Of An Ode To Time

Existing as a whole,
Yet uniquely,
Fragmented,
Balanced,
The weakness of strength
Counter balanced by
The strength in weakness
Infinite possibilities,
All linked,
as the time piece turns,
Measuring,
Ticking,
Cogs within cogs within cogs,
turning,
Varying yet aligned
The shapes that give us form and the lessons we learn from.
Our mind and the Soul.
One mysterious,
the other simply complex,
one a machine,
the other a ghost within.
Birth and death,
Beginnings into Endings
To begin again,
As time just is
Connected to all things………,

Ending just as eventually all things END

The END

time

~B

Day 15 of my blog everyday challenge…… A poem, an ode to time, the mystery and fragility of life……

 

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Of Moonlit Letters To A Muse

My Dearest Mable

Today is neither your birthday nor the anniversary of the first letter you wrote me on your blog almost a year ago. I remember each word almost like I just read it before I started writing you this letter…………..

dear Beaton letter

Ok, ok, I confess, I just finished rereading it again, for the zillionth time……….

I have always started to write a reply back each time and have gone as far as:

Dear Mable

And I then I fail to come up with words that would be a reply worthy of the honour you did me.

letter from mable

letter from Mable

Today however, I will sit here and I will write.

Today is not a holiday neither is it your birthday, it’s not even a full moon night, this February did not have a single full moon although January had two including a lunar eclipse. Imagine I am writing this on a full moon, as I imagine you reading this beneath the moonlit night sky.

You make me smile, you make laugh and most of all you just might be as crazy as you think I am.

That sounds like something I ciuld have whispered to you, in my past life, you might have been my favourite wife, or the lady who danced to all my songs and finished the sentences to all my stories made them right…

The universe might have conspired to place time and distance between us but across various timelines and multitudes of possibilities we would always find each other.

I love the sun

But I dream of The Moon,

All that The Sun gives away

The moon takes,

Sunlight by day

Moonnlight by night

Fulfilling the promises

Let The Be Light……..

Imagine this were a moonlit night and I whispered these words into the breeze, beneath the moon’s milky twilight, petals in the wind dancing with their beloved, as the moonbeam strikes a chord on the window seal.

On nights such as these I stare out of the window to see the moon of my dreams and picture myself howling at it, like a mythical being as I imagine you looking at the same moon and thinking of me too.

The same moon that shines in my sky watches over you too, wherever so you may be, its as if I too will be there by your side. Even when the sun itself is shining we will always have the moon, it may not be as big nor as bright but it is way more magical……

Moon howling

The Full-moon Poet

Today is not a holiday, neither is it your holiday but I thought to not let it pass without me immortalizing you in the only way I know how

All My Love

~B

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Coffee And More Cake

African Sunset Cake

We are going to need more cake……..

If you were having coffee with me, I would be very happy to welcome you to my this hear wonderful space, I would ask you if I looked older?

Beaton Grey

Rich with strands of silver, Embracing my beard’s winter As I stand in the sun….

It was my birthday just the other day in case you missed it……. Your birthday is when you get to experience what it feels like to be a celebrity, people being nice to you simply because you were born, but only for a day.

If you were having coffee with me I would tell that if I had to share a slice of cake wwith everyone I promised a slice, we would definitely need more cake. I would share some of my favourite messages from all over the internet:

Edwina

Zilencube

RaggedUrban

Mablees

The best rumours I have I heard about me I started them myself…

Fiona

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you that I am a walking contradiction, my totem is a flame and my spirit animal is fire but my star sign is Pisces a water element, what happens when Fire meets water; why magic happens of course.

T.W.

pisces born 22 february

I still haven’t watched Black Panther scandalous as that may be, and so I navigate my internet timeline cautiously trying not to step on spoilers as people go about tagging #WakandaForever. I wonder wakanda character I would have been if Wakanda were real, but not to fret soon as I watch, a review will be coming up!!!!

If you were having coffee with me I would ask if you see the irony in saying:

 “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun”

when the only person who gains from is the person who manufactures/sells the guns.

I don’t watch the news much, but it still filters down to me, the atrocities people commit for various reasons and causes. The really is no-one is more dangerous than a person who believes in the righteousness of their cause.

If you are having coffee with me I would tell you that birthdays are but an excuse to eat cake, so we are going to need more cake….

africa themed cake

~B

PS Final its complete the poetry duet I was doing with Mable where I would write something and she would RIGHT it give it a look see:

I wrote Of The Broken Mugged Man

She replied with Bruised Not Broken

I wrote Of UnBreaking

She responded with Hearts

Next I wrote Of Heart Petals In The Wind

And she said finally righted it You and I

PPS Mable definitely next Wednesday.

