lioness poetry
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Petrichor

12/14/2020

1 Comment

 
Picture
The smell of rain
rocks and earth
releasing wet fragrance into the air
I breathe it in
Lung deep
and wonder
if someone could bottle this perfume

Permission now
in the wet
to be quiet
reflective and softer

I like these days
more human this slowness
I turn pages of a book 
feeling paper and ink once more
delicious stretching and
soft blankets

Secretly excited 
as the river bursts her banks
brown and wild
at the end of the garden
I walk out in the rain
letting it dance on my skin

My bare feet squelch
through the tropical sodden grass
exploring life between toes

How Mother Gaia is reforming the landscape
her way
claiming it back 
Washing away the mad rushing
Bringing respectful pace 
1 Comment

Safe Place

12/12/2020

1 Comment

 
Picture
By Veronica Farmer

Kitten soft
this place 
of imagining
deep within

I go here
when the world is hard
or loud
My safe place

I curl within 
Breathe deep
Come home 
in the musty depths
of my imagined cocoon

Breathe
Breathe...
and        Breathe
Laboured breaths 
Lung deep
Soul deep

And then..
I am once again ready

To face the world
Lift my chin
and meet
It's hullaballoo
and chaos

I put the sword back in my hand
and continue on
Knowing the light is building
Just as the fire 
​rages


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Sun food.. by Veronica Farmer

9/24/2017

0 Comments

 
Picture
And so it seems
She was here
All along

Waiting for me
to come back for her...
As She hid
sniffing and silenced
her small fingers circling the dust
​beneath her

Arms wrapped around grazed knees
Singing to herself
Quietly so not to be heard
Under the table
Her walls a dirty tablecloth
Impeccably embroidered

The child me
Hot wet face and ripped nails
Hair shorn
Now finally in my arms

Guided by an ancient Lion
     in a young man's skin
His hand
Pouring honest heat
profound in gentleness
over my sternum
between my scarred breasts

He tells me
"Turn your face to hers"

The weight of his hand
Holds me sure
No wriggling away
From seeing this neglected imp

And so I murmur
And find
there is a ferocious love for her
Gathering sound

Her small white fingers cling
White knuckled grip
I hold her thin body tightly to me
Her knees press bony against my hip
making it hard to walk
But,
 I won't let her go
Not ever again

I look around
to see that now that we have found each other
this child and I
We are imprisoned
Great grey walls surrounding us
Cold dark and moist Celtic stone 
Where to find the key and get us out of here?
How do we leave
     this prison of icons and eons and confusion?

I look down to see
With a rueful smile
The key was there
All the time
Nestled rusting
And weighty In my palm

I walk down a dark corridor
Past shadowy cages of rooms
        where the angry and aloof relatives and lovers pace
Their hidden desires and starved creativity
Rattle the bars
They Mutter
And punch at the stone
Breathing hard
forehead to wall
Bleeding their fists

Bringing the child tighter on my hip
Her eyes wide,
I cannot stay with their company any longer

I have no more healing salve
To offer
Or protection to give 

I must walk on now...
I have sat with them
wincing at their cries
for too many centuries

One sure breath
A push
And we are birthed through creaking heavy wooden doors together
Into the sunlight

'Love yourself' my guide says...
His wide fingers calming the sobs of relief
that won't contain

His brown eyes search mine for truth now
They will not permit avoidance
on this journey
He will not quit

He says
"Love yourself"
A question rather than a trite post
on a social media heart filled feed
​
These words tighten my jaw

vex my skin
And then...
Begin to grow on me
As I see this love is for the child
      and the woman - One
Without this love
they starve

A new warmth
a wave of breath opens the binds around my chest
as the Little one hears
That she is beautiful
For the first time

Ribs wide
Tears wash
The familiar throb in my chest
The swallowed catch in my throat
Released
Finally

To be held thus
This kindly
by this sudden truest healing
There are no words
For that kind of loving friendship
that has no order of time or space

After he is gone
It's just us left
The child and I
​
We half smile at the sunset
​No longer afraid
To be alone
​To love in truth
And to begin a new life...

