Lindsey Hon Rubendall

Hiding

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Mon, 30 Sep 2024 15:05:38 +0000

Poetry Corner

Hiding

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

I am hiding.

Cocooning my inner vessel

as the arms of a bear mother

protect and secure her offspring,

shielding with a vengeance –

The small child in the dark corner,

trembling as the monster scratches hungrily

his long claws upon the wooden door

Darkness clambering at the innocence within

I am hiding.

Hiding from the song long dying to escape

Fiercely seeking to rise from my heart,

yet, constricts in the hollow of my throat

suffocating upon my collapsing lungs

And dies.

Dies upon the sharpest thought

that scathing sword of criticism

Decapitating each and every expression

not yet borne of absolute perfection

The Keeper, piling the artistic misfits

in the lowest, dankest cell devoid of light

Hiding.

For the fear.

Fear that my sacred core may be seen,

exposed upon the harshest light of day

Naked with no chance of explanation

The fear that the expression of my soul

does not capture the light of my being

But is seen like some dark perversion,

clamming to escape from the catacombs

of my misunderstood mind,

bursting forth like a burning Phoenix

upon the air to rain down as ash,

some toxic plague upon mankind.

Is that what I see?

Is that what I fear?

Hiding.

I am the judge and jury

The harshest sceptic, condemner

The executioner with the swiftest blade.

So that spirit song may never be sung

The notes never soar upon dancing strings

The brush left caked in dry, crumbling paint

The words suffocated, never uttered on the air

Condemned, they are and never will

be quite ripe for the picking,

expressions with the sweetest juice

that leave an insatiable hunger for more

And the soul goes on wanting.

Hiding.

Kill what may be to not suffer the fear

Drown the soul to never know that bright

celestial light of purest, heavenly love

streaming through each heart, begging

begging, to be borne into the creative air

The divine culmination of humanity

A purpose to evolve, create and love

Suppressed and discarded in the

long battle of shame and guilt

Hiding.

I am hiding.

With a fear that squanders the

magical expression of the soul

denying the divine sanctity of its being

From the dark corner of my cocoon

I bid myself the strength to rise

Slow, tender steps upon the floor

As the door looms ominously

that terrifying monster yet before,

Knowing such fear is manifested of me

I gather my courage and turn the handle

I will hide no more.

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner.

The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break free, itching the fingers to mould, the voice to sing, the words to pour into an elegant stew that feeds for eternity.

Fear eats at all that might be. It lingers under the robin’s nest, watching, waiting for the first chicks to stretch their wings and dare to fly, their expression about to borne onto the air only to be snatched by the harsh, chomping jaws of Fear. Feathers fall to the floor.

Too often have I sat on each and every one of my creations. Unfinished paintings, songs yet to be sung and poems upon poems collecting dust, deemed not yet right to be set free into the world. It is ironic then, that one of my favourite quotes is from Martha Graham preaching the exact opposite. That it is a duty to set your creations free without judgement. (See about page)

Ahhh. But judge I do. Yet again and again I gather my courage and set one foot beyond the door, pull it back in again, and out. An endless dance that moves neither forward nor backward. It only creates the illusion that it does.

But all creations desire to take flight and it is not for us, their creators, to squander, but those who might be touched by their expression. All art has purpose and all souls have a right and a purpose to express their being.

In words both meant for you and me – hide no more, but be that brave little chick and take flight. For one moment of being airborne is surely greater than never knowing what lies beyond the nest.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Abandoned

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Fri, 03 Nov 2023 12:15:43 +0000

Poetry Corner

Abandoned

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

If a heart could speak

what of loss could it say?

Would it be more gracious

than one’s mind in the fray?

Could it give understanding

for the insatiable madness

That last crumb of sense lost

coveting what can’t be had

Could it speak of the blow

that sharp dagger to the skin

Echoing thought below the surface

“I’m not wanted, not wanted”

Would it shed tears of mourning

for the scarring of the soul

Dragging steal across bone

carving in, “I’m not enough, not enough”

What comfort could it deliver

in those moments of the unknown?

