Salvation – a poem by Lis Goodwin

I’ve said, time and time again,

that the knives you’ve sharpened

will one day stop hurting me,

and I shall live.

 

I am healing, and as my life now grows,

those knives of yours are less fearful

to me.

 

I no longer flinch when you use them:

your sharpened, wounding words.

I no longer blink.

 

Am I hardened? Am I well?

Have I developed a shell?

Or is this true strength?

 

Only God knows the work He has wrought in me.

Only God knows why He chose to save me from you.

Only God knows His plan

for me.

 

Lis Goodwin ©2016

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Getaway – a poem by Lis Goodwin

getaway

I came here to get away from you.

For a break from our stress:

us.

 

I came to admire this place,  and found

that I had walked into your

cold, cold heart;

 

that I had booked myself a place – a room –

inside your feelings for me:

inside you.

 

I shivered, and spun on my heel.

I knew I had to leave:

both this place, and you.

 

Lis Goodwin ©2016

 

To read more about the ice-hotel, click here: Link

Thanks for reading!

‘The Tree and the Pool’ – a poem by Brian Patten, read by Lis Goodwin

Well, I think I’m catching up with the major hiatus of the last couple of weeks (is it a month? Tsk!). I hope you enjoy this video, there are more to come, hopefully next week! Please share these – it really helps my business for people to hear how good English can, and should, sound.

Best wishes

Lis Goodwin – your voice coach

gloriousvoicecoaching.com

A Lady Who Thinks She Is Thirty – a poem by Ogden Nash

Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.

Miranda in Miranda’s sight
Is old and gray and dirty;
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.

Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.

Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.

Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What’s a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?

Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then–
How old is Spring, Miranda?

Ogden Nash

A lovely poem full of whimsy and joy – I hope you enjoyed it!

Best wishes

Lis Goodwin – your voice coach

www.gloriousvoicecoahcing.com