Her Light Burns Brightly

*Image by Dimitris Vetsikas from Pixabay*

Strong, resilient, like no other
Fighter, defender, lover, mother,
Teacher, leader, inspiration,
Backbone of a generation.
Of a kind, yet individual,
Shrugging off the chains residual
That remain from eons past,
Smashing ceilings made of glass.
She honours mothers, sisters, aunts,
Who fought to give her every chance
To vote, to lead, to work, to win,
To overcome history’s sins.
Her light burns brightly: in her wake
Are those she has inspired to take
The future into their own hands,
On their own terms, not those of man.

Her Light Shines Brightly
#WomensHistoryMonth #womenshistory
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‘Her Light Shines Brightly’ is one of the poems about women and their experiences collected in Stained Glass by Joanne Van Leerdam

March 28, 2021 0

Circus Life.

It’s a difficult day at work as
She realises her childhood dream
Of becoming a star a the circus
Was not as silly as it seemed.

The contortionist folds herself neatly
Into a sturdy coloured box
And pulls the lid closed tightly
So the clowns can close the locks
That confine her securely within,
Which ends the first act, allowing
The escapologist’s act to begin.
Daring, nimble, death-defying!
She emerges from the locks and chains
Escaping the darkness that smothers,
Miraculously free of those constraints
Inflicted on her by others.
But the show is not over yet!
She leaps onto the high trapeze
Of life without a safety net
Where she swings and sails with ease,
Until the tightrope twists and tangles
While she’s still up in the air –
She is caught and left to dangle
While the audience gawps and stares.
Upside down, she swings herself low
Then dives into a tiny pool!
It’s all part of the Big Top freak show
Full of wonders, misfits and fools.
She stands smiling at the Ringmaster
Who deftly throws those deadly knives
Which fly so hard and fast at her
That one false move could end her life.
An almighty roar distracts her –
There’s a lion on the prowl!
Hungry for blood, it attacks her
Then continues to snarl and growl.
Taking a whip and a sturdy chair,
With which to tame the big cat’s rage,
She holds its gaze with a steely glare
And forces it back into its cage.
The strong woman flexes her muscles
Benchpressing the weight of the world,
Carrying it all as she hustles:
A veritable Supergirl.
She juggles all the spheres of her life
Despite her growing sense of doom,
All the while balancing astride
The elephant in the room.

She keeps looking for the exit sign
And dreams of running away
From being the star attraction
At the circus, day after day.

‘Circus Life’ is one of the poems in the collection titled ‘The Passing of the Night’ by Joanne Van Leerdam

March 28, 2021 0

Burn.

If you don’t like
The way I burn-
My stubborn, steady flame-
Neither light the match,
Nor fan the embers
Of a fire you cannot tame.

Burn.
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March 14, 2021 0

Thank You… I Think

How ironic
That you don’t like it
When I stand up for myself:
You’re the one
Whose weapon words
Gave me real-time training
In the art of self defence.
Had I not learned
To deflect your contempt
And resist your hateful words,
I would not be here today.

You prompted my resistance,
Inspired my defiance,
And forced my indifference
To anything else you have to say.

So thank you, I think,
For helping me become someone others like
Infinitely more than you do.

Thank You… I Think
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February 17, 2021 1

New Year’s Eve, 2020

It’s December 31, 2020:
Christmas is back in its box,
And I’m ready to cheer
For the end of this year
Full of tragedy, heartbreak and shocks.

I’m not sure next year will be better
After all, it’s only tomorrow,
And if people don’t care
For how other folk fare,
We could be in for more sorrow.

Still, as this horrid year closes,
I’m hoping for a reprieve:
A little more joy,
A lot more hope—
That’s my prayer this New Years Eve.

New Year’s Eve, 2020
#NewYearsEve #newyearseve2020 #PoetsTwitter
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December 31, 2020 1

Gone.

Photo credit: Sean Hewer. All rights reserved.

You were here yesterday
And this morning.
How can you be just
Gone?
In the time it takes
To blink, or breathe
Or turn to look,
You left.
Now, there is endless time
To weep, to rage,
To question, and yet
Go on.
I don’t know how to be
Here without you.
How can you be just
Gone?

Dedicated to the brother of my brother, who was much loved and is deeply missed.

August 15, 2020 4

Farewell, My Friend.

For you, no more waiting for heaven,
And no more praying for peace:
Your fight is over, your work is done,
You have found your eternal release.

I wasn’t ready for you to leave—
But I never would have been,
So I remain here, without you,
In this miserable in-between.

My heart is broken, my words are gone,
I have cried a million tears,
And the hurt cascades inside me
Each time I realise you’re not here.

We made a lifetime of memories,
Full of family, friendship and song,
And I know it was just a rehearsal
For where you are now, all along.

But this feels nothing like heaven:
I so miss your warmth and your smile,
The music you brought to every day,
The way you made each day worthwhile.

I will always love you and miss you,
And life will never be the same,
I will cherish your memory forever
And always smile when I speak your name.

July 8, 2020 3

Mourning Song

*Photo artwork by Joanne Van Leerdam. June 24, 2020.*

Tears fall,
Can’t stop them,
Can’t hide them.
You’re gone,
Can’t bring you
Back again.
Why am I always the one who is feeling
The pain of the wrenching and tearing of leaving?
Why must this pain be so raw deep inside of me?
My heart
Misses you
Desperately.
Please say
That you won’t
Forget me.
I can’t imagine my life without you in it,
Bereft of the light and the joy of your loveliness,
Every room filled with the echoes of memories.
Never
To be the
Same again.
Tears fall,
Into the
Loneliness.
You’re
Gone.

Mourning Song.
#poetry #grief #Emotions #poetrylovers #personal #ReadAWrite
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This poem is included in my collection titled ‘Leaf’.

June 30, 2020 1

Old Man.

Vigour has yielded to frailty,
Pain tarnishes every day,
He longs to be free of his misery –
Oh! If one could wish suffering away!

He despises his aged condition:
When he stands, his body is bent;
He cannot escape his suspicion
That the best of his days have been spent.

His voice has grown soft and he mumbles,
It’s harder to focus his mind,
He is more prone now to grumble –
His good humour has slowly declined.

His children observe the difference –
They lament the toll of the years;
What he prays for as deliverance
Will, for them, mean sorrow and tears.

For now, he sits in his armchair,
Dozing off whenever he can:
Precious little brings any pleasure
For the tired and broken old man.

Then, in an instant, he leaves them –
No more misery, no tears, no night:
He casts off his pain, finds his wings,
Becomes an angel and takes flight.

Old Man: A Poetic Tribute To My Dad.
#Memorials #Fathers #Poetuit #poetrylovers #blogpost
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June 22, 2020 5

Superficial

*I wrote this poem two years ago. It’s still far too relevant*,

Too bright, too individual, too funky,
Too wild, too unafraid, too chunky,
Too short, too loud, too bold, too dyed—
When will you ever look inside?
It’s so easy to label something as sin
Ignoring the gems concealed within—
Love, passion, talent, loyalty, art.
Yet you say God looks at each person’s heart
For faith, service, and integrity:
Why can’t you look that way at me?

PS:
I saw you looking at my ears
And all my pretty piercings there;
Your distaste was almost palpable
And I still don’t eally care

February 22, 2020 1