Facing the darkened path ahead

yet too afraid to go it alone

Looking anxiously behind

still grasping for those fallen straws

But as sand sliding through finger tips

holding the past is a lost cause

Does it ever cry out in anger

at the injustice of fate?

Scream with all of its might

against what cannot be changed

Does it rage with the force

of a perfect storm upon the sea?

Emotions breaking in violent waves

every creature at its mercy

Does it as the sense of self

ever teeter on the edge?

A tipping seesaw of desperation

tottering reality and mania

Dangling between thoughts

drastically cutting all away

Bereft of all attachments

it never need feel again

Or does it flicker

with the light of the last flame?

Reminding the soul

of all the love lost and gained

The beauty of letting oneself

embrace a full and thriving heart

Of succumbing to that whimsy,

that magical elation of love’s spark

Or would it only softly whisper

its deepest secret in one’s ear?

Abandoned are solely those

who never let love out of fear

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

If the heart could speak…

A thought I love to visit time and time again in my musings.

Too often we hush our hearts, turning instead to our heads for guidance. We’re taught to believe that our hearts can’t be trusted, can’t be rational, are easily mislead – “blinded by love.” Yet, it has been my experience that it is quite the other way round.

I see the heart as the seat of the soul. It takes practice to really listen to this part of you, but once you can find that voice in all the noise, it will never steer you wrong.

So why do so many of us stay away from our heart space? In short, pain. To love is to experience the greatest magic on Earth, but also to expose yourself to the vast soul-crushing abyss of its absence.

This poem explores the thoughts and feelings that accompany the heartbreak of being unwillingly left behind. Abandonment comes in all shapes and sizes, and we have each experienced it in our own way. It can cause us to feel we are not good enough and make us fear ever opening our hearts to love again.

Even in pain, the heart whispers its wisdom. Be brave enough to open your ears to hear.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Celestial Song

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Thu, 28 Sep 2023 16:04:35 +0000

Poetry Corner

Celestial Song

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

What flows into song cannot be unsung

The motion of the world long moved, undone

A freeing of the heart, mind and soul

Capturing the beyond, learning to let go

To hold wisdom yet still not to know

for what greater cause the wind within does blow

A painful and treacherous path a heart must take

to understand severity for destiny’s sake

Courage the inward creed lest clouded with doubt it forsake

Escaping from the lungs, with echoed vibrations in its wake

Heaven discernible as the rising sun in an ethereal capture,

a trilling crescendo remarked of an angel’s rapture

Woven within a seraphic bird’s hymn, so clear

Let not her aria fall on intently deafened ears

A consummate yearning to escape within those notes

Carrying her away, beyond the universe, into the unknown

Reflected in the unrestrained flight of her heart’s soaring song,

flowing over the shockwaves of time to a far away place she belongs

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

What power is carried in a voice?

Is music not our linking chain to a powerful connection with something beyond? Something so vast words can barely scratch the surface of its meaning?

This poem is an expression of letting that heart song fly. Granting it the power to explode up from the lungs, through the vocal cords and soar out into the universe. Connecting with heart, mind and spirit. Knowing always that our existence is but a small drop in an infinite ocean. But in those notes, we find a place we can call home.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Beyond the Stars

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Thu, 28 Sep 2023 12:31:29 +0000

Poetry Corner

Beyond the Stars

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

All that we are bound into flesh and bone

Or an essence transversing the cosmos,

far beyond into the depths of the unknown

An echoed chamber of infinity’s beauty

within your eyes I behold

The throbbing rhythm of the universe,

a song of souls encompassed in the stars

Only a reflection of our beating hearts

A reminder of what we are

With your hand entwined in mine

Our stories rippled across space and time

A gravitational pull ordained by the hands of fate

Caught in the orbitational allure of one’s soulmate

At the foundation of all I have ever known,

crossing far beyond the bounds of sinew and bone

A call of two hearts, intertwining twin cores

My soul will always search every lifetime for yours

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

True love never dies.

