Recipe for Happiness

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Chipped nails choked with scraped grit.
Blisters swell unfelt, then burst;
a wet revelation on shaft of spade.

Weeds painstaking parted from precious roots,
left in bins to rot
and someday feed the plants whose food
they recently plotted to rob.

Working around worms whose blind cycles
play their part in our survival,
digesting, evacuating, aerating the earth.

Shrubs catching my hair,
tangling it, taking loose strands as souvenirs.
Thorns scratching, blood dripping as I squeeze
between close neighbours, secateurs
gripped tight in my hand.

Snip, snap;
sure of my skill, I amputate weak limbs, lending health
to good wood.

Chipped nails, burst blisters, tangles and scratches
might not sound like life in paradise
yet it is my recipe
for happiness.

©Jane Paterson Basil

Peace #2

Posted for: Against the Next War.

One word,
spoken in hope by gentle folk,
whispered in prayer by meek souls of faith,
breathed into the air by those who hold out human hope,
sobbed and gasped and beseeched
by the oppressed.
One word, a wish issued
by imploring lips that speak for
you and me, its plea reaching across
the dipping curves and stretched flats of
our burdened planet as it struggles
for its next breath.
One word which will not
be choked back or swallowed by the
butt of a gun pressed into the
tender necks of the
persecuted.
One word whose meaning
we must never forget, whose need
we must understand, no matter
what language
we speak.
One word articulated
by each race and every loving creed.
One word that could
change the
world.
One word:
Peace.

.

If this post strikes a chord, please click on Paul’s parent post and his significant follow-up to find out what we are doing and how you can help. You’ll also find pingbacks to related posts.

Join us, and Share, share, share.

©Jane Paterson Basil

 

We Shall Overcome

Posted for: Against the Next War

I present a video of Joan Baez singing “We Shall overcome”.

She still holds the faith; here she is singing it to President Obama at the Whitehouse.

We shall overcome. Join us.

Please click on the parent post and Paul’s significant  follow-up to find out what we are doing and how you can help. You’ll also find pingbacks to related posts.

Share, share, share.

©Jane Paterson Basil

Paul, at Café Philos says:

Please seriously consider spreading this poem — spreading it to your site, to the social media sites — in an effort to make it go viral. We need it viral well before the next war, we need folks mulling over the idea of rebelling against the violence. Spread this poem and then you too write — write about the ideas presented in the poem. For you, for your brothers and for your sisters, for your children after you — stop the wars of aggression!

Please click on the link and lets do this together!

via Against the Next War

Peace #2

One word,

spoken by the gentle,

whispered in prayer by quiet souls of faith,

breathed into the air by those who hold out human hope,

sobbed and gasped and beseeched

by the oppressed.

One word, a wish issued

by imploring lips that speak for

you and me, its plea reaching across

the dipping curves and stretched flats of

our burdened planet as it struggles

for its next breath.

One word which will not

be choked back or swallowed by the

butt of a gun pressed into the

tender necks of the

persecuted.

One word whose meaning

we must never forget, whose need

we must understand, no matter

what language

we speak.

One word articulated

by each race and every loving creed.

One word that could

change the

world.

One word:

Peace.

.

Although my intentions are good, I don’t always remember to credit those who inspire my posts. This post was inspired a beautiful post written by Tinasharma.

Those of you who know Raili, will also know about her Steps for Peace. Every day she puts a peace-inspiring quote at the bottom of her post. I wanted to join Raili in doing something to promote peace, and this post has given me an idea. At the bottom of each of my posts, I will write the word Peace in a different language, and I’ll try to learn to say that word in every language I can. It carries the most important message I can impart to any stranger.

My passion for words has been known to carry me away. In case I sometimes forget to carry out my promise, I apologise in advance.

My first Word for Peace is in Hindi:

Shanti

I wrote this post before I saw Reena’s Exploration Challenge for this week, but it fits the requirements perfectly, so I’ve linked it to her post, which is well worth checking out – maybe you’d like to join in. These are the two images she has used to inspire our writing:

©Jane Paterson Basil

Building Narnia

I don’t often post quotes, but today I found one which appealed to me. Many people have lost all hope of a better future. Some doubt that the human race has any  future at all.

In his book, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C.S, Lewis says:

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.

I hadn’t intended to write a poem – I’m in a rush to go out – but here’s a quick one which came to me when I took a look at today’s word prompt from The Daily Post. The word is Disobey

Building Narnia

Let’s all believe in Narnia;
disobey the naysayers who speak of hierarchy, saying
that greed is a human need,
that hate is an incurable trait,
that hungry nations cannot be freed of starvation —
let Narnia eradicate those negative beliefs.
Let’s believe in Narnia,
In Narnia we will live in peace.

©Jane Paterson Basil

Peace: remix

I searched for peace inside a hollow wall,
where laughing echoes twisted into cries
of agony and fear which wrung my soul —
they flung me down and stole my will to rise.

With shaking hand I wrote my name in blood
extracted from this pulsing heart of mine,
then slowly scribed my story on the wall
and as I wrote, the words turned into rhyme.

My messages on concrete changed to wine
which sweetened with each kindly, warm reply —
each friendly sentence penned in dappled hues,
that blotted out the dank of times gone by.

As moon will fade and sun will take its place,
you led me out of dark and showed me light,
you gave me strength and eased the searing ache,
and now, when demons rise, I stand and fight.

The original version of this poem was in blank verse; I posted it a few hours ago. They’re both written in iambic pentameter, but this one has a formal end-rhyme to it. It’s meant to be an improvement, but I’m not sure how well it works, so instead of editing my original poem, I decided to post this separately. I’d be grateful to know which you prefer. You can find the original HERE.

©Jane Paterson Basil

I don’t understand us

we can build a brain

and yet we cannot embrace

our weeping planet

 

we can reach the moon

yet we cannot turn ourselves

away from hatred

 

caught up in the flow

we race toward our demise.

stop. stand still. listen.

 

earth sings without need

of our accompaniment.

we are out of tune

 

we know the answers

but we pretend that we don’t.

surely we can change.

 

Written for Calen’s Sandbox Writing Challenge #47  “What don’t you understand?” I don’t understand what is the matter with the human race. It’s taken us millions of years to advance to the stage where we can build a vehicle which is able to travel through space and reach the moon, and make a machine which, in a fraction of a  second will answer a mathematical question that would take an average human brain years to work out, and yet we still aren’t able to keep our planet or ourselves healthy.

©Jane Paterson Basil

Sea Mist

image: https://www.flickr.com/photos/dsifry/2173895296/

twenty years have passed since
we walked along dampened sands
hands clasped but hearts far apart
the sky a grey parasol
remorselessly dulling the sea
reflecting my inner misery
expanding my need
to be free of this foolish fakery

nearby, a glimmering
sea-smoothed scrap of green glass
offered opportunity, excuse
to extricate my hand
from unwanted grasp
and to hunt amongst the
refuse of the waves, away
from unwanted contact

lost in the flotsam trail
the atmosphere adjusted

beyond my consciousness
misty droplets massed
unnoticed in my hair
as I stared towards the sand
searching for worn down
nautical treasures

a close spectral lull
compelled me to glimpse up
the sky had dropped its
neutral cloak
to mill around me
smoke like, a muffled mystery
that damply carressed my skin
the world had faded away
and all that remained
was me, briefly elated
in my tiny cosmos

I inhaled deeply
revelling in the vapour
of that flash of freedom.

the sky lifted from my skin
bringing visibility as it receded
I watched the waves wash the shore
the scene remained the same
but peace, like a warm breeze
had brushed against me
imparting the ability
to survive another day

© Jane Paterson Basil