Tag Archives: poems

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The Turning Leaf

May your autumn find gently,  

as the trees too loosen their hold  

on all they once grew to believe was theirs.

May we also learn from the leaves šŸ 

how color brightens near the letting go,  

how the hidden fire of life  

is brightest  

just before it returns to the ground .

Beneath the autumns call,

the dark receives it all;

stem, vein, rain-softened gold,  

the red mushrooms hood of warning,  šŸ„

the feast-bearing,  

the secret labour of fungi  

making kin of decay and birth.

Nothing is wasted here.  

The forest remembers  

what the fearful heart forgets:  

that endings are not ultimate,

but spaces where the unseen  

begins again its patient work.

So trust the humus of your days,  

the crisis that became depth,  

the sorrow that deepened into wisdom,  

the love that becomes nourishment  

long after its first form is gone.

Now as your own season turns,  

You may you fall without fear  

into the great belonging,  

where life takes back the body it gave

and blesses it again into beginning.

For we too become colour for a while,  

a brief bright changing  

in the season of time,  

and then returned  

to the root, the rain, the worm,  

the hidden womb of life  

that is bearing 

another spring.

August 26

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A Pearl

by Liam

Within my soul, a precious pearl arose,

Emergent bright from deep within my core.

Oh, tempest! wake me from this restless dream,

Transform this jewel to thoughts forevermore.

Let lightning strike, the oceanā€™s secret crack,

Reveal my mysteries, deep and profound.

Lay I still, while all about went black,

Peace found me then upon this shore, unbound.

An empty cloud, I now lie in slumber deep,

Beside the oceanā€™s edge, I found my grace.

In stillness, under moonlit, starry wonder sleep,

In cherished solitude, dremt a soft embrace.

In a cloud of white, this pearl now lies.

I fly away with wind, become blue skies.

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A Summers Day

by Liam

Summer lifts the world

single handed into light.

The sea waiting 

since the dawn of creation, breathes softly against the shoreline of time.

Barefoot,

I step onto firm sand.

With each footprint,

the beach releases

a memory of its silence,

and like a place within me,

my soul remembers

all it once knew.

The waves donā€™t welcome me as a stranger,

but as one returning

to a home

I had forgotten was my self.

A cool breath

draws the burden

of my thoughts

Until like gulls they screech 

above the wind

rising,

circling,

then vanishing

beyond the edge of the world.

Here

Beneath the trembling waters light,

a shoal of fish

passes through the deep

the sea thinks

in shoals of silver flashes,

each movement

brief,

each one complete.

No moment like another.

Time forgets

The ancient habit

of measuring itself.

It loosens,

becoming light,

becoming water,

becoming a wide and open stillness

Perhaps happiness

is what we grasp,

but is that what changes us?

We imagine

we are only spending

a summerā€™s day

beside the sea.

And when evening,

with gentle ripples,

gathers the last gold slivers

from the waves,

something remains

wordless,

spacious,

and somehow

a little nearer

to the Infinite.

To the warmth of this eternal summers day. 

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Would you Believe 

by Liam

There are days

when the road closes in around you,

when the air thickens

with the weight of unfinished questions,

With the fragrance of misunderstood answers. 

Yet the wound of the moment

is rarely the thing that breaks the heart.

It is the quiet whisperer

that tells me:

This is how it will always be.

That voice builds a house

inside your mind,

nails the windows shut,

dims the lamps of your tomorrow.

Our magnificent soul was not made

for sealed rooms, though.

Somewhere beyond that taught and learned horizon

An unseen tide is already turning;

the dusty field beneath these feet

is quietly gathering green.

Not one winter has ever convinced the earth

that spring was impossible.

And no difficulty

no matter how stern its face,

has ever possessed the final word.

So should the night lean heavily upon you,

Remind and remember this hidden kindness of time:

ā€œWhat tries to destroy you

is not the path through the mountain,

but the belief

that the mountain will never move.ā€

Lift your gaze friend.

Every single stone

is learning slowly 

how to become sand on the beach.