 

Of Heart Petals In The Wind

rose petals drifting

Once upon a time,
I stood by the window,
I watched as the breeze,
Blew away with harsh ease,
Petals from the flowers in my china mug vase,
I watched as they floated away from me,
Just like so many of my dreams,
petals from the deep folds of my heart,
one by one all but forgotten,
I watched still,
as the last petal blew past the window sill,
Freely given

rose petal in the wind
I held out my hand out the window,
and reached into the breeze,
I closed my hand around it,
and felt it flutter in the palm of my clasped hand,
like a tiny beating heart,
fluttering like a butterfly,
The happiness it brought was enchanting,
I feared clutching it to tightly would crush it,
yet I feared that opening my palm,
would free it to be gone forever,
freely given,
I unclapsed my hand,
to reveal the gift the breeze held.
If you too would float away,
My petal in the wind……

heart petal in hand

~B

5th part of a 6th part duet, I write something and Mable rights it

She last wrote: hearts

 

Of UnBreaking

heart shaped bandage

Hearts,
Hearts are delicate but never fragile,
They bruise but neither broken nor unravel
Like pieces of a favoured porcelain mug
With a bit of patience and a lot of glue,
I put back each piece as best as I could,
The sharp jagged edges cut as would tiny a razor blade,
A price I gladly pay for my mug remade.
If only it had turned out the way I hoped
Alas its a crazy quilt jigsaw,
Stitched up with nothing but glue,
Each day I learn to like it a little bit more,
Even appreciate its flaws as my own.
Its ok if nobody else likes it,
I am good all by myself.
The once favourite mug broken and glued together again,
Its no longer what it was,
It leaks ever so slightly still
Now a vase for a flower by the window sill…….

broken mug flower vase

 

~B

Third part of a six part duet; I write something and Mable rights it……

She Wrote: Bruised, Not Broken

 

Of The Broken Mugged Man

 

broken Mug

Broken china cup pieces,
Litter the kitchen floor,
I am awake picking up the shards,
A fragment of a red red heart,
Broken,
Just like mine,
Losing words and heat,
Just like me,
………………..shattered

broken heart mug
I never wanted much,
Now I expect even less.
Yesterday this was my favourite mug,
Today it’s a mess,
Yesterday I was loved,
Today I pick pieces from the floor,
A shattered mug bleeding out its core
Just like mine
……………….Unlovable,
Where do broken mugs go?
Time ticks everything away,
Picking up pieces from the floor,
I don’t weep I know how this story ends,
You told me yourself,
The unlovable wind up in one place
Just like me
………………..Discarded.

Discarded

 

~B

This is the first part of a six part duet, I write something then Mable rights it…..

 

Of Why I Write

flipping pages

Blank pages ……

I am genetically engineered to write,
My genes are punctuated with metaphors,
And an irresistible need to write..
I am writer,
It’s not what I do,
It is who I am,
I take off my shoes before I write,
To sort of humble myself before,
All the words inside of me,
Words written but never spoken,

Words to fill up the blank pages 

….You read a part of me in every word I write…
The parts of me you read, are not just pieces of me, but make me up.

Every word of mine you read,
You take a part of me with you

What will you do with the lil bit of my soul that you take with you?

Dipping a pen into my blood
I write myself a soul
pouring out a multitude of words,
brushing away the excess,
A little more of me drips onto every page,
In time,
I will be the book and the book will be me
and my story will be told

Becoming The Muse

 

~B

 

page scrolling

becoming the muse why I write 2018

Of Being An Introvert

Its World Introvert Day

world introvert day

Shout out to all my fellow introverts who are perfectly comfortable to sit in silence without feeling the need fill it up with awkward conversation and meaningless noise.

Introverts are a somewhat misunderstood sort, in a world that wont stop talking and all you want is a perfect moment of silence.

I feel lost in a crowd and I get asked the question “why are you quiet?” a lot, its not because I have nothing to say; I am always on the verge of words, yet never quite speaking; almost say things much more often than I say them.

why dont we all sit in a big circle hold hands and sing kumbaya?

~me attempting to socialise in the awkward silence at family reunions

Shout out to the Quarter Wife for sharing The Introverts Holiday Survival Guide

I write to know am not alone….

I want to be a mystery
yet be known,
to be in a crowd,
yet alone,
famous,
yet unknown,
To be a wanderer,
yet have a home…….

My personality type is INFP that basically means I’m like an onion, deeply metaphoric, made up of enigmatic layers beneath layers wrapped up in more layers & if I cut myself I cry

INFP means:

  Introverted
iNtuitive
  Feeling
  Perceiving

This all adds up to create an individual (such as myself lol) who is creative and highly empathetic; listening to many people but actually talking to a tiny elite circle who really know the crazyness that lurks beneath the surface..

i got your back clip art

Here are my favourite authors who are also INFP:

William Shakespeare, J.R.R Tolkien And George Orwell

I am not a huge fan in labels and confining yourself, I am a firm believer in that to define is to limit; but knowing what sort of individual you may be makes you better able to play your strengths and work on your weaknesses.

