Vestigial Impression

Hi Everyone,

This blog is a poem. This year hasn’t been much of year of writing for me. I’ve been emptied out as it were. So when a poem lands in my lap complete save for me to blog it, I’m not going to question it. 🙂

Wishing you all a full and creatively productive week ahead

Tikarma. xxxx

Vestigial impression (digital art work) © 2013 Tikarma Vodicka.

Vestigial Impression

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If you don’t say

How can I know?

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If you stand at the gate waiting

You’ll be a long time.

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Two Dobermans on the corner

Bark their aggression

Their fear,

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The other side

You.

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If I smile at you

You’ll know what there is to know.

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If I look you in the eye,

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Run

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If I take your hand It means

You’re welcome to sit

Stay a while.

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If I am silent

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Listen.

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The silence speaks.

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© 2013 Tikarma Vodicka.

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Above Regrets

Hi Everyone,

This week is a poem again. A little love poem, a flight of romantic fancy. 🙂 I hope some of you enjoy it. 🙂

Wishing you all a week ahead that will be full of many a warming moment. 🙂

Tikarma. xxxx

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Above Regrets

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Above Regrets

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The last of the deep blue

Merged to black

As you proclaimed in stuttering whisper over my back

That I would not have regrets

Should I decide to be with you.

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Wavelets lapped like eager ears

Against the narrow shoreline

For gossip.

For the reply.

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We stood illuminated unnaturally in a rising tide of night.

Beams of street lamps cascading across your face.

A beacon in my storm?

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I study your face and

You are beautiful tousled in a brine air.

Your expression a little boy floating lost

In the wake of your brave action of confidence.

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I take your hand to cross the street

We sit with strangers in a mist

Of salted Jazz and G and T’s.

Warm, comfortable

Conversation a pleasant babble.

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Night lingers but never stays quiet long enough

And I think I could live with this

Beached, on your island home.

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My silence I finally give up.

Walking to your cars passenger door

You jump to be the gentleman.

With a smile bobbing in the twinkle of your eyes.

We coalesce into a wave of crashing lips

That answers your call with a desire to sail a voyage

Above regrets to the safe sands of your shore.

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© 2013 Tikarma Vodicka.

Wave Of Promise

Hi Everyone,

This weeks blog is a poem. It’s a message, so I hope it reaches who it’s meant to…the seas of the internet are a large space these days. 🙂

Wishing you all a warm and pleasant week ahead.

Tikarma. Xxx

 

 

Wave of Promise

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Wave Of Promise

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Trapped

Within cross currents within a whirlpool

We are.

Twirling, in a dance of survival beyond our control.

In the fray and grapple to wrench oneself free I saw you.

In me you saw a part of you

In you I saw a part of me.

There is friendship here, we are both survivors

 And I know if I extended just the right kind of support

I knew you would take it and pull yourself free.

So I reached out to you

but I was taken under by these wretched seas

That carried me half a world away to land on foreign shores.

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It takes time to make the journey back

To find the wood and binding

To make the boat

 Carve a paddle

Row.

Row over high seas and dead waters back to where you twirl.

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To find

My paddle is too short,

My boat too unsteady.

Then my paddle is too thick for you to grasp

 And my boat breaks in an onslaught of waves

And again…my paddle too weak, it snaps and my boat…a devastaing leak!

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It’s a vicious cycle

Constantly being swept under

I can only hope you understand.

I am friend and what it means, despite these constant drownings

And one of these days I promise.

I promise  I will find the right boat

The right kind of paddle

To help pull you free

So we can sit together with some sense of safety

Over seas and dead waters

And arrive safely to walk a more harmonious journey

On familiar shores.

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© 2013 Tikarma Vodicka.

 

A Summer Night

Hi everyone,

This weeks blog is just a poem, another random musing. I hope some of you enjoy it. 🙂

Wishing you all a blessed week ahead.

Tikarma. xxxx

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A Summer Night

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A Summer Night

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Waiting for sunset to lurch towards dusk

The burden of humidity is easier to bear in the dark.

Peace

1:00am mosquitoes laid to rest

Can’t sleep

The night crawling with the 2:00am fly on the wall

Air is heavy

From summers long arm of heat.

