expression

Cool Breeze Beneath The Plane Trees

~ distilledvoice ~ Leave a comment

London is sweet

In June’s ownership.

Roses billow

From front gardens

In to quite, shady streets.

There is a cool breeze

Beneath the plane trees,

And reality flexes

With a deep breath

And a mind expanding.

I read in the paper

That rare orchids had materialised

On a green roof

Among towering edifices –

An astronomical improbable chance!

Someone was quoted saying it was miraculous.

It made me wonder

What other miracles

Are yet in store,

Idling just off stage,

Unseen in the formless realm,

Unexpressed possibility

Awaiting only

A nod of our head

And an invitation to be.

Nib

~ distilledvoice ~ 1 Comment

The mind
In the nib
Of the pen
Is the light
Switched on,
The wire
In electrical flood,
The synapse of seeing
Open eyed
And transposing
Ideas
Directly
In ink

As if
Their true form
Were black marks
Made upon the page

And not images
Wrapped in similes
And metaphors
Translating the link.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

Siblings In Mind

~ distilledvoice ~ 2 Comments

For all of us
Who write
There is kinship
In the pen
And a pleasing
Camaraderie of spirit.

Yet such
Are the plethora
Of minds
That being this
Is like belonging
To a wide
And diverse continent.

The best
Is when understanding
Traverses time
And space,
And a bond
Of likeness
Joins

In selfness
Expressed:
Like looking in to the mirror
And seeing the real
Familiar
Of a brother
Or a sister,
Newly found.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

Importance Of Swallows

~ distilledvoice ~ Leave a comment

What is more important

Than summer swallows,

Blue on the wing

Hot on the lifting air

Fulfilled by rising insects

Swarming on scents

And invisible particulates:

The blooms of the sky

The language written hieroglyph

And aerodynamic,

And perfectly attuned

To being –              – almost weightless?

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.

Artists Are One

~ distilledvoice ~ 2 Comments

So many yearning
For the artists life,
Each and every one of us
Posting our dreams
To the greater dream
In the outer dream of the internet.

But I am roused.
I am roused for I am one in many
As you are one in many.
We speak the same language
And slip stream on the same energy,
Surf the lip of love
That curls endlessly on.

We will not drown in clamour.
There are not too many
For we are the many in the mind
And the mind is one.

And the one
Is wellpool
Of richness, integrity
And Infinity anew:

Anew
As each one of us
Lives closer
To the who

We really are.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.