BOTTOM OF THE BOTTLE
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WHERE IS MY HEART?
I looked at the sky, I looked at the clouds And the clouds poured tears. And I wondered, Where is my heart? I saw the rain. I saw the sun. I saw oases in the desert. And I saw my heart Separated by an ocean. I felt the waves pounding Inside my heart; Beating with yearning Yet smiling with the sun. Happy to be here But yearning to be there. A small globe In our large sky. We so easily scatter Across her face; Taking with us pieces Of each other’s hearts. Our love, dreams and laughter Can span the Universe; But we still yearn For a tight hug, A warm caress, To make our hearts whole. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD BE STILL
Be still Young racing mind. Racing inside your head, Ideas cluttered In drawers and under the bed; Hopes, dreams and plans In a rumpled, crumpled Tangle of emotions. Rushing and racing; Struggling to unravel the maze. See through the haze To find your brilliance; To find yourself. Be still, For a moment. Be still. Feel the quiet; Hear your thoughts; Let them flow quietly. Take time for yourself. Let your feelings Wrap around you; Let them still your racing mind And free your thoughts and ideas To draw the map To find yourself. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD HERE IS A USEFUL ARTICLE FOR PARENTS OF BUSY KIDS WHEN I AM OLD
When I am old; And my world has shrunk Like a candle's glow. Remember the light I used to be. When my bones are frail And my skin is thin; Remember how I used to run And dance. Remember how I laughed And loved. Remember the hugs I gave and cherished. Remember the girl, the woman, The mother, the lover I used to be. When my memories are clouded And my days become shrouded In poor vision and confusion, Remember how I used to be; And tell me tales of my early days, When the sun's rays Shone full upon my face. Tell me memories to pave my road, Bring your light to shine for me. Hold my hand and stay with me, As I take my final steps To my journey's end. Wrap me in love and memories To help me from this world with grace. And when the shroud covers And my night has come; Let my light shine In those memories; Lighting your heart And your path. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD HEILFONTEIN
Tucked away Along a long dirt road, The farmhouse rises. Nestling in the mountains And nurtured by a stream And mountain spring, She calls you to her hearth. The fynbos infused air Softens your skin And soothes your soul; And your heartbeat slows To the gentle cows' low - Amber jewels On the emerald grass. Silver-blue Penny Gum leaves Line the lane to a serene log cabin And peaceful Hermitage, Perfuming the air Where the pink proteas grow. And when the moon Bids goodnight to the black sky And your head is weary, The Milky Way smiles on you; A dazzling, timeless glory. An eternal display in celebration Of life and peace in the universe. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD RAINSTORM
I watched the sea change From sapphire to leaden grey, Streaked by a silver spear Aimed at the sun. The blue sky withdrew Behind the threatening clouds, Turning the day Slate grey. The leaves were still. A wary silence filled the air And the cooling breeze Gently caressed my arms, As if whispering: This is the calm before the storm. Then she flew into a mighty wind And the sea answered her call. Dark green waves tipped with white Battered the shore. A deep, distant drumroll of thunder Signalled her advance. A lightning spear tore the sky. Then the sharp crack of exploding clouds And the drops began. First slow, steady hammering, Pummeling the earth into submission. Then all the forces rallied and raged. The storm tore across the sea And into the land, Whipping trees and bushes, Tossing their leaves in disarray. Birds flew into the air, Squawking in consternation. Animals cowered in silent dread, Seeking refuge wherever they could. Finally, her anger spent, She took her clouds Cleared the sky and went. The sun smiled once again, Warming the washed land, Filling the air with the perfume Of a myriad flowers. Refreshed, renewed and invigorated, The birds fluffed up their feathers And filled the day with birdsong; Animals left their shelters And frolicked. And I threw my arms and face to the sun In a dance of pure joy. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD Play Me The Songs
Play me the songs From when the singer and I were young. From the days of hope, When we believed in Life; Felt sure she would correct all wrongs. Now his songs are more polished. Rough edges of exuberance Smoothed away. The fervor to fix tomorrow has gone. And I am left with reality's malaise. Our tired eyes Have seen bad mutate; Slip through our optimistic fingers To darken shadows and dreams. Play me his old songs. Let their enthusiasm Once again ignite my soul. Let my heart pound once again To the rapturous naivety Of when we were young. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD SEE THE DOLPHINS
See the children Building castles in the sand; Trying to keep the sea From washing away their land. See the dolphins, Jumping and playing Above the waves That keep rolling in. Tides of time. Like children at play, We build castles in the sand; Trying to hold time at bay. See the dolphins as they play; Jumping to great heights Beyond the tides, They see the sights Of new horizons. READ MORE POEMS BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD Or simply read my most recent ones by CLICKING HERE Clipping The Wings of Angels
The seed of love, Sown with passion, Grows and blooms As her belly swells with pride. Joyous anticipation And excitement Electrify the air. A new miracle is happening. A new gift from Love. The moment arrives. An angelic face peaks through; Full of innocent promise. A blossom Of love and grace. A shiver of apprehension Slithers into the air. Sent by the social mores Of simple men. For mortal man Has arrogated the rights Of destiny to himself. Simplistic social mores Dictate the path That must be followed; Because of what they see When an angel is born And lays guiltless and pure On its mother's breast. Thus, mere mortal men Muddy the paths of Destiny And audaciously clip The wings of angels. The Old Dusty Album At the back of the cupboard, Lies a well-thumbed book, Bulging with memories; Silent stories Of lives and loves past. Sepia, grey and white faces Look up at me Through the generations. Some, relaxed and smiling, Others, proudly elegant In their high collars, long skirts And stiff suits. Cars and motorbikes now vintage; Towns with low buildings And wide, empty streets. Quiet picnics in fields Now paved and bustling. Reflections of history. They took the photos And recorded their memories. Few names, Few dates. Breadcrumbs On a path of discovery. I turn the pages, Trying to piece together the puzzle. I meet my parents As nonchalant teens. And my grandparents When they were still courting. My great grandmother radiates Calm poise, Her hair piled intricately on her head. At the back of my mind Old memories return. Stories at my Granny’s knee, Faces and places emerge Through the fog Of my childhood memories. From the back of the cupboard, In an old, dusty book, With pictures of lives long past; I find once more The childhood I thought would always last. Read more poems by Sharon Heaney Stansfield CLICK HERE TO READ HAIKUS WRITTEN BY SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD |
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