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Introduction
by the author
Welcome
to the first of Shorelink’s ‘Spotlight” months. It
was my suggestion that we have this feature so that people get the
chance to show their work as an independent writer, rather than a group
member. It was the group’s suggestion that I be the first to
do this. Not necessarily because I am a good example to set things
going, but more likely because those present when I suggested it chose
to shove me to the head of the queue, using me as some kind of guinea
pig!
My
name is Stephanie, I was born in 1971 in Poole, Dorset, but I have
lived in Hastings, East Sussex nearly all my life. I have been writing
poetry since I was about seven years old. This has always been primarily
for myself, using it as recreation initially, but progressively more
as a way to connect all that I experience with all that I am, on all
levels of consciousness. I very much enjoy the process of writing,
and have found no better way to get to know myself unconditionally.
I feel this is fundamental in my holistic health.
I
have been a member of Shorelink for about two and a half years. This
has been fundamental in my holistic health too. All that I have experienced
through the group has had a strong effect on other areas of my life,
with a rise in confidence, writing ability, self-esteem and general
self acceptance and expression thereof. For all this I am extremely
grateful to all members (yes, even you Robert!), and for the varied
writing "exercises" set in sessions.
Let
me share some of myself with you through my words, and please, do feel
free to share your thoughts, feelings, suggestions openly with me, I
would really appreciate feedback from people outside my usual circle
of friends. I hope you enjoy what you find, but if not, please don’t
give up on this ‘Spotlight” section, there are other writers
to come!
Love
and peace,
Stephanie :-)
| The Great Gathering |
|
When
time was first born it was so small and frail, fragments of moments,
caught gently by Earth when they would fall from the heavens.
But, somewhere along the line came terrifying downpours that
flooded the earth and ‘we’, as humankind, are now
feeling that we are absorbing too much at once, finding it overwhelming.
A
multitude of lifetimes, all catching up with themselves, filtering
through our generation as the planets settle down and ease smoothly
into new times.
We
are so lucky; all our patience in digesting global experience
leads to the fantastic rewards of understanding, acceptance,
harmony and love.
There
is shaking underfoot, the foundations seeming rocky, but, we’re
still standing tall, and we are strong in our shared vulnerability.
This is not poison to the soul, this is holistic, healing medicine
Ð the only medicine that can ease the pain which fear creates,
and we are healing well.
I
see splendid times, lifting us high in collective celebrationÉeuphoric
unison, and a great global gathering of graceÉamen!!
19.03.04 |
| Unleashed |
|
Unzipping
the line of the horizon,
And
adding more scope...
Unending
perspective of hope.
Wearing
thin self-made walls...
Tearing
off the ball and chain,
Ready
to be free again.
I
hear my feet leading me on,
My
shadow cast way ahead,
And
see the path I must now tread.
Future’s
finger is beckoning me,
Tugging
at my soul.
Offering
opportunities bold...
Dangling
visions in view,
Flights
of fancy nestling in my hands,
Dreams
slipping into my plans.
The
smell of openness...
The
waft of peace...
The
fragrance of new life unleashed.
A
rumble of uncertainty...
A
clash of fears,
Becomes
sweet music to my ears...
A
momentary glimpse,
Of
the pieces of my resistance...
A
mosaic of my existence.
12.11.03 |
| You Need To Reflect |
|
If
no one complains,
Does
that mean you’re pardoned,
For
the crimes that run through your veins?
If
there is blindness,
Will
your acts against love,
Be
mistaken for kindness?
And,
in your freedom,
Are
you open to the world,
Outside
your inner kingdom?
Can
you try justice?
See
if it fits over your ‘self’,
That
misshapen form of a kiss?
Things
are not fixed...
Times
change the pieces, the place,
And
you, my friend, were tricked.
You
were not awesome...
In
your moments of ‘power’,
Those
at your feet were a sign you could force them.
They
were your shadow,
Your
fearful inner self denied,
Bravely
showing your depths were not so shallow.
They
were the crushing,
You
felt inside when all was still...
The
torturous pain from which you were rushing.
They
were the demons,
From
which you longed to hide,
Lying
bare before you, as you forced them to bond.
And
so, as before,
Their
darkness prevails over you,
But
only you are left with the weeping chasms that were torn.
And
you were misled,
By
your own fierce determination,
To
scramble away from the thoughts in your head.
And
you came crashing,
Invading...pummelling
the sights,
Smothering
innocence with your incessant lashings.
There
at the crossroads,
You
chose to go straight on,
Balancing
on others your heavy loads.
Is
your weight lighter?
Do
you feel jaunty in your step,
Now
that you’re the fighter?
Or
are you doomed?
As
your lessons gain momentum,
Ready
to bear down upon you, as you once loomed.
Things
are not fixed...
Times
change the pieces, the place,
And
you, with sight, need not be tricked.
So,
do not neglect,
That
terrified child in you still cowers,
And
you need to reflect.
10.10.03 |
| WLTM |
|
When
head met heart,
He
understood -
Reason
told him where she lay...
And
where she lay,
She
felt his pain,
In
a language she couldn’t say.
She
ached for him,
To
share his hurts...
A
weight he had sense to feel.
He
questioned her,
But
logic failed,
To
slow the treads of her spinning wheel.
He
wove those threads into stories,
That
he’d share so thoughtful and slow...
She’d
listen then, and understand,
What
she’d been too blind to know.
