Written In Stone

Written In Stone

I do not write

my Words in stone

though they may be

by someone else,

not me.

Once my Words

were painted, chiseled,

carved, inscribed

in clay and stone

to speak to the Ages

for ancient versions

of me.

Once my Words

were penned and inked,

inked and metal-printed

onto treed pages

then scattered by winds

and breezes

like dead leaves

for another version

of me.

Now I search within

for Words Heart-Mined,

exploring Heart and Mind

that I might find

Words of worth

to share in Poetry

but would not wish them

written in stone

that they be free

to change and grow

with me.

December 19, 2022

Shelley Audrey Wilson

Victoria BC

Books

Another Day has passed.

I place it in the empty space

on the Bookcase of my Past

where Days like many Books

are now shelved in place

remembered or forgotten,

judged as ‘good’ or ‘bad’,

resting there at last.

Here I am in the Now,

this precious, priceless Moment,

a still yet moving flow,

as I create and co-create

another Book before I go.

April 20, 2022

Shelley Wilson

You Can Tell

Flowers For Children:

You Can Tell

What makes a Happy Child

or Person in Old Age?

Is it a Heart of Hate?

Is it a Mind of Rage?

Is it a Heart at Peace?

Is it a Mind at Ease?

What makes a Happy Child

or Person in Old Age?

What makes you feel Bad?

What makes you feel Glad?

What makes you feel Ill?

What makes you feel Well?

It’s so easy to tell. You can tell.

Your Heart and Mind will tell.

How does Shouting make you feel?

How does Quiet make you feel?

When you drink Clean or Dirty Water,

how does your Body feel?

When you breathe Clean or Dirty Air,

how does your Body feel?

When Others want to Hurt you,

how does your Body feel?

Your Heart and Mind will tell

when Others mean Ill or Well.

All Animals can tell

and you can tell, you can tell.

February 22, 2022

Shelley Wilson

Woven Portraits

When I Think Of… my friend Wanda

Small Book details my daughter Alissa made to this ‘portrait’. Wanda is a librarian.

Reading My Books

Reading My Books

As I read to the end of this book,

though it takes decades or days,

I’ve become ever more aware

that it unfolds in different ways

than times I’ve read it before.

Then I smile when I look upon

all those books upon my shelves.

They hold such different stories,

my other selves and their histories.

I can read tales of drudgeries and glories,

ecstasies and miseries, tragedies and follies.

There’s so many tales both old and new-

quiet, peaceful lives, lives of bold adventures,

tales of shared or unrequited love,

and so much more in peace and war

that I have often read before.

Beyond my sight sit books of wonder

I sometimes sense and feel-

new visions of life to read and write,

new lives to read, reread, cowrite,

new dreams and desires to make real

in changeable circumstances, conditions,

contextual fields, dualities, realities,

all Spirit’s creative inventions.

I read my books and smile…

July 16, 2021

Shelley Wilson