Poems by N. M. Sirett

Poem One:

GENTLE WORDS

You are kind

I am kinder

You are a flower

I am a bee

To grow, you need me.

You are colours

I am the light

You are a river

I am the sea

We will merge,

Eventually.

You are the sky

I am the sun

You are the stars

I am the universe

Shine bright while you blaze

For all of your days –

And collapse when you’re done,

And remember we’re ONE.

I am beyond

All you can see

I am there

When you think you are small

Everything’s LOVE

And my LOVE has no walls.

Allow me to introduce myself:

I am the toll of the bell in your inner ear.

I am the berry on the branch,

The reptile in the sea and the jewel in the mountain.

I am dusk and I am dawn.

I live and breathe in the very air, the ozone, and the trees.

I am in the stars, I am in the cosmos,

And I am in you.

I am and I am you.

And him, and her, and that, and this…

For I am in everything, and I am with all of you all the time.

I am the omnipresent; the one who comes to set you free.

I am the blossom that floats on unseen channels and drifts slowly into the hearts and minds of every being.

I am a thought, a spark of an idea, a flowing spring that bubbles and stirs near the volcano’s edge.

I am the crisp light air on the mountain range.

I am the bird that sings in the trees and ripens the dawn.

I am everywhere.

I am never alone for you are always with me.

We are always one no matter how many times you try to run and hide.

I will find you.

For there is no place for you to go where I can’t see you, feel you, think you or be you.

You are mine and I am always yours.

I am the perfect dream that lasts forever – embedded in your heart.

Your friend, your guide, your perfect love, your deepest kindest aspirations, your humanity…

I am your peace, and I will never let you go.

I will stare into your eyes, into the depths of your soul, and KNOW YOU.

For I will never let you down; I will never destroy you nor will I watch you come undone and walk away.

I will never desert you.

I will never force you or interfere.

But just call upon me and I will comfort you and keep you warm and safe in an imperfect – in-perfect – world.

Its design – pure.

I am your easel in which you paint your masterpiece – and master peace in your life.

I am your ultimate and only

Friend.

You are

I AM.

2 Comments

Sarah Griffin February 28, 2022 Just beautiful Reply · Edit
Harry March 9, 2022 Love this ! Reply · Edit

Poem Three:

Helena of Athens

by N. M. Sirett

Growing up in Hermia’s shadow,

Thin-skinned

Susceptible

To this farce unfolding before my eyes.

The forest’s cover shelters me,

And I remain invisible

To watch

What I do not want to see.

This power in nature

Which, if only ever stems

From the juice of a flower,

Is not worth tasting.

Your erratic glances

Moving at angles,

Swerving away along another path. Mocking my tender sentiments

And subjugating my assurances.

Thus, rendering me

Obsolete. And so,

To prevent such a pounding,

I remain in the shadows of the forest of Athens.

Carefully eluding

The juice that drips

From Love in Idleness –

A seemingly deadly flower

And,

As a result, the misjudged aim of Cupid’s bow.

Poem Four:

The Land of the Sleeping Lions

N. M. Sirett

You can come to the land of the sleeping lions,

Where the great beasts never stir,

You can stay and do whatever you please

And at no time ruffle their fur.

You can live in the land of the sleeping lions,

The nook that sundry seek,

And bang your uproarious, deafening drum,

Dream pipes are buried so deep.

Oh, this fair land of sleeping lions

Is so fertile, you’ll do well,

To know that your bounties will prosper,

When you sip from its purest well.

Don’t dismiss all the folktales of glory,

From times that have since gone.

And their champion ways,

From the good ol’ days, filled with laughter, mirth, and song.

There’s no need for sweet lullabies

To keep the big cats in a snooze,

The earth could shake, and they still would not wake,

So, what do you stand to lose?

Dwell on in the land of the lions,

They will ignore you so.

And you’ll feel at ease in its heavenly breeze,

Fickle tides of rain, sun, and snow.

But if you bring dark ages to linger,

And sew them through the years,

Be cautioned – do be ginger

With a sleeping lion’s tears.

You’d do well to remember,

Upon your footsteps tred

Carefully as a whispering tree,

In the land of the lions so dead.

