Friday, 5 October 2012

The answer is in the bubble

You ask me ...
Can I love you
as I do my writing,
my poetry?

So I ask you in response ...
Can you take me "home",
accept me as I am,
and inspire me as words do?

Your look is questioning,
I see it in your eyes,
the thoughts that cross your mind;
so please let me explain

Writing poetry is ...

the solitude in my noisy life,
the warm cup of soup when I am ill,
strong arms that hold me when I sleep alone,
music that drowns out criticism,
the gentle tissue that wipes away my tears,
encouragement to climb the most rugged mountain,
strength to leap in the knowledge I may fall,
a magical suit of armour to face my fears,
a kaleidoscope of colours to guide me through dark passages,
the whispers of understanding when I am confused,
laughter in a time of sadness or despair,
and fireworks exploding in the sky,
as I watch excitedly from within my travelling bubble of security and belief.

Writing poetry is ...
nourishment for the hungry soul,
a compass through hopes and dreams,
a landfill of promise

Truth spills from the pen ...
raw, bare
and unencumbered
by veils of ambiguity

So I ask you ...
is this the type of home you would build for my heart?
And if you think it is ...
then yes, I could love you as my writing

But remember ...
this bubble does not burst;
Are you brave enough
to promise the same?

(c) Dianne Traynor  5 October 2012
(c) Photography courtesy of Bryan Kidd

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