Tree of Life

Underneath a willow tree
a young lady came one night
And sat underneath it,
For years since she was a little girl
She came to this exact spot.
For years this willow tree has
Never carried any leaves,
a lifeless tree, but underneath it
She found comfort,
She found herself underneath
That spot,
For the first time in years after
The young girl dressed in a red dress,
Asked for something.
Something she never knew
Or thought could come true,
She prayed that night the young lady
Came prepared, she didn't come
There to shed tears,
But she came to make peace with
What's wrestling within her spirit.
God says you who believe in my name will have a heart filled with peace.
She went on her knees as she looks
Up to the sky,
Her hands folds together as she
Cries out, "Does anybody hear me.
God if you their please I need your help.
I'm a lost girl yearning to be loved and understood, something I've never found at home. Just maybe I'm hoping someone would come rescue me from the life I've lived, the pain and the heartache. Some days I don't know if its me looking back in the mirror.
Every day I walk around and I can see all the brokenness but still on they go with their private lives as they hide their silent cries." She starts to sop even harder then she's ever had before.
"God please help me here my cry. I want to change, I want to be complete in your love. I want to be able to stand up and say I'm loved and that I love myself." Tears was rolling down as her cries stretch high above the tree tops that birds came to sit on this willow tree that didn't have any leaves.
Sometimes God use the extraordinary things to make us see that he can use a bare willow tree.
That was the tree of life.
The tree the young girl came to each and everyday and found her peace by
Letting God be her savior.


My Entry for Bluebell Short Story Slam week #19

Solemn Heart

Love Letter 5

26 January 2012

.... Dear

Today is another sad day for me; you know I'm starting to think maybe I've dreamt that you and I will one day find each other. I am so lost inside that I don't know if you actually exist.

Love is sometimes really complicated, but then again we make it complicated. Love is something I've always lived for; I just wanted to be happy.

Happy and in love with my soul mate. I can't grasp how it would be if I stopped believing that you will come find me, I've never truly loved someone this much. Without even meeting them in real life. I've been searching for you my whole my life. It's unbearable to be so crazy and in love with another human being. Having your heart open and bare just to feel you.

I want to believe in us; I don't want to give you up. Knowing that were so far apart that life keeps tearing us further away.

Today I'm sad because I don't know who to listen to anymore. Do I listen to my heart or do I listen to the others.

I don't know if I can live in world where you won't be in.

I dream of us as often as I can. Because life always take us on a journey of self-discovery.

You know why I started writing letters because its more personal I can lay out my heart easier and I feel connected to my words.

I don't know if you'd ever read this letter I hope you do. I've realized that in life you can give up and quit, or you can actually listen to your heart.

Sometimes I lie to my own heart, but what if you can't stop what you feeling for someone, what if you can't shake this feeling that there’s a person out there who's your other half your twin flame.

I remember falling in love with anything romantic until I start writing love poems.

I'm worried that this isn't working. When my soul aches with sorrow for you.

Yielding to the profound feelings, which overwhelm me, I draw from your heart a love that consumes me with fire.

Until then amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire.

"Creo que eres hermosa. Y probablemente no debería decir esta última parte, pero me gustas tu"

Yours Forever Love

Your Art Matters

Your Art Matters

This morning I picked up the paper,

Usually I read the financial section,

But instead I took a brief moment

To see the who’s who in the cosmopolitan

Of the New York Times,

I must say I have found a lot of things,

Especially on what’s happening

In the world of literature and modern art,

Sculptures and new books being released,

I have spotted that the Jewish Art centre

Is shifting identity,

The Judah L Magnes Museum has

Reopened as the Magnes Collection

Of Jewish Art and life,

And is also now part of the library

At the University of California, Berkeley.

I am so delighted that art hasn’t died yet,

Those historic monuments can be carried

Through generation after generation.

We stand to know that Art does matter,

That whatever we do in this life,

That our creativity will never not

Be outnumbered that Art is timeless.

Poetry Picnic Week 23: New York Times Headline Topics

This is from Hyde Park @ Poets rally

Igniting the flame of love

Love Letter 4 

17 January 2012

Tonight silent tears have been falling. I don't know if you're out there if you can feel my heart crying out to you. I realized tonight that I lie to my own heart. That my world seems lonely without you.

I've tried to let go of this hope for someone that's my soul mate.

What kind of love letter is this if I don't even know whom I am writing for anymore?

Did you ever read the story of Eros and Psyche, its a Greek mythology they say its a legend. Their love was timeless.  A tragic love story. One falling deeply in love with someone you can't see.

Someone that's the epitome of your heart.

I remember the grudge Eros's mother had against Psyche. She was a beautiful princess her parents didn't know what to do anymore because everyone desired her, but nobody was suitable for her until one night after she has fallen asleep. Eros sneaked through her window disguising himself doing what his mother has asked of him to make Psyche fall in love with any ugly creature.

As Eros study the features of the women he suppose to shoot she rattled and he scratched himself on the shoulder with the golden arrow, its then Psyche awoken and looked straight into Eros' eyes and he was struck with desire for her. She might not have seen his body, but he has fallen in love with a mortal.

I don't know why I am telling you all this its not like you actually going to come across this letter. When I read this story I felt a sudden sadness as a lonely tear fell down my cheek.

Eros and Psyche was maybe a legend, but the love was real. Eros has a soul connection with her. And she was in love with a God.

There was always someone trying to break them apart. Just like with us. They've said that two souls that's meant to be will always be torn apart by others. Things will always come in their way.

