Here is my contribution to this wonderful blog hop hosted by Denise and Yolanda who do wonderful things for the WEP community, thank you both for all your hard work.
The theme this month, as you can see, is Peace and Love, it is also Poetry month and also in the month of April runs another fantastic blog hop of the A-Z challenge. So Peace and Love fits in with poetry and with the P post for the date of 19th April for those who have taken on the A-Z challenge.
I have a poem followed by a short flash fiction.
GLASTONBURY FESTIVAL
Born too late to be a
hippy
Incense sticks of
Patchouli
The smell of musk
From dawn to dusk
Fringes and bells
Long skirts a
tripping hell
The mantra of peace
and love
A symbol of a pair of
doves
Free spirited
non-conforming
Tall tales and story
telling
Still needed to earn
a crust
Paying rent was a
must
Never mind finding
food
For me not the
starving in the world
A chance in a
lifetime of a trip
An adventure can’t be
missed
Three days in a field
of grass
A flimsy tent pitched
in a morass
Of people, unwashed,
unclean
But proud to be seen
PEACE AND LOVE
They said the words
peace and love
Far out man, out of
sight, white dove
Music played fierce
and loud
Rocking out over the
crowds
They smoked the peace
pipe
Looking like the
stereo type
Unwashed, long haired
hippies
Bell bottom jeans
covered idiosyncrasies
PEACE AND LOVE
The sights and
sounds, smells
Hell and jingling
bells
She wanted to go home
Where she belonged
She couldn’t pretend
anymore
She didn’t want to
score
It wasn’t her scene
She wanted to be
clean
*************
PEACE AND LOVE
Several decades later
a dim and distant memory
Growing hazier as
life crowds her story
The elusive peace and
love
Striving for the two
white doves
Letting go, giving
in, standing strong
So much that went
wrong
Everyone makes
mistakes
It is life’s outtakes
Learn and move
forward
Chin up, don’t be a
coward
***********
PEACE AND LOVE
Some people find
peace and love from spirituality
Some find peace and
love from Christianity
Or other forms of
worship and beliefs
They bring comfort
and relief
A creed, a tenet to
live your life by
Sometimes you stray
The path meanders
The lines blur
You become an actor
Scrabbling for an
anchor
Holding back the pain
of the past
Looking for forgiveness
at last
You take a wrong turn
You should have
learned
To slow down and
consider
The pros and cons
before you answer
Before you jumped or
leapt
Maybe you should have
sidestepped
Not backwards but
sideward
Before moving pieces
on the chessboard
**********
PEACE AND LOVE
The wind blows through the trees as she steps on the
cushioned carpet of bluebells, her hair whips around her face, sticking to her
lips with their protective covering of lip salve on them. The breeze lessens as she walks in to the lee
of the copse. The air hangs and hovers,
a feeling of peace envelopes her, stilling her mind, calming her heart. She becomes one with the earth, grounding
herself in to the soil. The smells of
the wood, the iron musky odour of moist undergrowth assails her nostrils. She breathes
even deeper, ingesting the power of the ancient world.
She touches the gnarled bark of the closest tree. Her palm feels the roughness of the wood, she
watches a battle of man against beast, spears are flung; they find their mark grievously
wounding the animal. A horde of men
dismember the flesh, inner organs a delicacy before they remove the carcass to
their womenfolk. The meat will feed the
tribe for many days.
She places her other hand round the side of the tree,
pressing her body against the girth of the tree, through her outer garments she
becomes aware of another scene, this time the birth of a young child and her
heart is filled with joy and love. It is
a precious boy, long awaited to take his rightful place, in due course, as
leader of the clan.
She presses her cheek against the bark, it scratches her,
marking her skin. She pulls back,
recoiling at the sudden shock of the pain.
Where did the peace go?
Stepping back she looks around her. There.
Movement at the edge of the wood.
The shrill notes of a mobile phone disturbs the air, discordant,
dissonance sounds, a baritone voice answers the insistent instrument.
‘I’ve found her. Yes, I’ll bring her back to the car, don’t
worry, she’ll be fine.’
Michael steps in to the line of her vision, he holds out his
hand, encouraging her with a smile to come forward in to his embrace.
Jane shakes her head. ‘I’m not ready,’ she whispers, ‘I need more time.’
Michael pulls her gently away, he strokes her arms, strokes
her hair, pushes strands behind her ears, kisses her forehead. ‘I’ll
stay with you. You know I love you so
much my darling. I’ll always love you
but you know we need to get back. The
doctor is waiting for you.’
Jane nods in acknowledgement.
They think she needs help. They
think she is going mad, maybe she is but she knows what she feels is true. She does see things. She does feel things. Michael thinks all he has to do is to love
her more each day and she will get better.
She knows his love will help her to find peace, she knows she
will love him until the end of her days.
Another vision fills her mind. It is too abstract to make any sense of. She starts to tell Michael she needs to go
back to the tree. He is firm in his hold
as he leads her to the car park. He
seats her gently and straps her in.
Jane feels as though the seat belt is strangling her, she pulls the
webbed strap becoming more and more agitated.
She wants to go back.
She wants to feel calm. She want
to feel peaceful. She wants to feel love
surrounding her.
The doctor greets them both at the entrance to the home. He welcomes Jane with his kindly
demeanour. He knows how hard this is for
her and for Michael. A nurse settles her
in her room as Jane curls up in to the foetal position on her bed.
Michael’s tears flow as he watches his wife
succumb to the drugs the medical profession deem necessary to bring her back to
an ordinary life.
