Ocean Spring

A Collaboration of Cassa and Lucy

dark clouds gather overheadĀ as the rolling thunder
sets my soul on fire
lightning brings about the sparkĀ 
I longed to ignite our flameĀ 

overflowing in the depths of my tempestuous heartĀ 
my inner sense of desire
yearning for the calm waves to wash over meĀ 

ever so gentle rhythmic in unison with my heart beat
the lull of your breathing brings aboutĀ 
a peaceful and serene plateau of joyous abandonmentĀ 

your voice, so quiet and sublime
echos in the distance far from silent ears
nothing measures up to the peace you grant me
the gentle trickle spring you let inĀ 
in painstaking patience
nourishes my weathered heart

unbeknown to you
the frozen particles in my being thaw in your presence
you are the heart and soul of my universeĀ 
your spring overflows my cupĀ 

A Woman with Few Words

There are riches within me
that may not surface in words
Words I utter often in solo, acoustic or quietened sound
Sound is such a gravitating instrument
An instrument appeal to particular ears

There are many dialogues in my head
I swim in my own head and thoughts
never feel the need to voice them
They are neither crazy nor important natured
I enjoy organising them internally in the space between my ears

When I do get to say them aloud
they are simple and in plain languages
that I am sure the audience cannot mistake their meanings or weight
If I use the minimum amount of words in the most simple form
then there is little misunderstanding
and little chance to be twisted

If I say
‘I love you’
and it means simply that in the most weighty way

My Thoughts on Artists

I visited Van Gogh Alive exhibition. His art and life overwhelmed me. I was overtaken by a range of emotions. I was exhilarated by his unique vibrant earthy brush strokes and accompanied by sadness of him dying a tormented man. I was encouraged by the brotherly love which Vincent and Theo shared. He believed in him and devoted his life to support him and promote his art.

Vincent’s art to me, spoke the flesh and blood labouring and mental reality in humanity; almighty God’s undeniable beautiful creation in nature; an extraordinary gifted man’s journey in self-discovery, self-doubt and unquenchable passion in life itself.

We may be sadden by the fact that Vincent died a poor, insane and unknown artist who seemed to labour in vain.

On the other hand, we may be encouraged by the fact that his God given talent, gift and passion withstands the test of time and human limitation.

Some, if not most of us feel defeated by the fact that our writings have not been acknowledged or recognised. There are few of us will gain the approval of man while we are still alive. I don’t know about you. I can only speak for myself. My passion for writing doesn’t die just because unseen by men. It is part of who I am. My Creator who fashioned me sees me.

– Psalm 139:13-14
For You shaped me, inside and out.
You knitted me together in my motherā€™s womb long before I took my first breath.
I will offer You my grateful heart, for I am Your unique creation, filled with wonder and awe.
You have approached even the smallest details with excellence;
Your works are wonderful;
I carry this knowledge deep within my soul.

https://videopress.com/v/YrsGMVWH?preloadContent=metadata
Van Gogh Alive Sydney 1 October 2020

The Middle Finger to The Seven Virtues

The Living Poetry prompt – Virtuous


Temperance rivals with yolo
Charity veils sinister corruption
Chastity cops technicality in the arse
Diligence finds no place in fast money
Humility runs a mile from self promotion
Patience means Amazon vs of Amazon Prime
Kindness shies away from publicised name and shame

Unread Emails

4631 unread email
How?!?

well
that’s easy
I carelessly ticked the agreement box
and then came the flood of subscription emails
not only did the subscribed content appear
but also their family and remote relatives

I felt overwhelmed
then procrastinating
then denial
then avoidance
then anxiety
then guilt

eventually
the elimination of the email inbox
and that’s how I lost your emails
I am sorry
hehe…

Desert Succulents

she is scooped up by the abrasive desert wind
the forced settlement cannot break her spirit
in her arid bed sleeps her shallow roots

she is thirsty for life
the desert rain is often light and brief
too sudden and too short lived for most
for her,
she thrives in conditions others wither

she despises mediocre
the desert sun is scorching and wearing
long suffering brings out her vibrancy
nature trials her with extreme heat and cold
she births uplifting pigments to protect her fragile pose

she is beaten by the violent sandstorm
leaf scorched, foliage torn, uprooted
it seems that she has nothing left to fight
until she senses the coming of fog
and tastes the sweetness of dew

Rebuilt Hearts

Love manifests in a force of connection
The burning of passion gives off a campfire comfort
It is peace I adore in the deep forest of life
The evergreen thrives in a dim rustic old farmhouse
where we build our light filled home with callus hands

My Choice

I choose good memories over trauma
I choose forgiveness over bitterness
I choose hope over despair
Because time is with limit
I rather choose wisely