Monday, 31 August 2015

The Silver Lining

There’s a silver lining
waiting to be seen,
by the eye that can perceive

purpose; and if not purpose, meaning.
And if not meaning,
then at least,

a gift.

That might look just
a little different,
to what we were wanting.

Hard to recognise,
and to become accustomed;
but always, always

what we need.

It’s just we never know
what we need,
until it comes to us,

in forms we didn’t expect.
But if we look, if we look
we find what it was that we needed

by what we get.

Perhaps silver linings are
treasure, greater than the
fulfilment of our small intents.

Their value lies in their
sneaking up, and
catching us unawares.

Leading us to reassess,
the true purpose here.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2015

Upper Harbour, Whenuapai, Auckland, New Zealand

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Fooling Ourselves

We fool ourselves.
Believe ourselves to be attached fast
to the leaf.
But shaking in the wind,
as blossoms on the branch;
buffeted enough,
we find ourselves,

We fool ourselves.
That it won’t be our turn.
Comforting others,
measuring out
our careful wisdom.
We forget there will be a day,
we will need,
our own medicine.

But we all have our days,
in the sun,
when we blossom, and bloom.
While the days in the wind,
we resist and turn from;
though they come
to everyone.

So I fool myself.
Believe myself secure,
and steadfast.
Living tree, roots deep in the ground.
And I am: deeply rooted,
and aware of my source.
Yet the wind, with a life of its own, 
still abounds.

 But what if I said ‘come’?
Come wind, what may.
Lift my blossoms, torn off my limbs,
give them breath, and uplift.
Show them the view
from up high.
Show them there’s more ahead,
than what I can see, right now.

And that my security,
my security lies not,
in holding on, till my petals are damp,
and torn.
But in letting go,
in finding freedom in the uncertainty,
trusting in the life source
of all things.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2015

‘In this life you must find something to live for,
or when the darkness comes crawling you’ll go back to where you were before.
Because this life is as fragile as a dream
and nothing is ever really as it seems.’
Lily Kershaw, ‘As it Seems’

Monday, 3 August 2015

Poetry is

Poetry is

Flying without wings
Uplift without a breath of wind
Dancing on the air
While still firmly on our feet.

Yes Poetry is

The gift to put to music,
the images that come.
Weaving words to give them life
and movement of their own.

Oh Poetry is

Insight and observation.
A longing to crystallise,
into permanence,
rhyme and reason for it all.

Except Poetry is

The ability to see things afresh,
to understand the nuances
and on the shifting carpet

So Poetry is 

Conflict at the core.
As joys and sorrows surge
we rise and we fall.
At the mercy of time’s passage,

while in the current standing still.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2015

Taupo, New Zealand