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The Art of Listening

By Liam

When the world grows loud with its own undoing,

I beg, listen gently.

Listen, not to answer,

not to achieve, but to manifest.

As an echo returns to me

It carries more than the sound:

a trace of singing,

a memory of whence it came,

the warmth of you who were.l

Nothing we hear is unique.

It has moved reflecting from stone,

Across time,

through the hearts of people 

before arriving in mine.

So I pause.

I make room

I anticipate.

In that small significant moment,

something shifts

not the world all at once,

but the way I stand within it.

 And for a moment,

the future feels possible,

because I am not alone

in the listening.

But part of the process 

Of understanding who we are.

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Ask

Ask for, You shall Become !

by Liam

Ask the morning for bread,

life will place it warm in your hands,

A grateful gift of wheat and heat,

Is enough to feed you

through its conversation with the day.

Ask the night for your soul,

it will answer more quietly,

opening hidden places each unique,

each longingly learning its name.

This awakening becomes my form of prayer.

Ask, and life kneels forgivingly.

Ask life and the veil dissipates.

But let there be a deeper listening

than the hunger of the mouth

or the thirst of the heart,

a listening where the seeker

recognizes their own footsteps

echoing ahead of them into the future.

What you seek is not separate from yourself .

What you seek emerges  within you.

Understand this insight,

itā€™s not in words

but in a sudden sensitivity 

toward your own awareness,

as though the light youā€™ve followed

has been emergent within your being all along.

The bread becomes your blessing,

The soul becomes your shelter,

and the quest folds inward like a benediction,

Until we say,

I am the question.

I am also the answer.

I am the gate to be opened.

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Relearning the Shape of Me

by Liam 

When itā€™s the moon and stars I seek,

ā€”I ask the night

to hold me in its sight.

I wander

fragile,

worn,

weakā€”

relearning my name,

learning how to see again.

I place a rose into your hand.

Itā€™s not my thorns

that make you bleed.

Itā€™s the way my gaze

unmasks what you had planned.

Because truthā€”

truth cuts sharper

than anything I ever meant to hide.

I trace my faults

in crooked lines,

insecurities carved into my mind.

Every misjudgment

steals a little more sight,

untilā€”

bite by bite

I start losing

the one I was holding on inside.

I said I named my body.

I named my path.

I named you.

I said every choice was mine alone.

But freedom frays

where hearts betray,

and consequenceā€”

consequence redraws us

whether weā€™re ready or not.

And stillā€”

like dawn

melting midnight blue,

your love

revives my world.

Not by saving meā€”

but by showing me

the shape

Iā€™d forgotten

was already true.

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The Art of Words

by Liam

Let me learn this art of words, I say,

To shape the sounds that linger in the air,

To sculpt the dawn from dreams in which we play,

And weave the truth these willing hands can bear.

For language is a lantern in the night,

A bright spark shining when the paths depart;

It warms the cold, restores my fading sight,

And carries mystery from the deepest part.

Whichā€”tumble humble from my heartā€”they all,

Like scattered petals drifting in the breeze;

Yet still they rise to answer some faint call

And settle softly where another sees.

So grant my voice, that gentle souls may hear

The blossom of this art made bright and clear.

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The Embrace 

by Liam

In a quiet moment, my love met me there,

The wineā€™s red stain upon her lips,

Her ruby lockets curl with graceful care,

Now deep into my eyes her gaze now slips.

Her embrace transforms my very face to hers,

So we touch not with bodies, but with sighs,

In that kiss, the world around us blurs,

And all we share is in our eyes.

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The Song of Silence 

by Liam

In a hundred different ways, silence speaks in its own language

Only you can understand that tongue. 

What we hear is more beautiful than poetry

More eloquent than these words I write.

It is the hush where souls meet,

The quiet doorstep where we recognize one another,

As if the long road turned here

This meeting 

The end and beginning.

And so, I come home,

Not to a place, but to the shelter of your being,

Where silence blossoms into belonging,

And every new arrival is already complete.