Call me a hopeless romantic, but I believe that love is the most powerful force in the universe. It transcends all boundaries, makes superheroes out of the most unlikely people (and animals), and its absence can bring us to our knees.

Pure loving energy is an immensely healing, vividly shining power. Have you ever met someone that absolutely oozed the energy of love? Didn’t that person just seem to glow?

I think there is no better thing to strive for than love. It’s the soul’s fuel, the force of our inner growth, and the last thing we hold before we leave this plane of existence. Those who have lived a life full of love, giving unselfishly themselves and receiving it in turn, are the ones who pass on with the least regrets.

Throughout human history, there have been countless stories of a love so powerful it seemed to defy all else. That rare kind of love that seems to be written in the stars. Two souls so connected, so destined for one another, that lifetime after lifetime, they cannot rest until they are once again united as one. Soulmates.

We dream of such a love in songs, stories, art, movies, poetry – every outlet of human expression. There are more songs written about love than any other subject, because it is the one thing that moves us all.

But don’t just dream of love, live it. Let it shine in your life as if you’ve never known heartbreak.

May love always light your way.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Hope

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Thu, 22 Jun 2023 09:21:12 +0000

Poetry Corner

Hope

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

What is hope but the last long cry of determination?

What is hope but the singing dream of liberation?

The final stand, last remnant ghost of belief

harking the call within us all in the moment of greatest need

Our bolden stance of defiance in the face of an impending defeat

Hope is the culminating shimmer of light

rearing against the verging wall of twilight

Hope is a flower of inextinguishable beauty, delicate and sweet

rising high above a wasteland of thorns and jagged concrete

Hope is the spark igniting the wings of bravery

emerging out of the ash above the armaments of knavery

Hope holds all we will ever be

A testament to a core of deep belief

Where there is hope, there is life

Where there is hope, there is love

With hope there is always a chance to rise above

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

“Hope holds all we will ever be.”

I wrote this poem at the beginning of 2022 shortly after the outbreak of the war. Fear caught like fire within the hearts and minds of those living with me in Europe. Vulnerable, we stood in horror, our hearts aching for our not so distant neighbours falling under attack.

Yet, something was happening… something unfathomable on the back of the corona pandemic, years of fearing one another, fearing for ourselves and loved ones – and now with the threat of war, possibly even nuclear – there it was: HOPE. It was in the hearts and spirits of the Ukrainians fighting for their freedom, their homeland, embodied and bolstered by their leaders.

Hope is a tender thing. Rare and delicate as the most beautiful flower, yet with the strength to move mountains when the circumstances arise. The world is in an extremely difficult period right now, with so much fear and uncertainty about our future or even what tomorrow might bring.

I’ll be the first to admit: I often feel absolutely hopeless against this sheer wave of darkness and problems that don this Earth like a constant cloak of doom. I know that I am not alone when I question what meaning, what goodness is left for me to bring to this world when everything feels as if it just has no meaning.

Yet, even as I catch myself falling down that slippery slope into the abyss of hopelessness, my soul is still searching for that last sliver of light shinning like a beacon on the horizon. Yet is the prelude of hope. The swan song heralding the changing of the tides. As dark as the big picture might currently seem, as cruel and careless as people on this planet may seem – humanity is and will always be that last beacon of hope.

