PAINTER and POEt
BRUNELLA Bee SHERRY
A small sample of my writing. I have written hundreds of poems throughout my life.
Meditation bathtub
My eyes close,
Ears below the water,
I begin to meditate,
The only sound, my heart.
My brain slows down,
My soul knows when it’s ready.
Then it begins,
Like little gifts,
Words, colours,
compositions rise up from the warmth.
I keep a notebook,
On a chair beside the tub,
I mustn’t let this beautiful creativity
evaporate with the steam,
as it escapes when I open the door.
Rain
It's an obvious thing to say,
it rains often in Ireland.
Well it does, and
I don't mind it.
But then I work indoors,
Mostly.
I tend to write more on a very wet day.
The rain makes me deeply thoughtful,
Reflective,
Creative.
The sun shone for the last week,
Unusual,
Grateful,
But everyone got too loud.
The rain makes people quiet,
Quiet is heavenly.
Too much sun here,
Makes birds dizzy,
One flew into the window,
Slapped the glass hard.
Fell to the ground
Stumbled,
Found it's balance
And composure.
I see a similar bird just now,
Sucking up food from the soil,
I'm convinced it's the same bird
I hope so,
It recovered well.
The rain facilitates recovery,
Allowing one to dig deep within their shell.
Try not to be a colourless flamingo
I read somewhere,
Flamingos get their vibrant pink from their nutrition and environment.
I saw some once in a zoo,
They looked so pale and forlorn.
They shouldn’t have been there.
They ought to have been in the wild.
Soaking up every ounce of goodness.
I remember thinking people are like colourless flamingos at times,
When they are void of spiritual nourishment.
I thought one must walk away from people and places that drain their inner peace.
It was many years ago I witnessed the sadness of those flamingos in captivity,
I will never forget them.
I like to imagine they flew up and away to freedom,
Back to the warmth and wild,
Slowly every shade of pink and orange,
Filled their fabulous plumage,
I fall asleep sometimes,
Imagining the restoration of their joy.
Oil paint
Oil paint,
reminds me of two other fabulous creations,
Olive oil and butter.
Initially, softly I go,
Then as I progress,
Squelch!
Out it all comes!
Transports my mind to another time.
Connects me to painters of the past.
I love that.
Slow to dry,
Slows thinking right down.
One looks forward to the impromptu brushstrokes that happen along the way,
They are fortuitous.
From that little tube,
To my hand,
Almost rhythmically.
Together with my head and heart,
I take a deep breath,
I ask God to stay with me,
As I continue to paint,
Paint my story.
Peace
Whilst one sips their first cuppa,
The house should be quiet,
Before anyone else stirs,
So quiet you’d think that no one in the entire world had stirred.
Peace.
When a brave woman brings life into this world,
A tranquil environment is imperative,
Everyone around her supplying strength and calm,
Setting the tone for the child’s life,
Peace.
Schools evoking encouragement, and reassurance.
The design and the layout,
Where creative ideas thrive,
Negativity given no chance to survive.
Sunlight flooding in through large windows,
Both stimulating and soothing young minds,
Peace.
Why do most of us go through life forgetting that which is vital,
Until we reach middle age,
After so many wasted years surrounded by noise.
Peace is fundamental to all of us,
We must have it everyday,
It is utterly priceless,
Please, let there be peace.
Laugh
Go on laugh!
Laugh at yourself,
Laugh at me,
As my grandfather used to say,
“Let them laugh
Isn’t it great to see people laughing “
Laugh at life’s absurdity,
Laugh at the funny little things people say.
I heard a lady say in a cafe once,
“ I can get three cups out of one bag”
Then she pulled a proud lip.
Laugh at the light hearted things that happen,
Like yesterday I saw a young chap who was walking along, miss the kerb.
He was immersed in his music.
He got there in the end,
I only laughed because he hadn’t hurt himself.
It also amusing how he looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
For the rest of my life I intend to laugh more.
Laughter,
The magical elixir of life.
Elixir, in ancient times meant,
A potion for healing wounds.
So my friends when you’re going through the storm,
Laughter,
Even a little bit,
Will get you the other side of it.
When the petals fall
We all need someone to be there when the petals fall,
When challenges arise,
More often than not
They come as a surprise.
The years disappear like petals,
Falling to the ground,
Not a whisper,
Not a sound.
That someone who will be there,
Will come in all shapes and sizes,
All that matters is,
Their sincerity shows no guises.
When life is incredibly tough
I often think,
Had I been given a choice,
I would never have agreed to this,
But it when it is beyond beautiful,
My gratitude floats up like a balloon,
Before it goes pop...
You can hear it hiss!