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finding peacefulness

Some days I get home and my head is spinning with people I’ve met, notes I need to write up, extra unexpected tasks suddenly announced – things to do – things to do – and never enough time. 

Today was one of those days – and I could feel anger rising in response to feeling overwhelmed – that’s a good thing for me – I used to just get lost in the overwhelming. 

But anger is not something I like to feel – so – I took my camera and walked outside into my overgrown garden – trusting there will always be something there to help me calm and quietly breathe. 

This beauty looked up at me – pale and peaceful in the twilight. 

Is there really anything to worry about – nothing that won’t wait til tomorrow – for now – I will lose myself in amongst the petals and dream. 


©clairegriffin2017

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April

The first day of the month spent at a writer’s workshop. So powerful hearing the feedback from others, their interpretations, their challenges, their questions. Much that confirmed my ideas, some that surprised. 

Tasked now with the job of a major re-arrangement of text – exciting to look forward to a completed work. I can feel it in my mind, almost see it – but the work of selecting and placing text will be harder when I work on it with pen and paper, even with scissors and glue. Just realised – this work does fit with this month’s poem. 

©clairegriffin2017

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the work of bees


The work of bees – these tiny creatures embody the valuable traits of collaboration, perseverance, dedication – they have no words for these things – they simply go out every day to forage and then return home with the raw materials to ensure the future of the next generation. Honey – the sweet product of their work. 

I wonder how much sweetness results from the work I do …

©clairegriffin2017

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eye to eye

When she was young, she was abandoned,
she was pregnant, she was making do,
wary and opportunistic.

She was found, she was ill, her babies died,
and I had just seen the movie based on the life of Frida Kahlo,
when I saw this small, thin, lost soul in a cage,
for sale, marked down, half price.
Frida she was then, in an instant.

She came home with me.
She was half-wild, wouldn’t be held,
ate fast and then straight outside.
We found she’d made the compost bin her bed.

But she brought us gifts in those early times,
daily mice, some dead, some alive,
and three arranged in the driveway
like an installation artwork.

There was the rat, that looked like someone’s pet.
There was the tui, injured, flapping,
that I drowned in a bucket, while I cried
and she stretched out in the sun

There was the day I realised she was using mirrors
as a way of watching and staying safe.
There was the day she walked into the room and stopped,
and looked, eye to eye, heart to heart.
It proved to me, that patience is worth it, that patience heals.
Two years of waiting evaporated in her eyes.

Today she sleeps.
She sleeps and when she’s not sleeping, she wants to eat.
Having an appetite is a good thing.

And she has developed the habit of scratching the sofa, or trying to.
It’s a dance now, that we both share.
She stretches out a paw and looks my way.
I say no, and her leg lowers. She holds eye contact.
After all these years, she uses her eyes to get what she wants.

I move to the kitchen and squeeze cat food from the packet.
She eats, she climbs on me, and sleeps.

She knows who I am now.
She snores a little
and every breath
is the sound of trust.

Frida

©clairegriffin2017

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blue

thoughts on the colour blue

I think of water
salt and fresh
rain and wave
spring and snow
I think of tears

the sea is blue
the sky is blue
lakes and rivers and
your eyes are blue

what else?

on my windowsill
my tea caddy, my teapot, a vase
and nestled deep in memory
your willow pattern plates
your cornishware jars
and my eyes and Billy’s eyes
and your eyes
all blue
all together
in a small dark wooden house

blue is the colour of love
and I lose myself
in its deep waters

now, in my garden
there grows borage and thyme
lavender, sage and rosemary
ajuga, hydrangea, lobelia
and delphinium
for years now
I have been cultivating
food for the belly and the eye
for the heart and the soul

it all comes back
to our eyes
the windows to our souls
and all the earth’s water
the eyes of this land
and our blue planet
seen from space
as if the universe was watching
holding one eye closed

©clairegriffin2017

 

 

 

 

 

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March

Version 2

indulge in the sunlight, accept nature’s gifts
grateful for the positive glorious energy
the earth shares with us

We’ve officially had the worst summer in years – with many places experiencing lower than usual temperatures, rain, and lots of wind. It improved a little during February and has certainly been better the last couple of weeks, so I’m looking forward to more sunshine. Today is the start of Autumn, and we often have some glorious days during this time of year.

Interesting that I chose this photo and wrote this verse back in December, without really thinking about the seasons. But this is exactly what I need now.

©clairegriffin2017

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red and green

on my doorstep
a brown cardboard box
tied with string

standing in my kitchen
I cut the string
and open the box slowly
lifting away the paper inside

and all is red and green
and smooth and curved and fresh and ripe
skin and leaves
one long green crunch of cucumber
and balls of plump red juiciness

I lift one round red globe
and the sunlight bounces off the surface
five green fingers reach out from the stem
gestures of greeting in the quiet room
I hold it close and there’s the distinctive tang of tomato
the scent of a summer garden

and so much more
I see the hands that lifted each rosy globe
felt the weight and pressed thoughtfully on the skin
the hands that snapped the ripe fruit from the vine
the hands that nestled each one into this box
arranging and rearranging for the perfect fit
I see the hands tying the string
and checking all is secure
hands that reached for me
and held me as gently
as these tender fruits

all acceptance
and generosity
the hands of a gardener
growing love

©clairegriffin2017

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green

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your footsteps play
on the skin of the land
as on a drum
I feel the ground vibrate

you are coming

you will lie beneath me
and I will drop
sun-ripened fruits
into your mouth

you will stand still in my arms
as the wind blows around us
I move so slowly
this is how we dance

you will hear me singing to you
while you sleep
I speak so quietly
you can only hear me in your dreams

I am strong and grounded
the one you seek
my roots run deep
my tribe is many

you are a bright brief burst of life
and I am older than your generations
you are constantly astounded
my hair is green
and yet you love me

©clairegriffin2017