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Sprawling from sheets

Into shorts

Into shoes

Into the car.

Turning my face to the wind

Like the lucky dog who got to ride shot-gun.

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Cruising through the ghostly trees

Their figures dancing in the headlights twirling.

Curling their branches to embrace me

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Breaking free.

To the high winding roads,

 Leaving the plains of suburbia far below.

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Taking my leave at the look out

 Standing tall on its boundary walls.

Merging with the stars and their velvet canopy.

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Watching the city lights glittering.

Music drifts from a party,

Where a babble reverberates youth and beer.

 None of this matters

As I take in deep breaths of cool early morning air.

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Watching

Traffic lights and their sequences of changes

Listening

To the sound of engines revving and as they motor by

Waiting

 For something to move me

For the world to finish its revolution.

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© 2013 Tikarma Vodicka

Train Station Crawling

Hi Everyone,

This weeks blog is just a poem. A random musing. As always an optional impression comes afterward. I hope some of you enjoy it.

Wishing you all a lovely and blessed week ahead.

Tikarma. xxxx

Station Crawling

Train Station Crawling

A station

No particular destination.

She stands

Hands dipping deep into pockets

Loose change for a struggling party band.

Bound for nowhere

Escaping everywhere

“Me and I need a break” She said.

Travel magazines draped across her lap

Factories blur by her carriage window.

Five miles of silver roof tops, brick brown walls,

Then the open countryside as far as one can see.

Time to just be alone,

Broken up by passing conversations.

It was good idea she thought, playing truant with obligation.

Pretending there’s no consequences for a day spent

Train station crawling.

Hello to a piece of inner harmony.

Goodbye mediocrity.

She waved as the trained pulled away.

Smiling; Cold stone platforms, warm station cafes.

© 2013 Tikarma Vodicka

Poetical Impressions, Train Station Crawling, Monday 18th February 2013

This week saw me laid up with the flu. As a consequence all my plans for painting and drawing went flying out the window. I’m not able to concentrate and unless I have a clear head I can’t bring myself to paint.

I haven’t written any poetry since my last poem on depression Part One: Feeling. My muses have gone to ground and I’m not much of poet without them. I don’t know what will happen in the future with poetry. I fear I may have written all there is I have to write. :-/

In the optimistic hope that I can get their attention and get the writing bug back I devised my own word challenge.

Every now and again it’s nice to play around with what you can create. Poetry should be fun too. 🙂

With that in my mind the words I gave myself were

station

stands

pockets

band

nowhere

me

factories

brick

see

passing

day

playing

harmony

The words as you may be able to tell are completely random. They probably more than anything else show my complete inability to make coherent associations. 🙂

So station crawling is the product of this experiment. 🙂 I chose station crawling on the association of the pub crawl. I’ve never done one but from what I’ve heard, you apparently move from one pub to the next until you can drink or travel no more.

I have done a train crawl.

You hop on train, any train, get off at a station where it pleases you and have a look around for however long it pleases you. Then you take the next train to where ever it may be heading until you come to a dead-end, otherwise known as terminus and default to the next train (or bus) that will take you home 🙂  or you find yourself back where you started.

It’s not something I’ve done in long time. It was a fun random way to spend a day and I enjoyed doing it a couple of times a year. I don’t know why this memory came to mind with the word station…Maybe it’s my muses telling me to get out and travel around Adelaide a bit. Hmmmm. 😀

Well until next week. Thanks for reading.

Tikarma. xxxx

Part 2.1: Perception

Hi Everyone,

My apologies this blog is a little late. You can’t rush glue drying. 🙂 This weeks blog is part two of my personal exploration with my depression. The impression below the painting is as always optional. I hope if you choose to stay you’ll gain something from this blog.

Wishing you all a blessed week ahead Tikarma. xxxx

 

Eternal Promise

 ‘Eternal Promise’

(please click image for a larger view)

Part 2.1 Perception

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 In a world of beauty

Where the sun shines for her alone.

Butterflies dart about in greeting

Flowers bloom just to please her.

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 Full of smiles

Optimism personified

Nothing is impossible

Dreams come to life

To embrace her.