Keep your light shining. The culmination of each tiny beam brought together as one shines with the strength of a thousand suns.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Through the Eye of the Heart

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Wed, 07 Jun 2023 13:43:54 +0000

Poetry Corner

Through the Eye of the Heart

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

We are not all meant to be the same

Our differences the magical flavour to the flame

Enriching our ideas, minds and souls

Contrasting characters drawing us out to be bold

Bereft of this we would be amiss

A plainness mass in an unending abyss

of rigid and stagnant automatons

undistinguishable from the throng

Yet from this we so resolutely seek to depart

our distinctions rather wrenching us apart

Instead of finding in our hearts to hear

that which our neighbours hold so dear

We judge and condemn with no end

Besieged, our adverse views we must rigorously defend

Reasons, though different they may be

cloak only a core that desires to be free

If we look through our hearts and not with our eyes

each of us is a teacher, conflicts our lessons in disguise

Great wisdom though it may take

it is a far better path than that at stake

A world in which individuality is shamed and scorned

humanity’s tender kindness and acceptance deeply mourned

With compassion do open your ear

to what those on the opposite side ask you to hear

A call for protection, lest that which they love disappear

Not an other, not a fiend, but a person with a heart and a dream

Respect given is respect received, a parting of ways less aggrieved

As divergent as the stars above

extend a hand filled with love

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

“If we look through our hearts and not with our eyes…”

What profound insights would we have about those standing opposite us? The eyes can be deceived, but the heart, lit by love, cannot.

Individuality is a beautiful thing – yet, I feel like that is one of the first things we judge about one another. “We are not all meant to be the same,” nor can we be! Goodness, what a boring, uncreative place our planet would be!

Different cultures, ideas, ideals, inspirations, beliefs, you name it, truly make up that magical flavor! The great ideas come when those from the “opposite side” push your buttons and expand your mind. Without our polar opposites we would never grow and never be in balance.

We are all so very different, yet in our hearts so very much the same. I personally find that heartening and take from that this simple principle: No matter how far apart we may feel from one another, if we look to our hearts – that which binds us all, we can always find common ground.

We aren’t meant to agree, but we are meant to love. Always be looking for that heart on the inside. Even the hardest shell hides a gooey center.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Battle for the Throne

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Tue, 06 Jun 2023 14:21:21 +0000

Poetry Corner

Battle for the Throne

© Lindsey Hon Rubendall

There is a story rarely told

of a battle that was a terror to behold

The heavens clashed, banged and boomed

Each against the other, impending doom

Once a friend now a foe

The stars reflected the hate of the mortals below

The Lightbringer bore Leo away

striking out the light of day

As darkness settled across the sky

it was ambitious Scorpio to cry,

“Alas! A vacant throne!”

The remaining eleven gathered ‘round

First scratching their heads with a frown

The King of Beast ne’er to be seen

How in the heavens could this be?

The Twins in their cunning

were the first to see

finally the time had come

for clever minds to lead

Their conniving much enraged the Bull

but ‘twas the Ram who felt it was his turn to rule

“Twisted serpents ye all be!

There is none as glorious as me!”

The three of the sea conspired to be

the most powerful indeed

But the Goat would not bow out without a fight

much to deadly Scorpio’s delight

With a clash of horns against claws

the Maiden stood in horror watching it all

“Oh can’t you see what you do?

You all believe the other isn’t as good as you!”

Off she raced to the Justice of the Stars

Perhaps the Scales can indicate where they are

Tipped to the right? Or tipped to the left?

Good Libra will know what’s best

But the Waterbearer blocked her path

and as she cried out, he laughed

“The time for harmony is over!

The throne is mine to takeover!”

An arrow zipped through the air

just missing Aquarius by a hair

And which champion should Virgo behold?

But the Archer standing there so bold

“To the Scales we race my Lass,

harmony must be restored fast”

Libra tipped her scales back and forth

as Sagittarius cried out,

“Dear Libra, who is to rule henceforth?”

She replied, “A restore to the balance there must be.

It is the Lightbringer who holds he.

Purest of heart and wisest of mind,

there is no other to lead the Divine”

Off to her lair on the horizon they adjourned

and brave Sagittarius tried his turn,

“Oh Bringer of Light, Bringer of Love,

please restore to us now our Sun above!”

She cackled at the Archer’s plea

“He is mine now, take your leave”

“But chaos and darkness rule in his wake!