But,
when they met,
And
her he called,
That
they may huddle by the fire,
She
felt him hard,
He
thought her shy...
Too
shy to surrender to her desire.
So,
walking slow,
That
long, deep night...
The
air of sorrow in her wild hair...
Little
but knowing,
He
watched over,
Breezing
around her, wanting to share...
Peace
sighing through,
Ceasing
torment,
As
she breathed each breath clear...
He
the one free,
To
be her sight,
Looking
at images formed in tears.
And
reason stands,
Alone,
without her,
And
at that, on unsteady ground,
As
emotions fade,
Behind
the bars,
That
leave her without sound...
When
he’d think aloud,
A
crying shame,
That
he’d never held her when she wept,
Leaving
only footprints,
To
say he’s been her only comfort in her darkest depths.
16.10.03 |
| The Passage Of
Time |
|
Almost
tangible,
Were
those glittering memories...
Vital
with lifeÉ
Precious
like glistening jewels,
Set
in the corridors of my mind.
Gems...that
may come gushing out,
In
the twilight of my days...
Twinkling
lights,
In
the black expanse,
Cascading
down these walls.
Their
shimmering beauty,
Translucent
from where I view them...
Held
between light and darkness,
Past
and future...
Virility
captured,
If
only for a time...
08.10.03 |
| Overlooking Oversights |
Reviewing,
The
things I’m pursuing...
Counting
the steps that I’ve made up till now.
Judging
myself, on what, when, and how,
The
echoes of darkness shine on future’s day.
As
the past speeds ahead,
To
pave the way,
Wisps
of memories trail across view...
Brushing
shoulders,
With
other guests that I knew...
As
I personally bless and thank each one...
For
the lessons I’ve learnt,
Or,
have yet to come...
That
peel away my ego’s cover...
Like
teasing, or ripping the clothes off a lover,
I’m
left bare,
And
seen...
As
the whole,
Of
all the things that I’ve been,
And,
proud of the nakedness, I expose without shame,
All
the things I had,
Have,
and will be again.
As
I learn the next level,
Of
that which I know...
I
look down,
With
an aerial view, to below,
And
see my ‘self’,
Reviewed,
By
the very same things,
I’d
once pursued!...
Counting
the steps,
That
I’ve made up till now...
Judging me, on
what, when, and how...
As
the past speeds ahead,
To
pave the way,
The
echoes of darkness,
Shine
on future’s day.
10.09.03 |
| Leading From Inside |
Oh,
beautiful light,
Shining
with me-
Leading
from inside,
Till
outside I see;
Till
outside I see,
Oh,
beautiful light,
That
battles are won,
By
ceasing to fight;
By
ceasing to fight,
Till
outside I see,
There
is love within all,
And
all within me;
And
all within me,
By
ceasing to fight,
Lessons
are learnt,
From
wrong, to right;
From
wrong, to right,
By
ceasing to fight,
I
set myself free,
So
I can see;
So
I can see,
From
wrong, to right,
I
change perception;
I
view from a height;
I
view from a height,
So
I can see,
The
ebbs and flows-
Life’s
energies;
Life
energies,
I
view from a height,
And
a pattern emerges,
Within
inner sight;
Within
inner sight,
Life’s
energies,
Begin
to merge,
So
peacefully;
So
peacefully,
Within
inner sight,
All
darkness is gone...
Oh,
beautiful light;
Oh,
beautiful light,
Shining
with me-
Leading
from inside,
Till
outside I see.
25.11.03 |
| On The Platform
Of Choice |
Words
of reassurance,
That
may take root...
Interrupted
By
the freight train of thought -
Carriage
after carriage,
Dashing
by...
It’s
fake lights,
Capturing
my attention,
As
they come,
Flashing
by.
Just
by looking,
I’m
on the ride...
Words
of peace,
Patiently
wait,
By
the side.
No
rushing...
No
pressure...
Waiting
for me...
Only
me.
They
see my worth,
My
beautiful soul...
And
gaze,
At
their leisure...
For
I’ll be some time,
Before
I’m able to see,
The
person others know me to be...
And
that rhythm...
Those
bright lights...
The
speed of the train...
Mesmerises
me...
Lures
me away...
Away...
Again
and again.
22.12.03 |
| Drizzlisms |
Wenchquenching
Are
these, sweet sips;
Drizzlisms...
Oooozing
from his lips...
Tricklelicking
their way,
Down
my velvet hips...
Moistidity...
Sssteeeamiiing...
In
the swollen dips...
Pouterous
parts...
Begin
to slip...
Yeeearrrnerosssity...
Across
me,
Whiiipsss...
CLIIIMAAAXIMOUSSS,
AAACHABIIILITY...
Riiiipppsss...
09.02.04 |
Quilt Class |
|
This
life of mine,
It
may be short,
But,
it’s bigger,
Than
any life I’ve known.
A
hundred lifetimes,
All
entwined...
Like
patchwork pieces,
They
have been sown.
Old
favourites,
Not
discarded, but,
Their
very fabric,
Saved
and cut.
Painstaking
stitches,
Bring
them together...
Handcrafted
comfort,
Against
ill weather.
An
heirloom,
A
hand-me-down...
As
precious though,
As
a crushed-silk wedding gown
Complete,
Though
not quite finished...
Whole,
But
not yet done...
For
now I am saved fabric,
And
a template shall be made...
Needles
and thread shall again be gathered...
The
quilt making has just begun.
01.11.03
All works
copyright S A Chamberlain 2004
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