrate the omnipotent darkness. Even the trees resembled the colour of the moody sky, but when the frost clung to its concrete bark, she pretended they were made from the finest silver.

Life struggled to survive in her world and she rarely crossed paths with other humans. She was lucky enough to be gifted life, but she never felt alive. The cold and violent weather meant that the few who inhabited the darkness scarcely left their homes.

In a sad, undiscovered world, the only comfort she found was within her imagination. She tried to picture places where freezing winds didn‘t carry ghosts in their gale, or where the sky wasn’t in a constant state of pure darkness.

Every night she would write of other worlds to lose herself in, “dreamlands”. After each new world that she wrote of, she would fall asleep and visit the place in her dreams. But every morning she would wake up back in her own bed again, in her land that was the colour of bruises.

Until one story changed everything.

A raging storm was consuming the night outside of her lonely cottage. Frozen rocks hammered at the doors and windows, and the wind screamed through the cracks in the walls, tormenting her in an icy isolation.

The storm had approached so quickly that she had no time to replenish her firewood store and the stove was beginning to die down. Every breath became a misty cloud and her fingertips began to sting. She would not allow the storm to engulf her as it did the night.

She marched to her writing desk, pulled out her notebook and began to write, pressing the lead of her pencil into the paper so hard, that it began to carve the wooden desk beneath. Gripping her pencil with all of her might, she held her breath and wrote the words. . . .

“I open my eyes and see tall, green trees reaching towards the brightest sapphire skies. Birds sing a sweet melody as they fly between the clouds and a dragonfly with emerald wings flutters by, landing on a nearby flower. I watch them as they sway in the cool breeze which carries the perfume of the wildflowers surrounding my feet.”

As she always did, she lost herself in her words. However, something was different from the other times.

She could no longer hear the violent roar of the storm from her world and she didn’t feel the cold anymore. She released her suffocating grip from around the pencil and ran her fingers through the pink heather that was brushing at her knees. She was really here.

Standing in a field of wildflowers, surrounded by sweet chestnut and blossom trees, where snow-capped mountains dominated the horizon. The air was clear and liberating.

She began to run through the field. She ran and she ran. Feeling alive for the first time in her life.

The clouds gathered together and light rain began to fall from the sky above. Each droplet was cool and crystal clear. Closing her eyes, she danced in the rain and in this moment, everything that she had ever worried about began to wash away.

The rain slowly came to an end and as she opened her eyes again. She looked up to where the clouds were moments ago and in its place was an archway glowing with more colours than she had ever seen. She never knew that a world could be so beautiful and she never wanted to leave.

After a few months had passed and the days began to get longer, the birds sang louder, the flowers bloomed brighter and the sun got warmer. And when the sun finally decided to sink beneath the horizon, the sky became a canopy of twinkling stars. The world that she had found has so much to show us.

Gradually, the pearlescent peach and pink sunsets were shown earlier and the green leaves turned hues of orange as they cascaded to the ground. During this time, she believed the world was made from solid gold.

Occasionally she would think about the place she came from and only every once in a while did she miss the sparkle of the snow. Then came her first winter in this world. The warm oranges slowly turned to blues and greys. The bark would glisten in the moonlight like fine silver, and she would feel like she was back home again.

Just for a little while, before winter gave way to spring again.

She spent the rest of her life in this ever-changing world and she explored each of its magical lands. Some lands had metallic cities full of people with hopes and dreams; others had magnificent forests filled with creatures which sang, chirped, roared, and hissed. But every single Spring, she would return to the field of wildflowers where it all began. Where she discovered this paradise, Earth, and where her life truly started.

Hello Monday…

Monday has good intent, but zero motivation,

Tuesday is always anxious with disappointment and frustration,

Wednesday “the hump day”, just isn’t as fun as it sounds,

Thursday is just waiting for Friday to come around,

Friday comes and brings the beers, it’s going to be a good night.

Until Saturday knocks with a pounding head and a complexion an unhealthy white.

Then Sunday smiles and beams, telling everyone it’s not so bleak,

Monday will be back again soon so we can fuck up another week!