You must see that taking him was a mistake!”

The Maiden cried out, heart forlorn

for how it hurt to see her friends so torn

“Ah but you don’t see!

Finally there is no light in the sky brighter than me!

As for the King of Hearts, I disagree

For it is I who is the Goddess of Love you see.”

The Maiden sank to her knees,

it was just no good to plea

As a soft voice whispered the key,

“Look within, there a portal be

but only the purest of heart have the power to free”

Understanding what she must do

She looked deep inside to what she knew was true

Her heart glowed with a powerful light

The Archer stood in awe of the magical sight

With a flash the scene cleared

the King of Beasts having once more appeared

The Lightbringer shrieked with rage

“How dare you escape from your cage!”

Leo radiated with intense golden light

The Goddess of Love fell silent in her fright

His words were spoken with powerful calm,

a truth she knew all along

“My dear there is no need to challenge me,

we all have glory in the heavens, as was decreed”

His words boomed through the clouds

covering the battle as a shroud

“It is the duty of all of us to lead,

as the protectors of mortal man

we are tasked with this deed.

So listen close and take heed,

for all of our gifts there is a need.”

Battered and bruised, they each looked about

His words were true, to that they had no doubt

Bowing their heads as the King of Hearts appeared

Ashamed of what had brought them here

As Aries embraced each Twin in tow

and Scorpio turned to his dear friend Leo

It was no longer a matter of foe against foe

No matter how clever, strong or wise

it is the purest heart that makes a leader inside

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

A vision of an epic battle for the cosmos.

I have always been fascinated by the great mythological stories of old and the vastness of the heavens. Perhaps it was my constant looking up at the night sky and my endless romanticism that birthed life into this tale that otherwise came to me seemingly out of the blue.

Are not stories there to take us away to another place? To express the dwellings of the subconscious mind through metaphor?

Upon writing this tale, I felt I could have expanded this story much much more, but decided to limit it as it was the longest poem I had ever written at that point. I found myself thinking, how long is too long? Who wants to read this? Yet, I know in my creative mind there is so much more to be said for this story, so I see this as the shortened version, the first draft of a bigger tale yet to come.

The stage is set.

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

The Oracle

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Mon, 22 May 2023 15:56:00 +0000

Poetry Corner

The Oracle

Into the forest the path does go

winding, turning, over hill and trough

The secret whispered, echoing through the leaves

Softly she beckons, the call resounding in every seed

A pounding drum ringing in my ear

Up ahead into the meadow the path becomes clear

The doe, with her great omniscient eyes

leads me on in long, elegant strides

Winding along the clearest stream

the mist coating my vision like a dream

Radiating a vibrant glow

there’s more than meets the eye in the waters below

A touch of the water across my skin

giving light to all that lies within

Shedding away the darkest parts

illuminating only the purest heart

In the way ahead a bridge appears

beneath the great willow, grown from the oracle’s tears

Under her gaze the soul bares all

the secrets she whispers are those we seek most of all

The lady of the mist calls me to her

Her voice ringing with each softly spoken word:

“Fire burns across sea and sand

darkness engulfing even the greatest land

As the final hour draws near,

it is the fate of mankind that brings you here

If there is to be a way

that light once more shines upon the day,

man must see what he will not,

something he once knew but has long forgot

A force that beats in every living thing

from rock, to tree, to great winged things

No matter how great or small

a heart and soul beats within us all

No one kind is greater than the other

but each equally a brother, sister, mother

As war pounds with its beck and call

only love can save them all”

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

Within every journey upon the path of life, there is immense wisdom to be gained.

A journey can do many things, whether it is giving us insight to ourselves, shaping the way we see the world, or inspiring us to change course and voyage off on new paths. Journeys of any kind lead us to inner epiphanies that will seem as if they were so clearly there, right in front of our face, all along.

Yet, we don’t have to physically jet off to far away lands to feel as if we have journeyed far and wide. Diving into and exploring our inner world can be just as, if not more enriching for self-discovery – mind, body and soul.