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Feeling the flow of life

Feeling wonder at every turn

Feeling the joy and energy

Of promises eternal…

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Poem Part 2.1 Percetion © 2013 Tikarma Vodicka

Painting ‘Eternal Promise’ © 2013 Tikarma Vodicka. All rights reserved.

 

Poetical Impressions: Part 2.1: Perception. Monday/Tuesday 14/15th January 2013

Last week I began a journey with my depression. That was Feelings. The space of raw despair in depression. This week and for the next few weeks it will be perception.

In thinking over and writing and re-writing my blog in my head, I reached a point of blah! The subject of perceptions is an important one but it is also a philosophical minefield I wasn’t winning. I couldn’t adequately express myself. I kept de-railing on tangents which were important to the whole but which ultimately led to writing a book.

I don’t want to write a book. I don’t want to dictate or appear to be dictating to others what is and isn’t when it comes to depression. I’m no expert and I only know what my manic-depression is for me.

Images came to visit. Describing the states of changing perception. I decided, at the last-minute of course (so far as painting is concerned) to do that instead.

Images and what they mean for me in the story I’m trying to tell.

In thinking on my journey and perception I couldn’t dismiss the state of mania. It also is a good place to start.

My journey actually started 5 1/2 years ago with the still-birth of my son. I don’t think I need to go into what that does to a person. 6 months later I was diagnosed with late stage abnormalities in my cervix. This would lead to 4 1/2 years of increasing bad health and surgery after surgery which led eventually to my hysterectomy to remove early stage cervical cancer. While I’ve been very fortunate in early diagnosis and having surgery as an option. It has still turned my world upside down. Distorted my perceptions of who I am; as a women and wife and my role and purpose in life now not being able to have children at all.

My art and poetry have become important to me in a therapeutic way as well as a path of purpose in life.

During most of this time mania sustained me and is what I clung to in my final decent back into deep depression.

The image above ‘Eternal Promise’ and its poem is a reflection of what mania is for me. Or what it feels like.

When I’m in a manic state I have energy in plenty. I don’t need much sleep. The world is my oyster and everything seems within reach. I’m full of plans and ideas. Sometimes I’m just full of it. 😀  I walk with confidence almost as if I own the world. There is a certain type of arrogance that goes with mania. I am busy, I have things to do, get out of my way! The world and everyone in it seems to move far too slowly for me. I can justify my impatience, my annoyance with people and the world. I can also justify why I don’t need much sleep why I am an exception to good sense.

I keep a handle on it by adhering to a very strict routine. Things happen at certain times. Not before or after. It allows me a constant self-regulation. If something hasn’t happened I can ask why. Was it because I had visitors, a long phone call? An unexpected conversation or because I couldn’t be bothered? Why couldn’t I be bothered?

It’s not fool-proof. I also need Jamie to let me know when I go off track. To take a deep breath because I’m rattling on a million miles an hour at high volume with arms waving. Even in my enthusiasm I can slip.

Perception is funny that way. You normalise things so quickly that you don’t notice the subtle shift that sees you acting all rabid and then justifying it because it’s important. IT IS! 😀

So I have my checks and balances. I need to know as much as possible in advance, what I’ll be doing, otherwise I just fall off the wagon. I need the constant self assessment.

There are things though that can throw me. People turning up unexpected, things happening without warning. Major surgery.

The mania that sustained me through all the headache of my hysterectomy collapsed with surgery, hospital and pain killers. It took two weeks but because I was numbed from pain killers and grounded to watching t.v. and sleeping I didn’t notice the subtle changes taking place in my mind. My routine hadn’t just changed. It didn’t have  routine at all!  Once I no longer need pain-killers it all hit me with a bang and whole lot of tears.

Mania though is a tricky state of being because it isn’t all bad. My productivity and creativity is at a high. I get a lot  done and balance life very well. Mania is a fine balance. Just enough of the good, but not too much. 🙂 It’s a good place and that’s half the difficulty.  Not letting yourself float away with the clouds. It feels almost too good, addictive even. That’s where I slip into very bad habits.

But until next week I’m happy to re-embrace the joy of every good thing and sit awhile with stars and butterflies. 🙂

If you’ve made it to the end of this. Thank you for reading.