Copyright Veronica Farmer 2017
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Stillness

12/4/2016

1 Comment

 
Picture
You opened wide
the ancient doorway
with a Mona Lisa smile
and a lift of your eyebrows

One breath in
           Ahhhh
                And one out
                               Haaaa
a wash of peace
true Home
​
I hear your thoughts
Musing warmth
Soothing somehow...
Ancient
Playful
Yet careful at the edges...
​
You
The keeper At The Doorway
the calm Centre
who Sits
and observes
Quarks and string reaching
exploring
The drumbeat between bodies

My third eye Thrums
                            Aches
                                  Opens
I smile
in this Delicious felt acceptance
Nothing to want
Crave
Or need

All is delicious
oil dripping good
warm between fingers
from olives
salty and bitter
lifted
between lips

All is play
opening within
a wiser self

Head-back Laughter
at the serious dance of life
​free of the Chase

As I Sit...
in these gardens
fragile colour opens
delights
past words
Into the multiplicity of nature's sweet grace

Dragonflies hover
a flash of
gossamer wings
Tiny helicopters
Bugs sing
Life explodes

One breath in...
         opens my eyes
                  Leaves unfurl
                           bathing In the breeze of light
One breath out...
              fragrance lifts from flowers
                        as the water murmurs
                   the breeze grazes my skin
​
You remember
Don't you?
As I do..
When the One
Became more
Exploding energy
the CRASH!

But lightly Now
​Lightly

As much as I love
the explosion
it is time for patience
to dwell
in the ancient stillness before

This sweet And ancient dance
Will play Softly
In the no-time

​Today
This moment
Right now is gorgeous...
Picture
Picture
1 Comment

Three gifts... a poem by Veronica Farmer

10/11/2016

1 Comment

 
Picture
What is it about us humans
​that we grab
monkey bar hands
from family
to partner
to children
to lover
white knuckles tight
from one rung
to the next...

Making up stories
of who we are
​and how they must be
from where our hands cling fast

​What of letting the hands fall
connecting lighter
Throwing back the head
Eyes closed and warmed by the sun
Standing on our own two feet
toes squeezing warm earth
being okay with that...

What of trusting the warm breath
in our own body and heart
an end to safety seeking 
of putting that burden on another
finding fulfillment in what you give
​instead...

Standing alone
breathing it in
allows the softest breeze of a smile
​to be felt on the skin
​the chance to reflect

The body grows up
​stops hungering...
choosing a listening walk beside others
a shoulder to shoulder playful nudge
rather than grabbing

What if we knew from young
​that everyone 
who came across your path
had 3 gifts to offer you
and you to them

And if you were patient
and quiet enough
you would see them

These treasures ready
to be laid down
some just to show you what you are not
some what you are...

but only if you give the gifts space
in which to show themselves
​unwrap
​slowly...

I wonder how it would be
if we all began to love eachother
this quietly...

Copyright 2016 The Lioness Project
www.tlppoetry.com
A poem by Veronica Farmer
​To see more of Veronica's work visit www.madebeautifulbyscars.com
​
1 Comment

Healing the In... (a poem by Veronica Farmer) 

9/26/2016

4 Comments

 
Picture
The black dog of old
can land
when it gets too quiet
in those gaps
between creative runs

The secret desire
of the empath
our drug
is healing the three legged dog

We are outcome dependant
uncomfortable
In transformation
that is too slow

When the potential
does not express fast enough for our liking
It can gnaw and ache in the chest

The call from within
requests time
a slow gentle unveiling
a sense of humour
only in silence heard

This itches the mind
the carbon inside
asks for stillness to become diamond
but that work
is often too raw
honest 
​and we 
keep ourselves busy
escaping into drama
familiar pain of others
small things

Many of us Earth healers
The Warrior tribe
Are discomforted In the space between breath
The ache of new adventure just out of reach
plies with open arms

We prefer to charge
Roaring
The hilt of cold steel
A familiar weight in the palm
Blood rushing good
Smashing armour away

To see ignition in a grey soul
The fizz-zap
As the pilot light comes on
Releases the hunger
Satiates our reason for life

It warms, soothes the belly
Dances fire in our eyes
Turns us on like nothing else
in those we touch

That warm heart rush of a task ticked
is followed most often by stillness
An opportunity to take the healing inside

This observant mirror can make us lose our bearings
Scramble for a finger hold, foothold
For breath in an inky float tank of space

To breathe the gift
refuel
trust self
requires a meandering walk 
within the long quiet corridor
between the rooms of our own heart
the hidden fear waits
to be accepted
and breathed into transmutation
 