What is your personality type, do you know? You could try the free version here

~B

wizard within beaton

The world in my head is unlike what you can possibly imagine

Of Tomorrow: A Place A day Away

Tomorrow comes, when tomorrow comes……

tomorrow loading button

I dream of tomorrow a place better than today and then I wake up tomorrow is today, tomorrow never comes……

The future is filled with tomorrows that become today, a day at a time.

Life is a poetry of possibilities,

Fused with expectations and uncertainties.

Tomorrow comes. And how often can a man say that? “Every night, because tomorrow always comes everyday, after every night”

I live in a world where planning ahead is hard. Our economy is burning, hard cash in hand is worth more than money in the bank, and everybody is running a hustle. In 2008 a bank apocalypse happened; savings and pensions eroded in value to nothing; overnight, and everyday feels like a day away from the same thing happening all over again…..

Tomorrow comes when tomorrow comes.

Tomorrow never waits.

By the time my parents were my age,

they had:

three children,

 two cars,

 one house

and a dog named Bingo…..

I loved that dog, a German Shepard big and mean looking but gentle as kitten, unless it felt we were threatened, strangers, suspicious characters, the odd postman. Today I cant afford to keep a pet, I cannot even afford to feed myself three square meals plus snacks, the kind of diets we had growing up.

My parents had this life thing on track, they had life policies, invested in shares and those pension plans which pay out a windfall 25+ odd years later. The economy crashed and all that turned to a little less than pocket change.

Today I found a dividend cheque in the mail, it should have been paying my mum a neat little windfall back in the original economy…. but today it pays out USD$1.40

Dividend.jpg

Cheque.jpg

And I ask myself where do I even begin to plan for my retirement, one day I would like to do something really nice for my mum, like by her car to replace the one I know she sold to send us all to school but never told us about… maybe tomorrow I will.

Next year we have elections… the ruling party candidate is the current president, he has been president all my life, he turns 93 in February. Zimbabwe will decide and it seems everything awaits that; what comes after…? Politics in Africa is a messy affair.

And still I dream of tomorrow, a place not like today, or yesterday… a place where things are better…

~B

Day 5 of my blog everyday challenge

 

Of My Selfish Love

being loved by a writer;

Dear Muse;

Heart.jpg

When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I am selfishly in love with you
I love myself through you.
I love seeing myself through your eyes,
I love seeing myself through my eyes,
imagining how I look through your eyes
I love watching you read the words I wrote
and secretly knowing that they are for your eyes only,
although the whole world can read them too,
When I say I am in love with you;
I mean I love to see you listening to all the stories I have to share,
I love having you to express to;
my opinions,
my profound theories and beliefs,
Especially the silliest things,
along with the important things in my life.
I love hearing myself say these things as I imagine how they sound to you,
and how enthralled I imagine you are with me as I am;
With me.

When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I love having;
Someone beautiful to wear,
like a favourite outfit.
I love the way you feel on me.
I love the way I feel about me when you are with me.
When I say I am love with you I mean I love how familiar you feel,
like I have known you forever,
in a place without time or in another life,
somewhere between my past life and my next life.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love not being alone.
I love not being that tree falling in the forest that no one heard;
That book that has never been read.
I love having you as my full-time personal audience.
When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I want you to give me all of your most precious gift;
Your Undivided Attention.
I want to be the reason your world lights up,
as you watch the fire that is me,
Burn.
I mean would burn down to the ground for you;
so you could watch me from its ashes rise like a phoenix.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with being your sun,
monopolizing your orbit, being your gravity,
keeping you drawn back to me no matter how hard you try to jump or fly,
keeping you down.
Keeping you mine.
Lighting up your world
When I say I’m in love with you what I mean is I love staring at myself in the mirror only to see you standing behind me smiling
When I say I’m in love with you I mean I love
being your mystery,
your riddle,
being what keeps you up at night,
your addiction,
your obsession.
I love being your altar,
your sacrament,
your icon,
your miracle.
I love being your answer.
I love being the object of your sacrifice.
I love being your pain.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean that if I had to write down what gives me joy in one word it would be your name,
I love your voice,
When you say my mine,
Your lips,
When you smile at me.
Your eyes,
When you looking at me,
And when you do all three at the same time;
For an instant; time stops.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with breathing your air, eating your dreams.
I’m in love with being your drug,
your drug dealer
your dagger
your lil secret
Your Joy
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next love,
about my ex-love,
About how they will never compare to you or understand me like you do
about how beautiful things were,
How crazy,
How intense,
How storybook,
What a couple we were,
and how you gradually, inexplicably,
Bit by bit,
Disappeared.
How I still wait for you like the man who can not be moved;
When I say I’m in love with you,
What I really mean is that
only you make me Me,
and all the stories I have yet to write;
You Are My Muse.

~B