Tikarma. xxxx

Part One: Feeling

Hi Everyone,
This weeks blog is…well it’s me. 🙂 True to form there’s a lovely long impression after the poem. As always it’s optional. What matters is that you get something out of being here.

With that onwards and my best wishes to all for a lovely week ahead.
Tikarma.
xxxx

Ace Of Swords

Part One: Feelings

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Black and still

Consciousness fades with each hour.

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Note books forsaken in their heaps and their mounds

Pens are retracted

Pencils left un-sharpened

As darkness takes hold of the mind

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Eyes scream at the day light

Ears deafened by the softest sound

The body coiled in defensive poses

Vulnerable and sacrified.

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Tears fall

For an end to it all.

The reign of anxiety and fears…

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…Knowing

I am not enough

To make life worth the effort.

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And too many words echo and shout…

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…I think too much

Talk too much

Ultimately just fuck it up.

Try too hard to make right on wrongs that have no leanings,

They are just what they are

Part of life’s wheel turning.

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The tongue refuse to speak

The mouth is too pained to moved an inch

The mind unable to explain the pain,

Consciousness strains so hard to think.

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As daylight spills through the clouds…

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…I am weak, no courage left in me

I only crave sleep.

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Tears

To make it right while wondering why I always come out wrong

Like good intentions come unstrung

And strewn across the floor.

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I am left knowing there is no out.

Yet a door exists somewhere I know

Where there’s the answer to another me.

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20 cups of coffee

Still 3 hours ’till 5

I have moved from percolator to table

For today that’s my exercise.

Just one more cup,

Then I’ll get up…

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…But pages remain empty

Paint is left to crack

As my chest burns its agony

Leaving me sprawled upon my back.

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Until nightfall comes round again

Then maybe I can make amends?

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Footfalls across a 2:30am kitchen floor

Now the mind awakes

Sitting in the  chill

To ease self destructions addictive pull.

The mind alights on the root of my problem…

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Having clung so tightly for reality’s sake

I pushed out wonder

Scared away the child’s escape…

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© 2013 Tikarma Vodicka

 

Poetical Impressions, Where I’m at through ‘Step One: Feeling’. Monday January 7th 2013.

Whew! That was not easy to do. I have the inclination to be Miss Sunshine. I’m fine!  🙂 And I am…now…I am okay. But for a while I wasn’t and this is where I’m at. Looking back, with clarity and a clear objective view at what the last 4 months have meant to me. Ultimately, for me.

There are many kinds of depression. Too many to list. All of us at some point experience a level of depression. Whether in the form of loss or grief or the more deeper painful levels that seem to defying explanation. Your life is fine, why so down?

The depression I experienced was not the black dog hounding me, but the beast I came to call Leviathan who chains you to the ground.

Despite my efforts I reached a point where I could no longer think. The light was painful, my body hurt and every noise was a painful screeching in my ears.

It’s a horrid place to be. It is the space of raw despair, which leaves you wondering why you’re alive. Most of the time you just are. Half comatose and un-thinking.

I have lived many years now in a manic-depressive state. The depression was a creative space though. I have written some lovely (I think) poems, bright and hopeful in that state and I have painted with a determination to learn, grow and share.

This depression I’ve not experienced since I was a teenager. It was not exactly the same thank-goodness. I’d like to think that’s because I have grown, matured and no matter how many circles I run in, they are never truly identical. Life changes and you along with it.

So I pushed through it as best I could in the hope that if I did I would come out better, stronger, happier…blah! It broke me.

My mind to which I am inextricable linked is far more powerful than me, myself and I.

Normally this type of depression would see me hospitalised. My faith it seems still is stronger than even my mind. So un-like in the past, while I at times dwelt upon it I did not try to take my life or add to the gallery of scars that mark my body.

It is a massive improvement.

I probably should have spoken to some-one but the mental services where I live are…welll…they are there in spirit. A GP is NOT qualified to know what I need in medication or give any kind of therapy.

The thought of long trips to the city and expensive psychiatric visits I can’t actually afford just increased my despair. I would find my way out, my way, and I have.