As the story goes on, Psyche one night was told by her sister that Eros isn't real that his a serpent that would kill her.

It was this night Psyche listened to her sister and not her heart in her heart she knew that Eros wasn't going to hurt her, but she then had a oil lamp with her as she knew Eros was laying there beside her, he always said never to switch the light on he didn't want her to fear him. As they made love the oil lamp dropped onto his shoulder and that night the golden arrow scratched Psyche and she falls deeper in love with him also finding that they won't be able to live in a mortal world. He escaped from her room back to his palace.

She's been searching for him and couldn't find him.

She then asked for advice by another God and he sends her to Venus the mother of Cupid also named Eros.

What Venus couldn't understand is this that Psyche has passed every test she has set up for her.

Until Psyche wanted to die because that is the only way she would live eternally with Eros.

But then Eros came to her rescue and went to Zeus to give Psyche ambrosia water its then she became immortal and they've lived a happy life with their daughter.

This is what I call a tragic love. That she wanted to die to be with her one true love. I desire that I want that. Not the death part, but to be eternally in love with you.

I want true love; I want someone that's going to be my best friend and also my true love, my soul mate. The kind of person that wouldn't mind if I disturb them, that want to hear from me anytime. Someone that would enjoy smiling with me. Just holding hands and even in the silence they can sit on the front porch and be content with me.

 A love that can inspire me, someone that I can share all my dreams with. The one I want next to me when my first book gets published. You would be enough for me. Just you and me. That's what I want. I don't have to just settle, but be loved and wanted in return.

Gosh even though I know you're out there dreaming of a life with me. I wish I can reach you in my dreams and tell you how much you mean to me.  How much love I have for you.

I've been crying tonight. I am crying because I don't know if you'll ever want to be with me like I want you.

 Baby just knows this isn't my last letter. Because I won't stop writing until you see that you are my forever love.

Yours Forever Love

My Hearts sings with love (3/1/2012)

My Hearts sings with love (3/1/2012)

I close my eyes as I let the

Strings of Bach, Mozart play through

My fingers as I feel connected

With the violin, the piano,

It gives me the hope of a coming tune,

It’s the joy that my heart sings,

Every chord, that gets played,

Every composer has their own

Tune of rhythm,

Mine is combined by words

Scripted in delicate quotes

As I string them together

As the tempo of my heart

Goes either fast or slow,

 Ludwig' is playing his beat

That it flows and create a major

Turning point to slower tempos

As he gathers his music throughout

The arena he is playing with,

 How amazing is this composer

To have received this talent

To create his passion

So we can discover what music is

All about, it’s the heart

It’s the soul of each poet.

That’s what my heart sings

Of love and such dramatic

Love scenes that I push

It all through my pen

As the ink hits the white paper,

 A deep and emotional tragically drawn

ending to fate hope and love.

Copyright C Davids 2012

Poetry Picnic Week 22: Spring, Colors, Trees, and New Lives

Each Day (4/1/2012)

Each Day

When you meet

Someone

For the very first time

You have new hope,

Everything

About them draws

You into

Their presence.

But later on

Each day

She's different,

Each day

I see a different side.

I want to ask her

The questions

Of why?

But Each day,

I let it slide

Not to put pressure

On her,

Each day

It’s a different mood,

I like when she is open

And tell me what's

On her mind.

But each day

Won't be the same,

Because sometimes

She closes off,

Guarding herself

From letting me in.

Each day

I wish she could let me in.

Copyright C Davids 2012

Invisible Me (12/1/2012)

I love her from the moment

I've first seen her,

With doubtful eyes I've sworn

To never release my true identity

The mask I wear was invisible

To the world.

She was the only one

Who’s seen the invisible me.

The secret I bear until this day

Never has she revealed the real me.

I walk in paths and claim my love.

The hidden truth lies deep our souls.

She was the only one

Who’s seen the invisible me.

A cry from her soul has combined with mine.

That in our walk we'll never depart.

Years gone by we live in fear.

Far fetched from the grounds of women barren.

She was the only one

Who’s seen the invisible me.

The love of trust and honesty

We all are women living the invisible mask.

As we love the same as any gender.

Just the fears of what we are.

Are all foreign to the human race.

The invisible me I'll never be.

Copyright C Davids 2012

Lost Without Passion (12/1/2012)

She was the one who brought

The words out of me

Her hazel green eyes

Was stilled deep within me,

She was the one I wanted

To share all my days with,

But then she left

And my heart has never

Overcome it

As I've mourned the departure

Of her being without me.

Distant shores of no passion,

The muse inside has left

I've missed you being there

I've missed your heartbeat

That's long gone away.

I've brood and I've sat in the

Darkness hoping you'll return.

Death was my only way

To be with you

As my passion was you.

I was lost without passion.

Self distraught and mentally

Unsatisfied nothing could

replace you.

There's just silence where

Your voice once was.

It’s all still now.

And my grief has washed away.

Copyright by C Davids

This is the poem I have written after being creatively blocked in this festive season, I thought I have lost my passion, my muse was nowhere to be found. Its then i went to read up on May Sarton and her life as a poet, this lady inspired me with her words, with her zest for life. She was 83 when she died, and even before her death and her last words, she published her last volume of poetry and even today her works been studied all around the world.

I nominate Summer Rain for next Rally

As poets

we unite

as writers

we weave

verses

for

our

souls.

Thank You Poets Rally for the award.