Our Poems

Thoughts –  followed by some poems.

♥ Thoughts of three Woking Friends

  • What would it be like to share the emotions you are experiencing right now? It could be that someone present will benefit and be inspired by the gift  of your openness.
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  • The world invites us to take notice. There is a rhythm to our Meeting that embraces the ebb and flow of our thoughts and feelings, the movement of branches, the sound of children and traffic. All these things help us reconnect with ourselves and with each other. What value is there to you in remembering that we are one?

♥ Awakened Memories by Moiya Bewsher

The mind was quiet, still, calm as an untroubled pond,
When something disturbed its peace.
Barely breaking the surface,
A song, a journey an anniversary,
But it was enough to disturb the sunken silt
Which lies at the bottom of our being,
Gaining depth with each passing year,
Enough to cause the waters to become
A swirling torrent of raging emotion,
Throwing up strange debris.
The flotsam and jetsam of half remembered
Times passed. Long ago irrelevant.
Wounds now healed, which should have been
Barely discernable scars, re-opened,
Flung themselves to the surface
In a motley array of strange inconsistencies,
Unreasoned, purposeless memories, which chased each other,
Diving and surfacing ceaselessly
Pointlessly, but preventing any kind of tranquility
For a seeming age.
Eventually the storm blew itself out and
The memories sank, once more untroubled.

Ode to a Washing Machine Moiya Bewsher

Come, whirring wings and drive the unclean linen
Spinning round thy welcome warm embrace
For in thy frantic fury lies such force.
With water hot wipe out these spots and smears
Eradicate the stained, polluted marks
That do besmirch these wondrous clothes you love.
Oh, planet destroying powder,
With your mighty strength, return to white all that has
Fallen from its perfection, and now looks
Grey, dull, tarnished and forgotten.
Thy froth must rise, and as the angry waves
Do hurl themselves upon the cliffs to wear
Those great and mighty rocks down to tiny stones,
So thou dost hurl thyself against the door,
Glass –fronted, locked ‘gainst the untamed force.
Straining to unleash the mighty torrent
And then unchecked to flood the kitchen floor.
But, as the tireless bee ceaselessly drones
In her perpetual hunt for the sweet nectar,
So thy sweet humming such joys brings,
Sending the washing whirling in thy drum.
Till, gathering speed in abandoned frenzy
To reach a crescendo of wild excitement, the climax is achieved !
Exhausted by the tumble lie the clothes.
So satisfied they reached such ecstacy.
Content to lie and rest in they great heart
Until the time when thou and they must part.
Oh, anguish now, the damp contented clothes
Are borne away to hang upon a line
Blown hither and thither by every wanton breeze
That blows its wind upon their captive form,
And whips the moisture from their brow.
Such thoughts, such dreams do torture true desire,
When one does consider thee, dear clothes
Hanging, helpless and alone on that thin line
Then haply you’ll all be worn again
And next week, be-grimed, return to stat anew.

My Sacred Space Patricia Norman

I take a breath
I find a place
Within myself
My sacred space

I close my eyes
I quiet my mind
Be by myself where I will find
That place in me
Where I can be
In touch with my spirituality
Angels and Guides will join me there
Pure love flows in and
I will share
The peace and simplicity
That allows true love
To flow through me.

Solitude’s not Loneliness by Jean Kenyon
(after the style of Emily Dickinson)

Solitude’s not Loneliness
or galling state of mind;
as long as Freely Chosen
her Gifts are unconfined;
it doesn’t mean rejecting life’s
oft relentless pace,
but tenders time to – Pause – Reflect —
find Joy in Timeless Space.

Solitude is Dawn’s first Hint
of Light unlocking day
as Prelude to another Scene –
Creation’s Awesome Play.

Solitude’s a Sparkling Song
rendered by the nightingale –
a rivulet’s Sweet Cadences
on polished pebbles wedged in shale.

Expectant wafts of Jessamine
in Ninfa’s garden – then –
tune in the Hidden Soul
of Solitude again.

Salty breezes skim the fields,
season lips, Enhance the Mind
of single jogger threading through
south east England’s country wynds.

Dusk – a Perfect Epilogue –
Solitude’s true friend,
Body Healed – Mind Soothed at
Long Day’s End.