So The last few months have not been joyful. How I managed to even remember it was Christmas and get anything to anyone was a minor miracle but I did it.

While I am not inclined to the confessional booth and I have no intention to share nitty-gritty details, I am aware I cannot stay silent completely about the last four months.

I cannot re-emerge all la-de-dah with inspired intentions of hope and joyful creative bliss as if nothing has happened. Because something has happened and I am very changed for it.

I don’t know yet who I am completely in my new landscape. I’m still drawing my map and planning my route. I’m still processing what I’ve experienced, all that has been said and how I will choose to re-form that into who I want to be.

In no way have I done the right thing. Depression is serious and it does kill. It has nearly killed me in the past. My journey the last 3 months has been a fool’s path and I’m just very lucky very lucky. Your first course of action should always be a doctor.

…Says the hypocrite…

But…quite seriously, when you find yourself swimming alone in an ocean of despair the greater likely- hood is you’ll drown if you try to make it to shore yourself. You need help.   I have had many years of help and advice, I also have a partner who is a rock of support and I know myself well. It makes me more prone to being idiotic because even with all I know I was still out for the count and useless.

My point is one should not let themselves get that far to begin with.

*end lecture*

So The next few blogs will be centred on the last 4 months. I think I owe it to some to explain how I managed to get back to being okay and why I wasn’t okay. I feel too that it needs to be said. A bit more honesty and little less Miss Sunshine. 😀 Also I don’t have the resources to get the help I need. I don’t have the money or the services. I know I can’t be alone in that. So at best it is consolation to others they are not alone, there is hope and if you’re able to, to get help or support. *cheesy grin*

It is idiotic to act like no-one is reading. You are. So it needs to be said this is not for attention or to loudly cry “”Ohhh poor me!!” But to hopefully, responsibly; plot a course through poetry and my thoughts, of circumstance, response, action and growth for learning to be a whole individual.

The first step is feeling. Venting if you will, so it’s all on table as it were to sort through.

…Because more importantly than readers, subscribers (I do appreciate you all, hence my long-winded explanation) and blogs…For myself.

I need to leave sign posts of where I’ve been so that as I continue to travel the maze of life, should I find myself accidentally turned around I will know where to go, what to do and give myself the strength in hope to make it back on track again.

There will be arty -farty, just for fun things in-between. 🙂 I have started an art journal on Twitter. If you would like to follow along you can click on the link below. 🙂

Tikarma on Twitter

At the moment I’ve just been getting used to Twitter but in the next few days you can almost literally (but not in real-time)  sit with me as I paint or draw.  I’m starting back slowly, in a way that works for me. What matters is that I’m moving, thinking, creating and beginning to live again. 😀

If you’ve made it to the end, thank you.

My best wishes to you all for a blessed week to come.

Tikarma

xxxx

 

Illustration not used with permission but “borrowed” with best intentions. 🙂

‘Ace of Swords’ by Tricia Newell for The Mythic Tarot created by Juilet Sharman-Burke and Liz Greene

Hope

Hi Everyone,
I’m back! This is re-post but if you choose to read the optional impression after this poem you’ll discover why.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!  to you all!  May it be filled with much hope and promise. 🙂

Tikarma.
xxxx

Hope

Hope

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Resting upon a waxing moon,

Flowing elusive between the banks of clouds.

Adding a glimmer to the morning sun.

Hope.

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It arrives with dreams and her sisters

Faith and desire.

Persevering through droughts and storms.

Standing tall through life’s adversities.

It is the last ounce of strength,

The decision in dark nights to wait it out

Until dawn’s light.

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Hope,

For the dream to see daylight.

To see a loved one again.

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Hope,

To see a brighter tomorrow.

Hope,

That it’s true…

…Nothing lasts,

All things eventually pass.

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A new dawn with another chance

In a time not yet spoken for.

Hope,

For a second chance to achieve ambitions

Realise dreams.

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In a past

Resolutions were spoken, written,

Left unsaid in superstition.

Some came with the air of jest

And some with the sarcasm of too many

Resolutions past, just to be broken.

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A sparkle in the corner of the eye…

…Hope,

A little star.

…Hope,

A bright star.

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Lessons learned.

If you’re to keep promises.

