While taking your leave.....

Defeated

Defeated
Reading what I have just written,
I  stop as if almost on the brink,
On seeing  a kind of artificial mist
Spread over my blank paper.

Why did I stop? I wonder.
Perhaps this was not
What I wanted to say,
And adorned my thoughts
In garish colours, making them
Look like their clumsy cartoons. ....

Same thing happens
When I go to my easel.
But on the blank canvas before me
Chaos is all that what I see,
My brush freezes—I can not paint .....

Oh, what has happened to me?
I feel as if trapped in a tunnel,
Full of darkness and  deafening silence:
Whose door is shut so tightly
That  nothing will escape, nothing will enter.
There seems to be an endless blankness
All around me and spreading on.
Like a drowning person fighting  for a breath,
With great effort I pull myself back,
And with a sigh of resignation,
Close my notebook and turn the empty canvas
Inward against the wall.

© Portia Burton

TATTOO

Oh, Mother, mother....

My Mother- My Angel

My Mother-My Angel

I believe in angels, for me it is my mother,
There's no one like her,there'll never be another.
When I am distressed this angel  holds my hand,
And wiping away my fears  helps me understand,
That  in our mistakes  there are  lessons to be learned,
With each precious new day another page is turned,
Which is full of memories, moments of joy and tears,
Triumphs and defeats, through every passing year.
Her  love is unconditional, she's always by my side,
When no one else would listen, in her I can confide.
With gentle words of wisdom she leads me on my way,
Down the paths of righteousness if ever I would stray.
She is the most priceless of all worldly treasures,
O my Lord , please keep  her for me  here forever.
© Portia Burton

Your Eyes...

Each One Has Been Given His Own way

Each One Has Been Given His Own Way

It's morning and people are walking by,
They smile at me ,I too smile back ,
And wonder where they all are going,
what's their purpose and mooring?

A flock of herons flies overhead
They are so disciplined in their  flight,
They fly in the "V" pattern so precise
Not a bird out of line or lagging behind.

A boy rides swiftly by on a bicycle,
Just laughing and having a grand time,
And with not a care in the world,
He just hums and nods at the elders.

Then There's  a robin feeding her young ,
They hungrily take what she is giving them,
Away  she flies  and comes back with a twig,
Perhaps to strengthen her tiny nest.

As I walk leisurely  watching the world go by
I often wonder what is going on
In the great cosmos and here on earth,
Do I really know what its all about?

I smile to myself and shrug my shoulders,
Why, even the lilies bloom through the boulders!
Let it be me or a robin or a heron,
Each one has been given a way  to go on.

© Portia Burton
November 6, 2014
Cambridge

Friend Or Sister?

Friend or Sister?...
There she was, a girl  with long, blonde hair,
Standing in a corner like a frightened hare,
Unique in her way and not part of the crowd,
But looked  as if  she would just cry out loud .

She came Forward  and gingerly sat by me,
Mumbling gently,'O, perhaps this seat is free,
And I was looking for someone just like you,
Though we're strangers, it's true.'

She didn’t look up but I felt her heart leap,
Could she be a friend that I might keep?
Why has she reposed in me so much trust,
Should I offer my hand? Oh, I must!

I eagerly  took her tiny hand in my own,
And whispered,'O, please don't feel alone,
Now we are friends, so don't be sad,
Would you like to meet my mum and dad?'

And since that day that sweet girl named Emily
Has become a part of my family;
Are we friends or sisters? I don't know,
But true love doesn't need any outward show.


©Portia Burton

Let Me Sleep a Little More..