We all have our own personal oracle, the inner voice of our higher selves. Our wisdom giver holding the right answers and guidance just for us – if we can only find the quiet to listen.

Whenever you feel lost in life, turn not only to those around you, but even more so to the depths of yourself. Therein will always lie all the answers you will ever need.

Fear not the road ahead, for every path, when true, leads to the heart.

The oracle in my story calls us to remember that we too are joined with all things on this Earth.

Through technology and the modern way of life, so many of us have become completely detached: Remembering not the origin of our souls nor recalling that, that which we destroy breathes precious life just as we do.

Life is precious, irreplaceable and it is fleeting. The decisions you make today shape your tomorrow, for you and the world. What legacy do you leave Mother Earth?

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to break

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Whisper of the Waves

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Fri, 17 Mar 2023 18:41:07 +0000

Poetry Corner

Whisper of the Waves

The wind rustling gently in the swaying palm trees

White sand sliding as she moves across the shore

She can hear the distant waves calling

Whispering her name, a beacon before

As the sun shimmers across the waters so blue

the pull in her heart is deep and true

The sea she sings a song only she can hear

Its sweet ringing like gold to her ear

While others feel lost under her vast, turbulent waves

it embraces her like a mother, cradling her babe to her chest

No matter how far the journey or how wide

she carries the song of the sea deep inside

A heart is never lost when it rings true,

a part of the soul that will always call back to you

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

That sound when you stand at the ocean.

The rush of the waves slapping on sand and rocks. A steady beat repeating, echoing, flowing and time seems to hold its breath and just stand still. It’s only you and the movement of the Earth. The incredible vastness of the universe expanding beyond your small being. Something so grand that we can only ever have a sense of, but no matter how hard we try, can never truly comprehend. But we feel it.

It’s a feeling, a voice that carries on the wind and the waves. Telling us we are part of something greater – if we but take a moment to listen.

Don't miss

the ambient spoken word version

Poetry Corner

Related Poems

Hiding

“I am the judge and jury. The harshest sceptic, condemner. The executioner with the swiftest blade…”

What creative does not know the tale? The squandering of talents crying to

Abandoned

“If the heart could speak…would it shed tears of mourning for the scarring of the soul? Dragging steal across bone, carving in “I’m not enough…”

Celestial Song

“What flows into song cannot be unsung, the motion of the world long moved undone…” Within each note is a chain to something far beyond ourselves, calling us home.

Frayed Lines

L. A. Hon Rubendall — Thu, 16 Mar 2023 15:21:31 +0000

Poetry Corner

Frayed Lines

For all that she heard

she could not utter a word

and with a snap her heart was broken

That one doesn’t fit

What the others portray doesn’t sit!

With no understanding

but hurt between we two

Fickle is the way

one enchants their own say

believing their view is the best to convey

Long laying lines

can fray overtime

if not with clear eyes we survey

But at the depths of it all

no matter how far we fall

into our own subjective sway

Deep down, the heart knows the true way

and words are just words we say

L. A. Hon Rubendall

About this poem

Utterances in the heat of verbal battle tear the fabric of the delicate relationships we weave.

That line crossed, going too far, that vengeful thought so secretly kept, bursting up your vocal cords and tearing like a bullet out of your throat – and there it is, the ugly thing said that you never meant to say. But it has been born into the physical realm, manifested into reality and wielded as a spear on the battlefield. You cannot go back.

This poem is about the aftermath, that moment when someone you hold dear says something so hurtful, something you always feared they thought, but it remained unspoken. Ignorable. Even the deepest of bonds can be cut. But how do you go on from there? Will it ever be the same again? Can you look beyond the hurt and know at the core, underneath the misunderstanding, needs for vengeance and pride – that there is still love?

The heart knows not pride, that is the misconception of the mind. The heart only knows love and has the power to overcome and heal all wounds.