Honour the one most you make to yourself.

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In mornings wake of ambers

Fading hues of indigo,

Faith rests a pearl of wisdom

Upon a prayerful palm

A laurel wreath of desire upon

A wanting crown.

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Time relaxes its bonds long enough

For wisdom to settle in.

Hope needs a light,

A flame burning bright,

To ensure faith is not consumed by the black night.

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Hope needs foundations on which to rest,

Lest dreams take flight in a wind.

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Hope needs direction,

A map to guide,

So ambition won’t find itself lost in the cycles of life.

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Hope needs a focus,

A finishing line.

Otherwise desire in its efforts to attain

Will just keep on running.

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© 2012 Tikarma Vodicka

 

Poetical Impressions. News Years. Hope. January 1st 2013

I wrote this poem last year for New Years. In my corner of the world, the clocked has ticked over to mark a new calender year. Happy New Year!

When I wrote this I was full of optimism. Sadly my year didn’t quite go the way I had hoped and while there was much good news, there was also a lot of turbulence and troubles which saw me needing to abandon my blog and on-line activities and get myself sorted.

So I’m back. Fully recovered from my hysterectomy, mentally still a little fragile but…take two holding a flame of hope that this year will be my year! 🙂

Thank you to everyone who has subscribed to this blog and a BIG Thank you! 🙂 to Thomas Davis, Jamie McPherson, Diana, Belfast David and Christine (Journey Into Poetry) for all your wonderful comments throughout the year and sharing with me.

Thank you also to those (You know who you are) who kept in touch with me and offered much support and good wishes for me during my surgery and absence. Your words, news and support has been deeply appreciated.

I’m looking forward to a new year of blogging and reading, sharing and connecting with you all.

May your New Year be one that is one full of hope, many creative joys and adventures and much success.

Tikarma

xxxx

 

 

Crucible

Crucible

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Sunrise bleeding,

Scarlet watered skies.

Raw emotion screams

Into a speechless morning.

Feelings collide as heavy rain

Pooling into the dam of inertia before overflowing.

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A waterfall.

Tears

Manifest in energetic release

Slicing a rivulet through ancient volcanic detritus.

The heart

Yields unresisting.

Vandalised.

The once verdant pasture of the mind flooded.

A million emotions

Raw.

A hundred thousand thoughts jostling in distraction.

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Sunset coagulates

In clouds of russet and copper stains.

Colouring creation with dusky cinnabar.

Rage.

 It burns, spits with anger

 To be extinguished

As healing descends,

Ending a reign of reds that has haunted me from birth. 

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My Inspiration

I look up to you as the eternal begins its heavenly monologue,

And I need to know.

As your solace transcends my awkward repose

If I can still be worthy kneeling at your feet

To fill my lusting cup of expressionism with the seeds of your polymathic discourses?

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My inspiration.

When I am stripped of vital components

To receive your instruction,

Will I still understand your ruminations in the white noise of my black matter?

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Red moon rises

Bleeding my inspiration for one last cycle

Before my cradle of creation is thrown on sterilising fires.

Its veil of bleeding unable to cover me this time

Held back by the abyss of dark night.

My pen exchanged

Red for black.

 My eye of creation now to be a void

And the legacy of reds of mircocosmic traumas bleeding,

 A post script of memory that shall hurt me no more.

.

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© 2012 Tikarma Vodicka

Joy

Joy

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There is a moment.

Of its own space.

Out of time.

In that moment,

I took in the sunlight.

Streamers scattered over the bedclothes.

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Celebration.

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 There is a moment.

Where all else is forgotten.

No future or past.

In it I held eternity in my hands.

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There is a moment.

Where the senses are focused.

Meditating on the miracle of creation.

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Jubilation.

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In that moment.

Adoration at the innocence,

Marvelling at the beauty of perfection,

Held within life that is so small.

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There is a moment.

Where the world stops.

Where there is no room for anything other than…

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…Joy.

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Dedicated to the Memory

of Alexander Owen McPherson

Stillborn June 17th 2007

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Poem ‘Joy’ © 2008 Tikarma Vodicka

Painting ‘Joy’ © 2008 Tikarma Vodicka. All rights reserved

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