Our value
is not only in catching
The alone ones 
But in the in-between
Opening our arms to our own lonely self
Loving him
Loving her
Wrapping and rocking the depths
Into acceptance

Grace allows fresh blood in our veins
Death of the sure
the known 
As the old oilskin layers of coats fall away
Removes skin from bone
Readies us for the next adventure

Allowing a Mona Lisa smile
at our own seriousness
eases the discomfort
as friends fall away
lovers too
​
It happens

This listening place between the inhales
Is not to be avoided
There is much healing to be offered
In the place where obsidian and apnea live
​
As much love required in the heart of self
As in the Outworld

A poem by Veronica Farmer
All Rights Reserved

Also see www.madebeautifulbyscars.com  to read real raw stories that heal 
4 Comments

Just not that hard..

7/11/2016

1 Comment

 
Picture
So it seems
I have been doing this breathing thing
all wrong

All the pranayama
and insightful breaths
the deeper wondering
if I can do it
Right

Have led me back here

To the sweet
and playful understanding
that each breath
every single one
is as individual 
and unique
and allowed
as a wave

No effort required
No doing
No Right way
or wrong way

The more I watch
the more I see

How seriousness
is my enemy to peace
and allowing myself
to watch life
smile with it
breathe 
is 
Home
1 Comment

Simplicity

5/25/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
This journey teaches...

It's profound - the learning
The sweetness uncovered
When all the noisy fear and words
drop away 
And we see in the stillness
What makes someone beautiful

None of us ever know
how long
we will journey here

There's no fear in that
Not really

The worst fear when understood
leaves you free to live

It's always how we journey
Cruelly or kindly
That makes the difference

Love or noise
I like the first one
It's more fun

Fun feels right to me...

All rights reserved Veronica Farmer 2016
Take a look at www.madebeautifulbyscars.com
0 Comments

The Loft

5/25/2016

2 Comments

 
Picture
You have shown me
Your gentle heart
vulnerable
and raw

How can such strength
as You
be this quiet beauty
beneath?

Your eyes penetrate my soul...

The fragility of this sudden soul smash
means that every fingertip touch
every watched second
is held with deep sacredness
and sadness

the world has scarred you
left great loud
violent wounds
and yet
your pilot light
is there
waiting to be seen...
remembered

I can feel it
thrumming from you
this creative pulse
that can never grow old
or leave you

You think it is too late
that all you were is gone
No

I see you - you King
and you are here
in my arms

You just forgot 
who you were born to be

Once again
you kiss me goodbye
leave me
undone

I never know
when I watch the door 
click softly behind you

if it will be
the last time...

​I am made

softer
but stronger somehow
by your sudden presence in my life

We must cause no harm
in the wide world
outside our gentle universe 
of an artist's loft

In the soft tracing of my fingers
on the forest of your chest
in the non words
we speak
there is fragile Love

You help me Lover
comprehend
the deep rivers
of a Man's heart

All Rights reserved Veronica Farmer 2016
Check out www.madebeautifulbyscars.com  

2 Comments

The Kiss - a poem by Veronica Farmer

3/25/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
I'm sorry I kissed your girlfriend
It wasn't that sort of a kiss
It is just the kiss I give
to pretty much everyone
when I See them
Really see them

I am not mean
with my kisses

We are not here
long enough
not to grab someone's face
who is amazing
meet them eye to eye
and tell them just that!

I can't not tell them
I see you Woman/Man
and you are beautifully made
Not on the outside
but on the IN

I appreciate a raw soul
very much
hearing their scars
their truth

So
I won't stop
meeting my lips with others
Can't do it

But I am sorry
that it triggered a fierce fire in you
bothered your heart
activated your Lion self

My heart was not bothered 
by your angry words or glare
your statement of ownership
Although
I felt sad 
you could not see
the gentle intention

I was simply
honoring
someone you love
the way
I do...

All Rights Reserved by Veronica Farmer 2016
Also see www.madebeautifulbyscars.com

0 Comments
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    Lioness poet

    Veronica Farmer is an Amazon Best selling Author and Poet.  Her book  Made Beautiful by Scars- Transformation Stories is a book of raw human inspirational stories that help readers find their truth, their "fierce" behind life scars. When she is not writing, Veronica is a renowned intuitive Healer and therapist at her Healing clinic on the Gold Coast, Australia.  

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