You can visit the land of the sleeping lions,

Their warm heartbeats slow-soft,

Their ears are silent muffs

And their minds have flown aloft.

You can put down camp or build a house,

Here in the land of the lion,

And feel so warm in the scarlet dawn,

With its chivalrous shield of iron.

A warm welcome to all! Pray, do have a ball!

There’s no vetting, no passport, no sifting…

And the lions don’t know what fruit you will grow,

They are, all of them, too busy drifting…

Yet, one word of warning to all:

Do adhere,

Lend an ear

Dear friends…

May your conducts keep you good

And well in your hearts

If not, make amends.

For the day will come –

Away now! Run! –

When the bleeding cup,

Will wake the lions up.

Poem Five:

The White Rose

N. M. Sirett

Be Still

And you will see,

A single white rose.

Be Still

And you will find,

It has purity.

It knows no good,

It knows no bad,

It only knows its Maker.

Unaffected by pestilence,

And as white as light,

Waxen in its

Delicate surroundings

It sits

On an arrow-like bush…

Unapproachable,

Yet beautiful,

Engaging the light.

And yet there shall always be the eyes

Seeing only the thorns:

The secateurs

Smiling sweetly

As they

Snip, snip, snip.

Yet God’s sagacious designs maintain its rebirth.

Thus, enabling it to grow once more,

With even more vigour than before…

A most defiant bloom!

Poem Six:

Sabbatum Gold

N. M. Sirett

Thrust out from the pattering roadside,

Chest up,

Nose north,

Sleeping…

Knocked from consciousness

That bright, autumnal morning,

With stone eyes fixed.

Sky bound.

With an outstretched,

Auburn, regal and

Spread-eagled cloak;

A cosy blanket to lie upon,

She did not stir. There on the road

She would wither on.

Direct honey beams

Shone as rich as solid gold bars,

And as level as spirits,

Pouring in through a haze

Of panelled tree lines:

A natural stave outlining a platinum track.

One zillion spotlights spilled

Through tawny branches

And spangled twigs.

An elaborate, luminous set,

That freely provided splendour

To the place where,

The little creature slept.

A velvet vixen: ginger-brown, with a soft, white breast.

Sadly her ruby-smudged undercoat

Had already surrendered.

No more, would the traveller catch

A glimpse of her bushy tail

Swiftly disappearing between two

Hedgerows. Or that fence…

Ginger’s fur apparel was

Fanned out like bat wings.

Jet black was the nose aimed sharply at heaven,

Foraging for immortality; some esoteric flora,

Beyond the road I travelled along.

Her eerie night call silenced,

Her animation stilled,

She rested there, as bright as the dawn,

Spun gold and beautiful as the new day.

Oh how could she leave behind such prettiness?

In the sun’s light she sparkled

With dewdrops, glistening perfectly.

The morning mists hung heavy on the grass,

Freshly frosted and cool…

Thin trunks gently swayed

Their burnt ochre branches

Lazily, and waved me upon my way.

They moved deliberately,

Outside of time. Their natural navigation,

Redirected my route,

Like tree police at the scene of an accident and

Whispering… “Move along now madam, there’s nothing to see here”.

I wondered, was there magic afoot?

So the journey continued,

The scene altered, and new things shifted into play.

I could see him, we were

Eye to eye for an elongated second,

A beady brown look,

Prickles aloft;

Good morning to the hedgehog.

He greeted me in his woodish manner,

Inwardly and without sound he spoke.

Nature’s great mystery,

With its surrounding magic,

Introduced us.

And so we connected…

And then I was gone.

I drove on and into the increasing light of the ascending star,

Rising above me and lighting my path.

Leaves bustled and bounced across my bonnet.

Dancing maroons, crimsons, berry reds, limes and lemons;

A crispy rainbow to keep company with,

And I pondered…

Was it the light that struck my windscreen so?

Was it the wind that whistled softly at my car door?

Was it the contented fox or the hedgehog crossing?

What, may I ask, purged me so?

That morning was gold,

And it’s meaning too.

Nature had spoken

And the voice,

Was loud.

Poem Seven:

Solstice Eve

By N. M. Sirett